was in the ICU, and Trey was in a regular ward. Nick and Donnie went to check on Trey first.
He’d been shot in the back, straight through, which was likely why he was still alive and probably wouldn’t be paralyzed. The bullet had passed near his spine, but hadn’t hit it. In fact, it had almost managed to pass clear through him, in the tiny space under his heart where no major organs met, but had clipped his liver on the way out. Internal bleeding had weakened him considerably, but he was going to heal completely.
Nick nodded at Rocky, the guard stationed outside Trey’s private room, as he and Donnie went in.
Trey was conscious, and alone. He was pale and obviously weak, but he was fussing with the TV remote and managed something like a grin when Nick came in. “Uncle.”
“Nephew.” Nick went to the side of the bed and gave Trey’s shoulder a squeeze. “Where’s Lara?”
“She and Frank are with my family, at the house on Caravel Road. She needed to sleep, and get away from here. Hospitals are hard for her.”
“I know. Is she holding up all right?” Lara had some mental health problems that something like this, with her man hurt, could activate dangerously.
Trey nodded. “I think so. Her father is with her.”
“Good. They’ll all take care of her.”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry about Elisa.”
Nick closed his eyes and took that blow calmly. “Thank you, nephew.”
“Rocky said you got justice. He said you did it yourself. You and Angie. He said they were Cuccia men.”
Donnie muttered darkly, “Rocky is a gossip, and he’d better keep track of his tongue.”
Trey kept his attention on Nick. “But they’re dead, the shooters? ”
“They are. They died like the scum they are. But it’s not over, Trey.”
“No. It can’t be.” Trey’s wan face darkened with fury. “They broke a holy truce and violated your home on Christmas. That whole family has to die. Bleeding in their beds.”
Nick squeezed Trey’s shoulder again. This was his rightful heir. The man who would, who should, lead their family after Nick’s time was done. The resolve he showed now only underlined that truth.
“Rest, Trey. Get well. We’ll have our vengeance. And our justice thereafter.”
~oOo~
As he and Donnie left Trey’s room, Carlo was walking toward the door, holding a tray that looked like a mix of hospital patient food and cafeteria offerings. Very clearly, the man had yet to sleep. He looked older than Nick, when Nick was the older of them in truth, and had also had a very hard night.
Like the night before, when Carlo saw Nick, he stopped dead, and they stared at each other. But unlike last night, Nick had found some control of his emotions. He’d organized his feelings, mastered them. Grief and rage were for quiet moments alone, or with his wife. Only then.
Otherwise, he was cool. He was the don.
“Carlo.”
“Nick.”
“Trey looks much better today.”
“You think? I think my son looks like he’s been shot and nearly killed.”
Nick didn’t answer. Or blink.
Carlo did. “Look. You lost Elisa last night, and my heart breaks for you. My boy got hurt, but he’s in there watching television and waiting for his food. So I guess I’m lucky, and I don’t want to get into this with you. But you have to know this is on you, Nick. All the hurt that’s rained down on our family in the past few years, on our town, it lands on you.”
Nick took every one of those blows and set them aside.
“Trey made his own choice.”
“I’m not talking about that, and you know it. Did Elisa choose, too?” Carlo winced—Nick did not, not visibly—and added, “I’m sorry. That was a foul, and I take it back. I’m not fit for this talk right now, and it’s not the time. I’m going in to be with my kid. Take care, Nick. Donnie.” Carlo walked past them and pushed into Trey’s room, ignoring Rocky entirely.
Donnie set his hand on Nick’s shoulder—the gesture had become habitual in this single day. This time, though, Nick shrugged it off.
“We need to talk to Angie and Bruno.”
He headed for the elevators, pushing his rage and pain into boxes for later.
~oOo~
The walls in the ICU were glass, so when Nick and Donnie arrived at Giada’s room they could see her in the bed, still unconscious, with all the various apparatus required to monitor and sustain her life. Under all that, there was little of the actual woman to be seen.