Luca leaps out, runs around the vehicle and opens the door.We all haul Hudson to Doc’s clinic as Pippa calls out vitals and wound info in a sharp stream.
Doc and her two nurses surround him instantly, and I feel his weight disappear from my arms.
The absence is brutal.
Pippa stumbles slightly as they carry him away and I catch her.
Neither of us speak. We just stand there for a breath too long, covered in blood that doesn’t belong to us, watching the team rush him inside.
He was staring into my eyes as he passed out—like he was trying to remember something in case he didn’t make it.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Pippa wraps her arms around me and holds me like I’m the one bleeding out.
I let her. I let her comfort me, because for the first time in a long time, I don’t have a plan.
Friday Morning, Day 23
The clinic smells like antiseptic and copper. It crawls into my lungs and stays there. Hudson’s form stretches across the narrow bed, his chest rising and falling in time with the machines. The bullet’s been removed. It missed all major organs or arteries. The doctor said that with rest he should be okay, but he hasn’t woken up.
I need him to wake up. If I think hard enough, stare long enough, I can will him back into himself.
Pippa and I have been posted on either side of his bed for hours. At first, we held his hands, spoke to him, talked to each other. Filling the silence felt like something solid to cling to.
Then we rotated showers as Eva, Luna, and Doc drifted in and out.
Jules and the team returned about an hour ago and reported everything had been handled. They cleaned up, checked on Hudson, then peeled off to rest.
Dawn is fast approaching. By morning, Malin’s death will make the rounds. Jules curated the details, ensuring the story ends with “died in his sleep.” Clean. Final.
The raw desperation from the van is gone. The version of me that let Pippa hold me in the hallway while Hudson was carted away, that man has been sealed away. I’ve been quiet too long. I know it. I can feel something grinding inside me. A different Enzo sits here now—the one people know. The one who took over after my parents were murdered. The one most men are smart enough not to cross.
“You should get some rest,” Pippa says softly. “You’ve been holding your breath since we got here. Hudson needs rest and so do you. I can stay with him.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be fine.”
She comes over to my chair.
I don’t look at her. Her hand lands on my shoulder and my body goes rigid. Not with anger, but with distance. A wall slams into place before I can stop it.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t you dare pull away from me right now.”
My eyes cut to hers. Dark. Flat. Everything is locked down tight. “This isn’t about you, Pippa.”
“Then what is it? Because five hours ago, you and I were both fighting to keep him alive. Together.” She squares her shoulders. “I care about him, too, Enzo. And now you’re shutting me out. Don’t pretend you’re not. You think I don’t notice you putting up walls?”
I turn back to Hudson. It’s safer to look at him. “I should’veseen it coming. Should’ve kept him safe. My head wasn’t where it needed to be.”
The truth sits heavily in my chest. I don’t need her to say it—I already know. I’ve made this mistake before.
“You think this is your fault?” she asks.
“It is.” The words scrape on the way out. “I let myself get distracted.” I pause, drag in a breath. “By you.”
She steps back. Stung. Her own walls fly back up; I can feel it.
“I justhadto follow you into that warehouse. None of us would be here if it weren’t for me.” My hand drags down my face, what remains of my control slipping. “And now look at him. Hudson is fighting for his life. Because of me.” The words land hard. Not because they’re cruel, but because they’re true. Just like when my broken engagement ended with the destruction of my family. I’m repeating history.
“This…us…” I shake my head. “It’s too complicated. I can’t risk him again.”
