Chapter 24 – Cyril
There’s blood on my hands.
It’s dry now. Caked into the creases of my knuckles, cracked and dark. It’s not mine. It’s hers.
Enya’s.
The smell’s still there, metallic and bitter. My shirt’s stiff from it. Her blood dried across my chest, like some fucking brand burned into fabric. No matter how many times I clench my fists, I can’t stop feeling it: warm, fresh, soaking through my arms as I held her on that floor. Her head on my lap. Her body limp. The warmth slipping from her.
I stand outside the OR, back against the pale blue wall, the overhead fluorescents buzzing like flies inside my skull. Nurses pass by in clacking shoes, not one of them meeting my eye. They keep their heads down. I’m not sure if it’s out of respect…or fear.
Either way, I don’t give a shit.
Gael appears at the end of the hallway, stepping out of the elevator with quiet purpose. He doesn’t say anything right away. He just walks up, stops beside me, and gives a nod.
“Ren’s back at the estate,” he murmurs. “Alvise doubled security. No one gets near him.”
I nod, but it sits wrong. My gut twists. I wanted to keep Ren with me, keep him in my arms, where I knew he was safe. But he’s already been through enough. He’s just a kid. He wanted to go home. He begged me, through tears, to go back to his bed, to his toys, to some place that didn’t smell like blood and death.
So, I called Alvise.
I told him to take my son home.
He didn’t ask questions. He just came. Took Ren into his arms and said, “I’ll watch him tonight. Personally.”
And I let him go.
I’ve never hated myself more.
The ringing’s still there. From the gunshot. From the screaming. From my own heartbeat pounding so fucking loud in my ears I can’t think.
It plays on a loop.
Her scream. Ren’s voice. The shot.
That son of a bitch Kai aiming at my son. That fucking bastard smiling, twitching, unraveling, trying to take what little I had left….
I see her jerk forward. I see her eyes. Her blood. My bullet ripping through Kai’s chest. Him dropping like trash.
I killed him too fast. It should’ve taken hours. I should have made him pay for the pain he’s put me through.
A nurse walks by with a clipboard. I move without thinking. My fist slams into the wall. The drywall gives way with a sick crack. She jumps, clutching the board to her chest, wide-eyed.
“Go,” I snarl.
She scurries off.
I sink into the chair beside the OR door, blood-stiffened hands resting on my knees. My back screams from pain and stress.
I don’t realize I’m muttering to keep my sanity alive until Gael places a hand on my shoulder.
“You gotta breathe, Boss.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking breathe.”
The OR doors swing open.
A doctor steps out, wiping sweat from his brow, his scrubs stained. I jump to my feet.
“How is she?”
He hesitates.
I step forward. “You pause again, I swear to God I’ll put your head through this wall.”
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t back down. “We stopped the bleeding. But she lost a lot of blood. She’s stable, but we won’t know more until she wakes up.”
“When?”
“Hours. Maybe longer. We’ve done all we can.”
“Then do more.”
“Sir—”
I jab a finger in his face. “That woman took a bullet saving my son. If she doesn’t wake up, you don’t go home. Are we fucking clear?”
He nods quickly and disappears back through the doors.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Aldo.
I answer. “Put Alvise on.”
There’s shifting and mumbling. Then Alvise’s voice, cool and coiled: “We’re moving?”
“Everything. Everyone. No more shadows. I want every Fiore front taken apart…. Burn them or bleed them.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t ask questions. Just says, “Understood.”
“And find Gino. He was part of this. I want him alive…until I say otherwise.”
My tone turns bleaker than death.
“This doesn’t end until Fiore’s name is nothing but soot.”
I hang up before he can reply.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands.
The hallway smells like antiseptic. The walls are too clean. Too bright. Like they’re mocking me.
I’d burn the whole fucking city down to fix this.
But I can’t do a goddamn thing except wait.
And I’ve never been good at waiting.
Not when it comes to her.
Because if Enya doesn’t open her eyes….
If she doesn’t come back to me….
Then I swear to God, this fight turns into a war that the Fiores will never survive.
The trauma bay doors swing open.
I’m up before I realize I moved. Heart in my throat. Feet already carrying me forward.
A woman in green scrubs steps out. Her hair’s tied back. Her hands are clean.
“Mr. Carfano?”
“Yeah,” I rasp.
She gives a small smile.
“She’s stable. And…she’s awake.”
I don’t move. I just close my eyes as they well up with tears and gasp in relief.
And for the first time in hours, maybe days, I fucking breathe.