Faked A Dark Mafia Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,74

hole buried in her hip filled with crimson. My hands slipped until Michael thrust a towel underneath my palms. Blood soaked through it in seconds. She was bleeding too much, too fast.

Michael dialed 9-1-1.

She grasped at my forearms, the tan rapidly drained from her body. Her gaze faded to blue slits. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she mumbled my name.

“Deep breaths, Liana. Don’t close your eyes, baby. Please.” My free hand cupped her pale cheek. “Stay with me.”

I pushed on the wound.

She grimaced.

A sheer, black panic wrapped my chest. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.

I blinked.

People stood everywhere. Police and EMS swarmed the apartment. The paramedic listened to her lungs as I screamed. She couldn’t breathe. Why was nobody listening? Why—

Someone yanked me away as they loaded her onto a stretcher. She was whisked out of my sight. I rushed after her, but officers pulled me back. They asked me things I didn’t understand. Over and over. The same stupid questions that made no sense. Their garbled voices sifted through my brain, like sound passing through water.

She’ll be all right.

She’ll make it.

A sharp edge stabbed my palm—the seashell.

A dull confusion swirled in my head. I must’ve ripped it from Liana’s neck. As my thumb stroked the familiar surface, my stomach dropped. A gallery of images flashed through my mind.

I gave it to her.

It was me.

Twenty-Eight

Vinn

We love each other.

We'll be together.

I muttered the words into my closed palms, as though repeating them triggered a spell that’d make everything right. The bloody necklace wrapped my hands like a rosary. I didn’t believe in God, but I fucking prayed. Anguish shattered my last sense of control.

During the hospital ride, I clutched at my hair. I screamed. I rode a wave of intense flashbacks in the waiting room. I covered my face, trembling, a deep pain gnawing at me.

We love each other.

We’ll be together.

I wiped my eyes.

White surrounded me, so vivid it burned.

Michael sat a short distance away. He probably drowned in his guilt. His wife massaged his back, whispering hopeful words I clung to.

“She’s been in surgery for a long time. That’s a good sign, honey.”

He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”

“She'll pull through,” she said, her voice thick. “She grew up with you. That means she's stubborn as hell and won't give up.”

I tuned her out, unable to hear give up without a wrenching agony in my chest. I focused on breathing. In and out. Slow. I counted my breaths as though they might help Liana in the OR.

“Can I get you something? A clean shirt?” Carmela’s hand rolled over my shoulder and squeezed. “Cup of coffee?”

I met Carmela’s winged gaze.

Save her. Please.

She flinched and let go.

Michael's hot eyes cut at me, and I could've grappled with him on the floor if fighting with him hadn't gotten her hurt in the first place.

A man in blue scrubs emerged from the double doors. He ignored everyone in the waiting room, making a bee-line for me.

“Are you Liana Costa’s husband?”

I stood. “Yes.”

He rubbed his flushed neck. “She’s in recovery. The gunshot ricocheted through her pelvis, causing multiple fractures, and it tore through a major artery, but we were able to stop the bleeding. Her vitals are stable, but she’s in critical condition.”

His words worked through my frozen brain.

“When can I see her?”

“Right now. One person at a time.”

He brought me into a maze of dark rooms and showed me to a bed where Liana lay, unrecognizable under the tubes. A suffocating sensation tightened my chest.

It’ll be okay.

I gripped her ankle. The relief I’d waited for wouldn’t come. I didn’t want to leave her, but they made me return to the waiting room, and I sank in the same seat. Michael came and went.

My awareness faded to a dull murmur as hours ticked by. After a gentle suggestion from Carmela and a bundle of clean clothes shoved under my arm, I showered. Liana’s blood spiraled the drain. I cleaned her jewelry before dressing in jeans and a T-shirt.

Numbly I headed toward her room. Michael and Carmela already sat vigil at her side. I joined them, winding the necklace around her limp hand, tucking the shell behind her fingers.

Liana's brown waves spilled over the pillowcase, her eyes shut, her body lifeless. Maybe it was the fatigue. It was easy to daydream. The hospital bed melted into a deep orange sunset over water.

“I'm sorry I forgot,” I croaked, waiting for a flicker of life. “It was a long time ago, and so much has happened between then and now, but