38. Enzo
ENZO
I stepped into the hospital room, ducking my shoulders beneath the doorframe.
The air was thick with the sterile tang of disinfectant and lemon floor polish, but not even that could scrub away the scent of death.
It clung to the walls like smoke, dense and unmoving.
The rhythmic beeping of the monitors felt slower here, each sound spaced out like a countdown.
Amara’s mother was asleep on a cot in the corner. The rest of the family had scattered to waiting rooms or cafeterias, trying to find a break from the reality pressing in. That was why I’d chosen this moment. I needed a sliver of time alone with her.
My sister-in-law—caught in a world that punished innocence—looked impossibly small beneath the hospital blankets. Her body seemed to sink into them, as if she were trying to disappear.
When her eyes fluttered open and she saw me, she smiled. Or tried to. It looked like it cost her something.
Her skin had turned a pale, yellow hue, and deep shadows framed her eyes. Pain had carved itself into every line of her face.
“Hey,” she rasped.
She touched her head, making sure her hat was still in place. I reached over and helped straighten it.
“Hey, littlest one,” I said, dropping down into the chair by her bedside.
“You look tired,” she said softly.
I let out a dry chuckle and waved it off.
“Just a work thing.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie. I hadn’t slept in days. Most of my time now was spent taking over Atticus’s operation, one name at a time. And the rest? Chasing a match for Amara. It was the most important thing; the only thing that mattered.
“You work too much.” She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes.
I reached for her hand. It was frail, wrapped in tape and IV tubes, and I couldn’t help but notice how wrong it looked inside my calloused one.
“I’ve got a favor to ask,” I said quietly. “A big one. And I can only ask it of my favorite sister-in-law.”
“I’m your only sister-in-law,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“But still my favorite.”
Her smiles required more effort now, and I cherished every single one.
“I need you to hold on, Amara. Just a little longer. I’m close to finding a match.”
Her eyes lingered on mine.
“A match?” she repeated slowly.
“Yeah.” I couldn’t explain more. Not yet. Not safely.
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment before looking back at me, her gaze piercing.
“Will someone have to die?”
I looked away.
My jaw clenched because I couldn’t lie. Not to her.
I’d planned on dismantling the organ trafficking organization, but knowing Amara wouldn’t survive much longer without a transplant, I intended to use the resources of Organs of the Night to find one for her.
Even if it meant someone else had to die.
I’d bear the consequences and I’d pay for those sins gladly if it meant she lived.
For her family. For her sister. For all of us.
“People die every day,” I said, but the words tasted bitter.
She didn’t blink.
“But is this person going to be killed because they’re a match?”
I swallowed hard. The truth sat heavy in my throat, refusing to come out. When had I become such a coward?
I looked back at her. Her eyes, glassy and fever-bright, were locked on mine.
“Amara, think of your family. Your sister. Think of me,” I said, my voice cracking. “I know you’re in pain, but please hang on.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, my voice coiled with guilt and desperation.
“I don’t want to trade my life for someone else’s,” she murmured. “That’s not fair. I know I’m still young, but I feel old and so tired. I don’t want to keep doing this.”
I shook my head, squeezing her hand gently.
“You’re too important to everyone. We’re not giving up.”
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “But only if you promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“When I’m gone… be there for them.” Her gaze shifted to her sleeping mother. “Whatever it is you’re planning, they won’t understand. They’ll hate it. They’ll try to shut you out. Don’t let them. Especially Pen. She’ll need you.”
“Amara—”
“No. Listen to me, Enzo,” she interrupted, more strength in her voice than I’d heard in weeks.
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s changing you.
I see it in your face. You don’t have to become something ugly for me.
You brought me roses. You’re my brother-in-law, a part of our family, and most importantly, you’re a good man. Don’t lose that because of me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I stared at her, suddenly unsure who the adult was between us.
“You’ll need them too,” she added. “Whatever you’re doing, even if it’s for the right reasons, it’s still wrong. Don’t do it. Not for me. I think it’s too late anyway.”
She was breathing harder now, each inhale labored.
“Make a better world for me, Enzo,” she said. “Make it better. Maybe bring me flowers once in a while.”
Her smile was faint, but real. It shattered me.
I nodded, barely able to speak. “I promise,” I croaked.
“Good,” she whispered. “Now I can rest.”
I didn’t know if she meant for the night… or for good. And that fucking terrified me.
Her eyelids drifted shut. I stayed beside her, holding her hand as the monitors beeped in their endless, eerie rhythm. It was the cruelest lullaby. Steady. Comforting. Dreadful.
Amara was right. She’d never forgive me—or herself—if someone else died for her.
But God help me… I wasn’t sure I could keep that promise.