For us.
The high-pitched, insistent beeping sound was a drill bit boring directly into my skull.
“Turn it off,” I rasped. My tongue felt like sandpaper as it scraped over dry, cracked lips. Every inch of me throbbed in protest, as if a semi-truck had plowed over my body.
“Fuck,” I grunted, lifting my hand to my face. My fingertips grazed a plastic tube lodged in my nostrils. “What the hell is this shit?”
A warm hand touched my shoulder. “Nico, can you hear me?” Matteo asked.
“Yeah, I can fucking hear you.”
A sharp sting radiated from my stomach. I blinked slowly, trying to focus on my surroundings. The first thing I saw was Matteo looming over me, a bandage wrapped around his head. Luca stood beside him with a hint of worry flickering in his eyes.
I glanced to my left to see Lo lying in bed next to me, hooked up to an IV, a cup of Jell-O in his hand.
“Want some?” he asked, a mischievous grin on his bruised face.
“What the fuck?” I groaned. “You’re alive?” Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to wrap my mind around the sight of my brother somehow still breathing.
His expression shifted, a frown creasing his forehead. “Yeah. The bullet grazed my shoulder blade. I hit my head on some debris, knocked my ass out cold.”
“Damn, Lo. I thought…” My relief surged, and I fought to steady my breath.
He smiled warmly. “I know. I’m glad you’re okay too.”
His guardian angel was watching over him, or maybe it was Mom. I smiled at the thought.
I turned to Matteo, my gaze sweeping over him. “How’s your head?”
He winced slightly, a hand instinctively going to the side of his temple. “It’s fine.”
“But his ego took a hit,” Lo said, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Shut the hell up,” Matteo shot back. “I was trying to save your ass back there.” He glared at Lo.
I let out a low grunt as I shifted, searching for a position that didn’t send jolts of pain through my body. “How bad is it?” I asked no one in particular.
“You were shot and stabbed,” Luca said, his expression serious. “They had to perform surgery and were able to remove the bullet. You lost a lot of blood, but they gave you a transfusion.”
I tried to sit up, but a wave of pain shot through me, forcing me back against the pillow. “Gigi,” I croaked. “Where’s my girl?"
The last thing I remembered was her passing out.
Luca shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “She’s here and is going to be fine.”
His words brought a sense of relief, the weight on my shoulders momentarily lifting. “Good. I want her. Take me to her.”
“Nico,” Luca interjected, his tone firm. “You need to rest. You just woke up from surgery. You can’t?—”
“Damn it, Luca!” I grimaced from the pain, but desperation surged through me. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you, I want to see my girl.”
GIGI
“You’re awake,” a familiar voice said, breaking through my confusion. I turned, my heart racing, only to freeze in shock.
Surely my eyes were deceiving me, or this was heaven. I attempted to sit up, but it felt as though a herd of elephants was thundering through my skull.
She rushed to my side, gently pressing me back against the pillows. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Gigi.”
