Chapter 5
Present
Upper East Side, New York City
THE FIRE WAS ALWAYS THE same – heat swallowing the walls, smoke clawing into my lungs, Zach screaming my name as the world turned to ash. I woke with it burning in my chest, a gasp cutting through the silence.
The room around me was dark, lonely, too still, shadows stretched long against the pale wallpaper of the Carlyle suite. The city’s glow pressed faintly through the curtains, but it couldn’t touch the heaviness in me. My skin was damp, my heart still racing.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling as though the flames might lick across it any second. Sleep never stayed long. Most nights, it barely came at all.
The sharp buzz of my phone rattled against the nightstand. I reached over, frowning when the screen lit up.
Maria.
My stomach tightened. Maria had never called me before. I knew it wouldn’t be good.
I answered. “What is it?”
Her voice broke on the other end, choked with tears. “Matteo – ”
I was already swinging my legs out of bed, pulling on my pants. “What happened?”
“Someone – ” She sniffed through tears. “Someone tried to hurt me – ”
I didn’t let her finish. My voice cut in, hard, already moving where I knew this was going. “Where’s Zach.”
“I’m with him. At Lenox Hill.”
The suite door slammed behind me. By the time the elevator doors slid open, I was inside, stabbing the button, the phone pressed hard against my ear. “What happened?”
Her words tumbled out in shudders. “I was supposed to get shot, not him – ”
Her breath hitched, but I didn’t wait for her answer. I didn’t need to hear it. I already knew.
The line was still open when I pulled the phone from my ear and hung up.
The sliding doors of Lenox Hill opened too slow, the sterile light of the hospital spilling over me as I stormed through.
My pulse was hammering, my chest tight, the weight of every step pushing me faster down the long corridors.
The white walls blurred, the antiseptic sting of the air clawing at the back of my throat.
I didn’t even register the signs overhead, just followed instinct – followed the pull – until I slammed through the lounge doors with both hands.
“Where the fuck is he?” My voice tore out, sharp enough to snap every head in the room toward me.
The first face I saw was Trevor Su. Taller now than when I first met him over ten years ago. The one Zach always leaned on. He stood, hands out like he’d been waiting for me.
“Surgery. He’s fine – ”
But my eyes were already moving past him.
Maria sat against the far wall, shoulders curled in on herself, her face streaked with tears. Next to her, Natalia – one arm around Maria, her sharp gaze meeting mine like steel. I knew the look. Cosa Nostra blood, Francesca’s friend. Hacker. Trouble.
The sight of Maria in her fragility only sharpened the rage in me. My vision tunneled, breath cutting short as words ripped from me before I could stop them.
“If my brother dies because of you – ”
“Hey.” Natalia’s arm tightened around Maria. She didn’t flinch at my tone, didn’t soften. “Everyone’s scared. If you’re angry, take it outside. Come back when you’ve calmed down.”
My jaw clicked hard enough I thought it might crack. I didn’t look at Natalia. I couldn’t. My glare stayed locked on Maria, who hunched lower into her seat, tears falling, refusing to meet my eyes.
The silence stretched, heavy as a blade.
“Come on, man.” Trevor’s voice was softer now, closer. He touched my arm, trying to guide me back toward the doors.
I shook him off, every muscle coiled, refusing to step away. My body moved on its own, past Trevor, past the weight of the room, straight toward the hallway where one doctor had just emerged from, pulling off his gloves.
I went to him without hesitation, my voice cutting through the sterile air. “Tell me about my brother.”
The surgeon looked at me like he already knew who I was before I even opened my mouth. His eyes flicked once to the veins straining at my temples, then back to his chart, his tone calm in that trained, professional way.
“Come with me,” he said. “We’ll talk in my office.”
The hallway swallowed us as he led the way – white walls, fluorescent hum, polished floors echoing our steps. I followed him in silence, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt, my hand brushing against the weight tucked at the back of my waistband.
The office door clicked shut behind us. The air smelled of antiseptic and coffee gone cold. He sat behind his desk, the faint shuffle of papers trying to put distance between us.
“We’re doing everything we can,” he began, his voice slow, careful. “But…”
That word – but – hit me harder than a bullet.
I moved before I could think, crossing the space, grabbing his collar in my fist and yanking him halfway over the desk. The chair scraped back against the floor, his glasses sliding crooked on his nose.
The steel of my gun pressed hard against his forehead, cold against his sweating skin. His breath caught, a tiny sound, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, wide.
“If my brother doesn’t make it, neither do you.” My voice was low, steady, each word sharpened to a blade. “Or your wife. Or your kids. Understand?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed against my grip. He tried to speak, but no sound came at first. I shoved the barrel harder into his skin, watching his composure crack.
“I swear to you,” I leaned close enough to feel his breath shake, “If he dies, your entire fucking bloodline ends with him.”
Whether my fake threat had worked or not – I didn’t care.
The only thing I cared about in that moment was that my little brother was safe.
When he finally woke up, pale beneath the hospital lights but breathing, something inside me cracked open.
Hours of rage and fear drained from me all at once, leaving only the weight of relief pressing me weak against the wall.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until that moment, when I saw his chest rise and fall, steady, alive.
Four bullets in the chest he took to protect her.
In the quiet of his suite, I sat in one of the armchairs and watched him sleep, Maria in his arms awake too.
The room was dim, machines humming softly, the city muted beyond the glass.
His face looked younger in that silence, softer than the hardened man he’d shaped into; for a moment I could almost see the boy who used to cling to me on cliffside paths, barefoot and laughing.
All the blood, all the fire, all the years of darkness – we were still here. Still together. And for the first time in weeks, maybe years, I let myself close my eyes and simply be grateful.