When the doors open I’m met by a sea of medical people in various coloured scrubs, but I recognise one immediately. I stand back as the paramedics pull the gurney out of the ambulance and watch as the throng of people converge around Enzo, all directed by a woman I owe my life to. Doc Em.
“Take him straight through. I want imaging and full panels, stat,” barks Dr Katerina Mancini, taking charge of the situation before running back to me and hugging me tight. “You can’t come in with him,” she whispers, and before I can protest, she’s waving to someone who walks up behind me and guides me inside as Doc Em runs in after the gurney.
Standing alone in the ambulance bay, I don’t have to look up to recognise Stefano’s silhouette in my peripheral visionwhen he walks up to stand at my side. I’m lost in my thoughts, or it could be my own personal hell. Hard to tell right now.
This morning Enzo was dead. I should be happy he’s alive, but the overwhelming feeling that coils in my stomach is that of sheer dread. I don’t think I can survive losing him again. I feel like I’m slipping back into the darkest place in my mind. Ready to hide away like before, so I can protect myself from the greatest form of torture Max has ever subjected me to.
Stefano flanks me and I bolster my resolve as we head into the hospital. The reception staff direct us to a family room to wait, and not long after, Sinclair, Nico, and Benny crash through the doors. Sinclair lifts me into his arms and sits on the woefully uncomfortable plastic chair, settling me in his lap while Nico and Benny sit on either side of me, all connected in the way we console each other.
We sit in silence. We wait. We breathe.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NICO
Waiting to hear an update on Enzo’s condition in this characterless room, painted in overly cheerful colours that assault my corneas, is a torment more unsettling than any theatrics I’ve ever used on someone I’m interrogating. If hell exists, this is mine. Made worse by having to witness the pain in the eyes of the people I love.
I thought I knew fear—that I understood it. I’ve inflicted enough pain on others to appreciate the emotion intimately, but when we thought Enzo was dead, it was the first time I’d been confronted with true, heartbreaking loss. It took me by surprise. Made me recognise how fragile everything is and how terrifying the thought of losing any one of them is.
I’d always assumed that I would fall apart if anything ever happened to Benedict, but I wasn’t prepared for how I felt when I woke in the med-room alone after the assault on Salvatore’s compound, praying for everyone to make it home safely. A part of me died when they returned without Enzo.
We couldn’t save him then. What if we can’t save him now? The fear sits heavy in my chest, suffocating my soul.
Glancing at my watch, I note it’s only been three minutes since I last checked the time, but a lot can happen in three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds can change everything. My heartbeat is steady, striking in my chest like a metronome. Not reflecting the pace of the thoughts rampaging through my mind, ones that feed my anxiety and dread.
The door clatters open with a loud bang, making us all jump and triggering every one of us—even Stefano—to stand and circle Aurora, hands hovering above concealed weapons, protecting her from any threat.
“For fuck’s sake, Katerina. You, of all people, know better than to barge into a room full of armed men like that,” Stefano chastises. Doc Em ignores not only his familiarity, but him entirely, crossing straight to Aurora and waving us out of the way.
“I’m not going to insult your intelligence by sugar-coating it, Aurora. It’s bad. He’s as stable as we can get him and we’re going to take him up to surgery now. He has extensive trauma to his abdomen. The lacerations to his spleen and liver are our primary concern, so we’re performing an exploratory laparotomy to get that under control. He has multiple broken bones that we’ll deal with later, but we need to stabilise the breaks to his arm and shoulder surgically. If he survives this surgery, it’ll be the first of many.”
Doc Em’s direct manner is exactly what we all need right now. There’s no need to question her on the details. She’ll do whatever it takes to save him. There’s a steady wave of heads nodding, a collective bestowing of consent. She turns and leaves and Stefano slips out after her.
I rub my hands down my face, groaning at how useless I feel. Aurora takes my hand in hers, lays her head against my chest, and hugs me. She reminds me I’m not useless as I return her embrace. I can be strong for her. I need her comfort right now as much as she needs mine, so I cling to her like my own personal security blanket.
All we can do now is wait.
It’s beenhours and we’ve had no update.
“What if we were too late? What if he doesn’t make it?” Aurora whispers, her words so quiet it’s as if she’s scared to say them in case they can manifest our worst nightmare into reality.
“There’s no way Enzo would survive this long just to give up on us now,” I reply, kissing her forehead. She bobs her head against my chest, mindlessly agreeing with me when I know from her almost robotic movement she didn’t register what I said. I shift her in my lap and cup her face, forcing her gaze to mine.
“Listen here and listen good. Enzo Moretti is too stubborn to let a cunt like that be his end.”
“You can’t know that, Nico.” Her voice is too small, and it hurts me to hear it.
“No. But I have to believe it if I’m going to survive this, phoenix.”
This time when she nods, I can see the determination in the set of her jaw, as if she’s forcing herself to have hope. She wriggles in my arms before she stands and starts stretching out her limbs. I decide to join her, only realising when I move that my legs feel like dead weights.
I twist my shoulders from side to side, trying to stretch outmy spine and ease the knots in my back. It works to an extent but does nothing to soothe the tension bubbling under the surface, my nerves perpetually preparing for either good news or bad. Elation or misery.
Fuck. I hate this.
We’re sleeping in shifts but are restless as fuck. We can only manage to close our eyes for a few minutes at a time. Aurora crosses the room and lifts Sinclair’s head carefully before sitting and laying him back down to sleep cradled in her lap. I pace as she strokes his hair. As the minutes pass, her entire demeanour shifts.
