Chapter 47
Quickly, I log in to my personal profile on the computer and trackers for myself, Darcy, Delilah, and even Ru pop up.
There’s also one for Ariana, but that’s unimportant right now.
Zane, Xander, and Damon watch the large screens on the walls that display my current view.
They speak in hushed tones as they quickly spot the same abnormality that I do.
Darcy and Delilah are separated. That doesn’t make sense.
My brows crinkle in confusion as I click on Darcy’s tracker, pinpointing her exact location.
Both Darcy’s cellphone and necklace trackers ping in the same spot, letting me know her person and possessions are in the same place—an alley off Bienville Street.
She is still, too still, while Delilah is moving at a pace that suggests she’s no longer on foot, but in a car moving toward the interstate.
My heart feels empty and my stomach sinks as I imagine the worst. But I push through my thoughts just long enough to confirm my suspicions.
A few more clicks of the keyboard and I’m able to access the nearest city surveillance camera to Darcy.
That’s when I see her—lying dangerously still on the cold ground amongst trash and empty beer bottles.
No one sees her and if they do, they don’t stop to help.
How long has she been lying there? Is she breathing? Is she—? Is Delilah okay?
Bottling all my questions and emotions, I move toward the door—without hesitation—barking orders all the way down the stairs.
“Damon, Zane, follow Delilah. Don’t intervene unless absolutely necessary.
He’s mine. Xander, analyze the footage surrounding the attack and send me the highlights.
I know who did this, but I still want confirmation, timestamps, everything and anything.
And then, wipe it. I don’t want any evidence out there that could lead back to us when Clive Cunningham mysteriously never makes it home. ”
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I pull out my phone and send four text messages.
The first is to Dr. R, telling him to meet us at the alleyway.
I don’t know what injuries Darcy has sustained, assuming—hoping—they are just injuries.
She may need immediate care. The next text is to Aidan.
With Killian and Milo still on their way back from Montana, I need extra hands.
I tell him to send a driver to the alley.
One with enough skill to get Dr. R, Darcy, and me across the causeway in record time.
And, finally, I text Ana and Ariana and tell them to head to the Amato estate.
My first priority is making sure Darcy is safe and not…
I can’t even think the word. But my second priority is Delilah.
And I know better than to leave Darcy alone in a house with a man she’s never met before.
Ana and Ariana will stay with her while I retrieve our daughter and finish the sick fuck dumb enough to try to take her—them—away from me.
“And Xander,” I say, just before reaching the door to the exterior.
“Find out who else is spying on us for the recently departed Serena Santos. This was her doing, but she didn’t do it alone.
This is weeks, months in the making. Who would’ve had access to me during that time?
Witnessed my movements or interactions with Darcy? I want a name, and I want it tonight.”
Each one of them nods, acknowledging their tasks. Then, they split in different directions, getting to work. Now, all that’s left is me. I falter for a second, only a second, as I consider what I may find in that alley. I consider the tragic possibility that will absolutely shatter me.
If Darcy is dead, then I give up. There is no life without her, no light, no hope.
And, because this isn’t the first time I’ve run head-on into battle to be crushed by the loss of someone I love, my body remembers the fear, the guilt, and the utter brokenness in a way that is all-consuming.
It’s crippling to where I know if I don’t run now, I’ll never make it to her.
And so, with my pistol strapped to my hip, I shove the door open and run.
I run as fast as I ever have, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other—one heartbeat at a time—until Darcy’s blonde hair, stained with blood, comes into view.
My ears ring and my eyes gloss over as I fight to remain present.
Dr. R moves about mine and Darcy’s bedroom, tending to her as she lay unconscious.
When I found her, she was unresponsive but had a pulse.
I mindlessly pop my knuckles as the memory flashes through my mind, along with the echo of my cries.
“Please, please don’t leave me. Please come back to me. There are always more chapters, remember? Our story has just begun. It can’t end now, not like this, not because of him.”
Those words and that memory—of her lying lifeless in my arms, her pale skin stained red—I’ll never be able to erase it from my mind.
But no matter how horrific, I cling to the mental images and memories of her as desperately as I do her soul, praying she does not depart this realm for the next.
Whether or not my memories stand to haunt me is yet to be seen.
But I would rather be haunted by her than to forget even a second.
My body riddled with emotion, tears drip silently down my cheeks as my mind plunges into a spiral.
On the exterior, I am stoic. I am Gio. But, inside, I am at risk of combusting.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
Not her. Anyone else except her. Take me!
After everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve to be here anymore.
Take me, God. Take me instead and give her her second chance.
She deserves it. Delilah deserves it. Delilah.
Thoughts of her pull me out of the spiral, out of my place of pity.
I can’t give up yet, not until she’s safe.
But as Darcy comes into view once more, I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave her.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to move a single inch, knowing that at any moment she could slip away forever, and I wouldn’t be here.
“Fuck.” I ball my fists, desperate to unleash the chaos inside me.
But I won’t disturb her healing space or disrespect the home we share.
It will always be ours. No matter what happens, this is her place. This is her home, as is my heart.
It’s then that my eyes flick to the picture on my nightstand.
It’s of Darcy and Delilah on the swing on the back porch.
Delilah is asleep, leaning against her mom while Darcy leans down and kisses her amongst her curls.
It’s one of my favorite photos of them because it reveals the purity of love.
How simple and beautiful it is to feel it and offer it.
How tragic it is to lose it. But I haven’t lost anything yet.
Not really. But if I don’t get Delilah back, I will lose everything.
Because, even if Darcy survives, she will never be the same.
She will never forgive herself or me. She will have lost her light.
And, I will have lost not only my daughter but her.
No. Our family isn’t broken yet, but if I don’t get my shit together, it will be.
“Gio?” I flinch as Ariana comes up beside me and places her hand on my arm. I’d forgotten she and Ana are even here. “Did you hear what Dr. R said?”
“What? What?” I turn between her and Dr. R with wide eyes and wet cheeks. Dr. R removes his glasses as he approaches. He sighs and I’m not sure if it’s in defeat or a sign that we’ve made it through the worst. “What’s happening? Tell me. Tell me now.”
“Breathe, son,” Dr. R assures me. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from biting his head off.
Patience is not a limitless virtue, and I’ve officially reached my life’s quota.
“She is stable. There was a laceration on the back of her head that is now stitched. I also found a minor fracture on the skull. Additionally, our scans reveal minor bruising and bleeding on the brain.”
“Well, then what exactly does stable mean because it sounds like she suffered severe head trauma? And I may not be a doctor, but I know head injuries can be life-altering, if not fatal.” I cross my arms over my chest as frustration threatens to overtake me.
“Yes, they can be. But, again, we’re talking about a minor fracture and minor bruising and bleeding.
I expect that when she wakes, she’ll have all her faculties and will be able to resume her normal activities.
She’ll be at a higher risk for headaches, and you’ll need to be on the lookout for dizziness.
It’s also possible that if things don’t heal properly, she could experience seizures or other complications.
In that instance, we’ll need to look at other treatment options.
But, again, everything should heal properly.
It was a clean break. She’s young and healthy.
And you know I offer the best care. Given the nature of the attack, this is an incredibly positive and, somewhat unexpected, outcome.
I won’t say she was lucky because that’s insensitive.
But you are lucky, sir. You will not lose her today. ”
At that, Dr. R pats me on the arm and returns to Darcy’s bedside. She’s hooked up to several monitors and there’s an IV delivering her medication. Her head is also bandaged all the way around to protect her stitches.
So, that’s what stable means. I pinch my eyes closed as fresh tears drip from them.
As I sigh in relief, the heaviness of my heartache and worry leaves me.
I didn’t lose her. I won’t lose her. I raise my hand and place it over my heart as it squeezes in my chest. I’d like to tell myself that the sharp ache was her spirit joining me, inhabiting the place where she knows she’ll be safe and loved until she returns to her own vessel.
When I open my eyes, Dr. R continues, “For now, the best thing for her is rest. So, I’ve placed her in a medically induced coma.
A week, maybe longer, under the medication will reduce her brain activity, reduce the risk of swelling, and allow her to heal.
I’ll remain here to observe her until she wakes and after she does, it could take several more months for the fracture on her skull to heal completely. ”
I nod, knowing enough about fractures to know that’s normal.
“Medically induced coma,” I repeat to myself.
That means I won’t hear her voice or see her open her eyes or know if there are any further complications for an entire week, maybe longer.
And Delilah’s trauma will only be extended as she waits as impatiently as I will for her mother to wake.
She’s going to need me. She’s going to need everyone.
It’s time I step up in a way I never have before.
Of all the roles I’ve played, I’ve never been a dad, not really, not all by myself.
But I won’t abandon Delilah. Perhaps focusing on her will make the time pass more easily.
Though, as I observe the woman I love laying in our bed—the same bed we’ve read stories in, the bed we’ve made love in, the bed we’ve confessed our deepest feelings and darkest secrets in—I know none of this will be easy.
“Gio, the guys have a lock on Delilah’s location. Clive stopped at a motel on the outskirts of Hammond, presumably to stay the night before continuing north tomorrow. From what they saw, she appears to be in distress but unharmed,” Ariana says.
I nod once more and take a deep breath. “Give me the room,” I say then.
Without hesitation, Ariana, Dr. R, and Ana leave me and Darcy to ourselves.
Ana gives me a reassuring hug on her way out.
As I hear the door click closed behind them, I find the strength to move my feet and head toward Darcy’s bedside.
Standing over her, I take her hand. The chill of her flesh forms a lump in my throat. She was cold when I found her, just as she was cold when I rescued her from those men on that bus. I imagine I’ll make it my mission to keep her warm for the rest of my life.
Remembering where she keeps the extra bedding, I head to the armoire and grab an extra blanket for her.
Draping it over her, I lean down and kiss her hand.
“I love you, Darcy Moretti. I love you more than life and the death I would welcome if I ever lost you. You see, you’ve got this hold on me that makes me never want to live a moment without you.
You are my greatest weakness and yet also my strength.
Because, somewhere along the way, you made me realize I am more than my past and I want more for myself than the life that was forced upon me at fifteen. Somewhere along the way, you saved me.”
I kiss her once more and squeeze her hand.
“You are mine. But the truth is, I think we were both made for each other. You, to teach me what love is, what it is to love and be loved. And I, to show you that you are worthy of the same love you give others and to protect you from anyone who would harm you.”
I stand then, feeling my stomach twist. Seeing her like this makes me feel like a failure all over again.
I didn’t protect her. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry you had to face him.
I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry you were alone and scared and abandoned.
” As the words pour out of me, I take in a sharp breath.
“But you are safe now. And you are surrounded by people who love you. You aren’t alone and you never will be again.
Now… Now, I’m going to go get our daughter.
Delilah will be okay. I’ll take care of her.
But she’s going to need her mom. So, rest well, my angel.
And then, come back to her. Come back to us. ”
With one last kiss, I put on the armor of darkness.
I allow it to consume me, and in it, I find the strength to leave.
I find the strength to finish this, him.
And, I realize, my darkness isn’t something in need of vanquishing or cleansing.
It’s a necessity in the world of evil men, a weapon to be controlled and wielded wisely.
As I leave the woman I love, I carry her with me and all the love she’s poured into me over the past several months.
Somewhere in it, in her, I find love for the parts of myself I’ve never liked.
They are necessary parts, worthy parts, the pieces of me that are going to bring our daughter back to us.
How could I ever hate my darkness if it is the very thing that will bring me sunshine?