58. ADRIANA
ADRIANA
I sat in the sterile waiting room, my head in my hands, rocking back and forth in silent prayer. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose, mixing with the lingering scent of Joey’s blood on my dress. It had dried stiff against the fabric. I couldn’t get the image out of my head—the way he stumbled, the way his body crumpled to the pavement, the way his blood pooled beneath him.
Joey wasn’t a saint. He had done terrible things. Things I had chosen not to think about. Things I had turned a blind eye to. But I couldn’t live without him.
Paul and Marco paced in front of me like caged animals, their fists clenched, shirts still smeared with Joey’s blood. The double doors swung open, and a doctor emerged, pulling down his surgical mask. I bolted upright, jumping out of my chair.
“He’s stable,” the doctor announced. “We managed to remove the bullet. He’s lucky to have been brought in so quickly. But he’s got a long recovery ahead of him.”
My knees buckled as I collapsed into the chair behind me. A strangled sob tore from my throat, pressing my hands over my face. Paul sank into the seat next to me. “He’s gonna pull through, Adriana,” he muttered, wrapping me in a side hug. “But whoever did this won’t get away with it.”
Marco’s jaw was tight as he stood across from us. “They’ll regret the day they ever crossed Joey Romano.”
A month ago, the thought would have terrified me. A month ago, I might have begged them not to retaliate, not to spill more blood. But now I felt nothing. No remorse. No hesitation. Whoever was brave enough to try to take out Joey had a bullseye on their back.
“Let me take you home and get you cleaned up,” Marco said gently. “Paul will stay here, and you can come back after, but you need to get out of that dress.”
I glanced down at the bloodstains. He was right—I needed to get it off, but there was something else gnawing at me. Antonio . I had to tell him what had happened before someone else did.
My heart clenched. Oh God. This was going to destroy him.
Marco guided me through the hospital corridors. I felt numb, almost like I was floating. Everyone I passed stared at me in horror as they looked at the sight of my dress, and I didn’t blame them. This was horrific.
Marco opened the passenger door for me. I hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the seat. My eyes drifted to the backseat, where Joey had sat just a few hours ago. The faint, dried blood was still there, staining the upholstery. A shiver ran down my spine as the memory hit me—how quickly everything had spiraled out of control.
“Marco,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “I need to tell Antonio. He has to know.”
Marco closed the door softly, his face hardening. “Do you need me to stay and help you?”
I nodded quietly as I sat in the passenger seat, the steady hum of the engine lulling me into a strange kind of daze. The weight of what had just happened was still suffocating me. As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a cold chill settle deep in my bones.
I stepped out of the car, my legs shaky as I walked toward the front door. When I opened it, I saw Rosa standing in the kitchen, her back to me. She spun around, expecting to find Joey walking in beside me. Instead, her eyes landed on me—bloodstained, disheveled, and broken.
Her face drained of color as she rushed toward me. “Adriana,” she whispered. Her hands moved over me, checking for any wounds. I was fine— physically . But Joey wasn’t. I collapsed into her arms. The tears came, thick and fast, flooding down my cheeks. The horror of it. She held me tighter, murmuring comforting words I couldn’t make out through my sobs.
I needed to tell Antonio. I had to. But how could I? How could I break his world with this?
I let Rosa guide me upstairs, helping me out of the bloody dress. As I stood under the warm spray of the shower, I closed my eyes, trying to wash the blood away—trying to wash the guilt and the terror out of my soul. But I knew I couldn’t. That stain was there to stay.
Marco was waiting downstairs, his silence a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in my head. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t say a word. Just waited for me to be ready. Our eyes met, and Marco silently followed me up the stairs. I hesitated as I reached Antonio’s door; the weight of what I was about to say consumed me. I didn’t want to do this. But I had no choice. I couldn’t let him find out any other way.
I raised my hand and tapped on the door before cracking it open just enough to see Antonio sitting on the bed. His eyes met mine instantly, brows furrowing in confusion as he took in Marco’s presence behind me.
“Antonio,” I said softly.
“Yeah?” He sounded calm, but I could see the concern in his eyes .
I stepped inside, Marco following, and stood there for a moment, unsure how to begin. “We need to talk to you,” Marco said. He sat down on a chair across from Antonio.
I slowly made my way to the bed, sitting next to Antonio. The truth was a weight I couldn’t avoid anymore, but I was terrified of how he’d react.
“Joey,” I started, my voice faltering. I paused, not knowing how to go on. “Joey was almost killed tonight.”
His face twisted in confusion, and I could see the tension ripple through him. “What are you talking about?” He leaned forward, brow furrowed in disbelief. “He’s alive?”
I nodded, trying to steady my voice as I reached out to gently caress his back. “Yeah, he’s going to be okay.”
Marco spoke up. “Don’t worry, Antonio,” he said. “Whoever did this won’t get away with it. They can’t hide when the entire state is looking for them.”
But Antonio didn’t seem to hear Marco. He stood up abruptly, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and disbelief. His breath quickened, and without a word, he rushed to the bathroom just a few feet away. The sound of him retching echoed in the silence that followed.
I stared at the door, my chest tightening. This was a nightmare. How had it come to this? I thought we had escaped it all, but somehow, the violence had followed us.
I could hear Antonio’s harsh breathing, and the sound of him gagging was enough to make my stomach churn. I closed my eyes, wishing I could take all of this away from him. But I knew I couldn’t. The reality of it—of what had happened and what was still to come—was crashing down on all of us.
I glanced at Marco, who looked just as helpless as I felt. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.