“Mogliettina,” I murmur, taking her uninjured hand in mine. It’s cold, so cold. I press it to my lips, willing my warmth into her. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
Her eyelids don’t flutter. Her fingers don’t twitch in mine. She remains terrifyingly still.
“You ran from me,” I say, my voice breaking. “I know you thought I’d hurt you for killing him. But fuck… I could never hurt you.” I stroke her cheek with my free hand, careful to avoid the scrapes where her skin met pavement. “Do you hear me? I love you, Alina. I fucking love you.”
The words I should have said a thousand times before now hang in the air, witnessed only by strangers and my unconscious wife.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder. I tense, prepared to fight anyone who tries to separate us. When the ambulance screeches to a halt at the curb, two paramedics leap out, equipment in hand. They approach with practiced urgency, expressions professional and detached.
“Sir, we need you to step back,” the first one says, a stocky man with cropped hair.
“No.” The word is final, non-negotiable.
“Sir—”
“I’m her husband.” I don’t move an inch. “I’ll let you work, but I’m staying right here.”
The paramedics exchange glances before the second one, a woman with sharp eyes, nods. “Fine. Just don’t interfere.”
They work around me, their movements efficient and practiced. The woman stabilizes Alina’s neck with a brace whilethe man checks her vitals, attaching monitors and inserting an IV line into her arm.
“BP’s dropping,” the woman says. “Severe head trauma. Possible internal bleeding. We need to move her now.”
They slide a backboard beneath her with careful precision. I force myself to release her hand so they can secure her to the board. The moment they finish, I reclaim it, my fingers threading through hers.
“Hospital’s eight minutes out,” the man says, helping his partner lift the backboard.
“I’m coming with you,” I tell them as they load her into the ambulance.
The male paramedic shakes his head. “Family follows in their own vehicle. It’s policy.”
I step closer, looming over him, making sure he sees exactly who he’s dealing with. “Policy doesn’t apply to me,” I snarl. “She’s my wife, and I’m not leaving her side. Are we clear?”
Something in my expression must convince him, because he swallows hard and nods. “Just stay out of our way.”
As I climb into the ambulance, I spot Colin pushing through the dispersing crowd, his face grim. Our eyes meet, and without a word, he understands. He’ll follow us and handle whatever needs handling. I trust him to take care of everything else so I can focus solely on Alina.
The doors slam shut, and the ambulance takes off, sirens blaring. I wedge myself into a corner, holding Alina’s hand while the paramedics work around me. The small space fills with the beeping of monitors, the hiss of oxygen, the clipped medical terminology that means nothing and everything.
“Tachy at one-twenty.”
“Pressure’s still falling.”
“Get another line in.”
“Call ahead. We need trauma and neuro on standby.”
Blood seeps through the bandage they’ve pressed to her head. Her skin grows paler, if that’s even possible. Each minute stretches into an eternity as I watch them fight to keep her stable.
I should have protected her. Should never have let her out of my sight when Andrea was on the island. Should have told her from the start how I felt about my dad, about her, about everything.
Now she might die believing I wanted revenge for the man I’ve hated since childhood.
“Don’t you dare give up,” I whisper, squeezing her fingers. “Fight, Alina. Fight forus.”
The paramedic shoots me a sympathetic glance before returning to her work. I ignore her. There’s only Alina, only the rise and fall of her chest, only the electronic beep that confirms her heart still beats.
Andrea got what he deserved. I’d have killed him myself if she hadn’t done it first. The thought of him touching her, hurting her, threatening her life—my vision goes dark with rage. If he weren’t already dead, I’d make his end last for days, weeks, months. I’d take him apart piece by piece until nothing remained but a memory of pain.
