Chapter 2
Lorenzo
“Where is she?” I bark as I stride into the emergency room, my voice carrying through the sterile white space. Nurses glance up from their stations, startled by my tone, but I don’t slow down. “Where’s my daughter?”
“Dad!”
The sound of her voice cuts through the noise like a knife. I turn just in time to see Sienna rushing toward me, her face pale, eyes red from crying. I close the distance in three long steps and pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I can.
“Baby,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you hurt?”
I lean back to look her over. To make sure with my own eyes that she’s fine. She’s wearing a black dress and has a white blanket draped over her shoulders. I don’t miss the dried blood on her cheek and her hands.
She shakes her head. “I’m not hurt. But Birdie…” Her voice cracks, trembling like glass. “They won’t tell me how Birdie is.”
It takes a second for the name to register. Her roommate. The one my men pulled out of that blood-soaked apartment. The one who saved my only child.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I tell her, though I don’t know if that’s true. I just need her calm. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.”
Sienna jerks back, eyes flashing with that same stubbornness she’s had since she was little. “Dad, no. We need to find out how Birdie is!”
For a moment, I just stare at her—my little girl, covered in someone else’s blood, demanding answers like she doesn’t realize what kind of world she’s stepped into. A world I’ve protected her from her entire life.
I sigh, jaw tight. “Alright,” I say, my voice low. “We’ll find out.”
Then I turn toward the nearest nurse’s station, my tone snapping like a whip. “I need an update. Now.”
The nurse freezes, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Patient’s name?”
I glance at Sienna.
“Elizabeth Miller,” she says quickly.
The nurse’s fingers hover over the keyboard. “Are you family?”
I meet her gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her uncomfortable. “We are.”
Her mouth opens like she wants to argue but something in my expression must convince her otherwise. She swallows and starts typing.
“She’s in room three,” she says finally. “I’ll see if she’s up for a visitor.”
“Do that,” I reply, my tone dry but leaving no room for refusal.
The nurse disappears down the hallway, her shoes squeaking against the tile. I rest a hand on Sienna’s shoulder, keeping her close, even though she’s still trembling. She looks up at me, eyes bright with stubborn hope.
“Dad, she saved me,” she says softly. “Birdie pushed me out of the way. She got shot because of me.”
Her words hit like a slow punch to the chest. I don’t show it, but it burns all the same.
“You’re alive,” I tell her. “That’s what matters.”
“I owe her everything,” she whispers.
So do I.
Before I can answer, the nurse returns.
“She’s awake,” she says. “But she’s groggy. You can see her, but only for a few minutes.”
Sienna turns those pleading eyes on me. “Will you come with me?”
I nod. “Go ahead, baby. I’ll be there in a moment.”
She rushes off before I can say anything else.
I stand there for a moment, watching her go down the hospital hallway, her steps uneven, shoulders tight with fear and grief. I should follow. I should say something. But the words choke somewhere between my chest and my throat.
My hands bury deeper into the pockets of my coat to keep from punching the nearest wall. The adrenaline is wearing off. What replaces it is worse. That cold, steady fury that settles low in my gut. The kind that demands answers and blood in equal measure.
My men handled the shooters. That much I know. Clean, efficient, controlled just as I trained them. But the questions remain, echoing like gunfire ricocheting off steel.
Who sent them? And why was my daughter the target?
I’ve spent Sienna’s whole life shielding her from this world. Separating the Don from the father. Keeping the darkness far from her light. I built an empire of boundaries around her. Made enemies bow before they even dared to look her way.
And yet tonight some bastard still came for her.
Why now?
What changed?
The fury settles deeper, rising like a tide.
Whoever orchestrated this didn’t just attack my blood. They declared war. And God help them because I will answer it.
Shaking my head, I follow the path Sienna took to her friend’s room.
I’ve seen photos of her before laughing beside my daughter, holding some ridiculous coffee with a glitter-heart filter framing her face.
A harmless college girl. Sweet. Soft. The kind of friend I approved of without ever having to think twice.
But seeing her like this stops me cold in the doorway.
She’s pale against the white sheets, the fluorescent lights draining what little color she has left. A thick bandage winds around her arm. A dark bruise blooms across her temple like an ink stain. For a moment, the room tilts around me because that could have been Sienna lying broken in that bed.
Then her blue eyes flutter open.
And everything in me goes very, very still.
She is nothing like my Sienna—nothing like the polished, elegant life I’ve built around my daughter.
This girl is softness and curves and quiet fire.
Shorter than I expected, full-figured in a way that makes the hospital gown struggle to hide a single thing.
Even injured, even pale, she has curves that pull the eye—breasts that swell against thin fabric, a waist begging to be held, hips that could anchor a man.
Her hair is golden blond—real, not salon-spun. Her skin is delicate cream. Her lips a perfect cupid’s bow that looks made to be kissed. And God help me as her scent drifts toward me, I want to inhale her.
The reaction punches through me so fast, so hard, that I have to lock my jaw to keep it from showing. I shouldn’t feel this. Not here. Not now. Not about her.
A stranger. A girl bleeding in a hospital bed. My daughter’s friend.
But my body doesn’t care about the rules I spent a lifetime building.
Clearing my throat, I step closer, forcing control back into my voice. Even through the haze of pain, she doesn’t look away from me. Fear hums under her gaze—anyone with sense would be afraid of a man like me—but beneath it is something steadier.
Grit.
Strength.
Fire.
“You must be the girl who took a bullet for my daughter,” I say.
And for the first time since the chaos began, my voice is not cold or controlled. It’s rough. Low. Affected. Because standing this close to her I feel something I should never feel for anyone. Especially her.
Her lips twitch into a faint, wry smile. “That’s me. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Conti.”
The way she says my name does something strange to me. It’s sharp and low, like a spark in my chest and it turns me on so fucking much.
“Brave thing you did,” I murmur. “Stupid, but brave.”
She lets out a weak laugh, wincing as the sound catches. “Story of my life.”
Before I can respond, Sienna pipes up from the foot of the bed. “Dad, I was telling Birdie that she’s coming home with us.”
Birdie. What a childish name for a woman. Elizabeth suits her so much better.
Elizabeth shakes her head immediately. “It’s really okay. I’ll be fine here.”
“It’s not,” I say, cutting her off before Sienna can. My tone leaves no room for argument. “Sienna is right. You’re coming home with us until this matter is settled.”
Elizabeth presses her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes flickering from me to Sienna and back again.
She doesn’t argue, but I can see the resistance written all over her face.
She’s smart enough to know she’s stepped into something deeper than a random shooting and smart enough not to ask about it.
I hold her gaze for a moment longer, then nod once. “Get some rest, Elizabeth. We’ll leave when the doctor clears you.”
Her lips part like she might protest, but she doesn’t. She just watches me warily as I turn to leave. She has questions. I can see them in her eyes. But she’s not getting any answers from me. Not yet.
Out in the hallway, I pull my phone from my coat pocket. The screen lights up with a string of messages from my Capo, Cesaro.
Cesaro
Found several rats at the KC property. In the process of taking care of them.
No word yet on where the infestation started.
My jaw tightens. Rats. Always more of them scurrying out of the dark.
I want this handled before we leave town.
It will be.
How is S?
Shaken.
The friend?
Fine, but she’s coming home with us until the apartment’s rodent-free.
I’ll let the household know.
I slide the phone back into my pocket, the familiar buzz of business humming in the background of my thoughts. Still, something about that girl lingers. The look in her eyes—fear, yes, but something sharper underneath. Something that looked a lot like understanding.
When I step back into the doorway of her room, Sienna’s perched on the edge of the bed, talking fast and low. Elizabeth shakes her head, murmuring something I can’t catch, her face pale but stubborn. Whatever she says, my daughter doesn’t like it.
I clear my throat as I step inside. The sound cuts clean through their argument. Both of them look up.
Sienna straightens immediately. Elizabeth’s gaze meets mine, cautious but unflinching even though her cheeks are stained with a blush.
“Everything alright in here?” I ask, though my tone makes it clear I already know the answer.
Sienna gives Elizabeth a quick, nervous look before replying, “Everything’s fine, Dad. Birdie was just asking if we can grab some clothes from the apartment before we go to Chicago.”
Elizabeth’s blue gaze finds mine. It’s cautious, but with a spark of defiance that doesn’t belong in someone who nearly died tonight.
“Actually, Mr. Conti,” she says evenly, “I was telling Sienna that I’ll be fine at the apartment. There’s really no need to worry about me.”