Chapter 37 DAN
DAN
Voices shout around me, but it muffles into static. All I hear is Rose’s shallow breaths as she fights to stay with us and Angelos’ broken sobs as he kneels beside his mother.
My hands are slick with her blood, pressing into her abdomen, trying to stem the flow. Judging by the way it pours, it’s penetrated her liver.
“Mum, I’m sorry,” Angelos cries, dropping the gun in front of him as if it’s burned his skin.
“It’s not your fault, son.” My voice is coarse, but steady. I’m a trained soldier. Trained for any situation, but nothing could have prepared me for this. I lower Rose to the floor, keeping one hand on her wound while I reach across her body and snatch the gun from between Angelos’ knees.
Elio, Magnus, and their men close in like vultures.
I raise the gun. “Get the fuck away from her.” My eyes scan the room, daring anyone to take another step.
“Let’s go, son,” Magnus says, reaching for my boy like he still has a right.
I swing the gun at him, my finger tight on the trigger. “You’ll never touch my family again.”
Rose’s cold hand brushes my cheek, her palm trembling as she slips in and out of consciousness. “Not in front of our boy.” Her eyelids flicker closed, and it takes all my strength not to pull the trigger.
I keep the gun trained on Magnus and nod to Elio. “Get him out of here before I kill him.”
Lucia slides out of her wheelchair, dropping to her knees at Angelos’ side. “Rose.” She strokes the hair from her forehead.
Rose opens her eyes again. Her blue eyes losing their lustre as the life drains from her body. “Take care of our son, Dan.”
“No, I won’t.” I press my palm harder against her wound, but the blood won’t stop. “You’re going to take care of him. Just like you always have.” My eyes plead with her to fight. “We’re going to take care of him together.”
Her lips ghost a bitter smile. “Happy ever afters don’t happen to people like us.”
“Yes, they do. They fucking do. Don’t you dare leave me again, Rose.”
The paramedics charge into the room.
Elio helps Lucia to her feet, to make room for the paramedics. Angelos clings to her side, his bloodstained hands clutching her sleeve.
He should be in my arms. But he won’t even look at me.
The paramedics haul Rose onto a stretcher, packing the wound. I need to go with her, but I need to keep my son safe.
“Angelos, let’s go in the ambulance.” It’s the only way I can keep my eye on the both of them.
“I’m going. I’m her brother,” Elio snaps.
“Solo uno. Only one allowed in the ambulance,” a paramedic says.
Fuck. There’s no time to argue, no time to think. I’m torn between the two of them.
Lucia must sense the anguish on my face as her hoarse voice cuts through the conflict. “Go with her. We’ll bring Angelos to the hospital.”
Police filter into the house, but I’ve no time to stop and answer questions.
I nod once at Elio, knowing he has them on his payroll, and sprint after the stretcher.
I climb into the back of the ambulance and sit stiff-backed on the bench as they work on her. I’m helpless as I bring my trembling bloodstained hands together under my chin and bow my head low, doing the only thing I can do.
Pray.
They rush her straight into surgery.
I try to follow, but a nurse blocks my path with her palm pressed to my chest. "You’ll have to wait out here, sir."
Sir. Like I’m some stranger.
I pace the corridor like a caged animal, fury and fear gnawing at my insides. My shirt is soaked in her blood. I glance down at my trembling hands, crimson streaking the lines of my palms. Her blood. Too much of it.
Ducking into the nearest restroom, I scrub my hands under the freezing water. Red spirals down the plughole, but the stains won’t lift from under my nails.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my face hollowed by guilt and terror. Get it together, Bianchi. She’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to. Because if I lose her…
It won’t happen. It can’t. My son won’t lose his mother like I did.
Memories threaten to invade the present, but I push them aside.
I haven’t time to revisit the past, even though it’s the catalyst that caused all of this.
A lifetime of family rivalry has led us here.
And this is not where it ends for my family.
My hands won’t stop shaking under the dryer. I yank out my phone, my fingers fumbling over the screen, and fire off a text to Riccardo.
Get eyes on Magnus Berlusconi. Don’t just tail him. Detain him. I want him breathing, but only just. If anyone’s going to kill the son of a bitch, it’s me.
It’s not enough. I need to be doing something. Anything other than standing here waiting to fall apart.
The gun weighs heavily in my inside pocket, a reminder that I had my chance to put a bullet between his eyes and I let him go.
I return to the waiting room, my heart battering against my ribs.
Lucia sits, pale but upright in her wheelchair, her oxygen mask slipping as she clutches it to her face, her other hand clenched around her rosary beads.
Angelos huddles beside her, his small frame curled tight as a spring, eyes raw from crying.
Elio’s there too, arms folded, his stare cold enough to freeze hell.
I don’t sit. I can’t. The only seat free is next to Elio, and I’d sooner stand till my knees give out.
Angelos’ quiet sniffling gnaws at me.
I want to go to him. I want to hold my boy in my arms and tell him everything will be okay, even if it’s a lie, but I’m afraid he’ll turn away.
Afraid I’ll see the same hatred in his eyes that I saw before the gun went off.
I know he blames me. They all do. They’re probably right.
My presence here fuelled everyone’s anger.
More people filter out of the room and the only sound is the clock ticking on the wall and the occasional sniffle from my son, but the throb in my temple is loud enough to drown out everything.
“Angelos, have you eaten today?” My voice comes out rough.
He shakes his head, wiping his nose on his sleeve, too exhausted to speak.
“Want to get a snack from the machine?” I nod towards the corridor and the vending machine.
Elio stands. “I’ll take him.” His eyes narrow as he walks past me and Angelos follows.
I watch them disappear, then drag a hand over my face and collapse into the chair beside Lucia.
Her frail hand pats my knee. “He’ll come around.”
I swallow down the lump rising in my throat. “You knew, didn’t you? About Angelos.” I gaze into her eyes, red with tears, her temples wrinkled with worry, but she gives me a warm smile, her eyes softening. “When you said he looks just like me, you meant Angelos.”
"Yes, I knew. But when I said he looks like you…" She touches my cheek like Rose did before she passed out, her palm warm. "I meant your father."
My spine bristles. “You knew my father?”
Her eyes glaze over with fresh tears as she nods. “He was a good man.” She lifts her mask to her mouth to take a deep breath, then pulls it back to her chin. “I’m sorry about what happened to your mother.” Her rosary beads rattle as she makes the sign of the cross.
I nod and say a silent pray, hoping my mother can hear me. If you’re up there, Mother, send me a miracle. I need you now more than ever. I close my eyes, praying to anyone who’ll listen. Just help Rose pull through this.
Angelos returns, clutching a chocolate bar and a can of pop. He looks up at Elio. "Uncle Elio… I feel sick."
"Just eat," Elio says gruffly, shoving the food towards him. "You need to keep your strength up for your mamma." His eyes flick to me, full of accusation. “This is all your fault, stronzo.”
My hands curl into fists. Why my father made me promise not to kill this fucker, I’ll never know. "If I recall, it was you who told him to pull the fucking trigger."
Elio’s face twists as he grips my shirt, forcing me back in the chair, spitting his fury into my face. “It’s not the first time my sister’s saved your miserable life. I should’ve finished the job when you were unconscious after your accident, but she made a deal for you.”
The words clang in my skull. “What are you talking about? What deal?”
He shoves me farther back in the chair, my head now resting on the wall. “You didn’t deserve her then, and you don’t deserve her now.”
I push up from the chair, my fists in his shirt, my rage barely leashed. “And if she dies, Elio, I swear you’ll wish I’d killed you today.”
He snarls back at me. “Whether she lives or dies. I’ll make sure you pay for everything you’ve put my family through.”
“Enough!” Lucia’s voice shouts through the tension. “Nobody is killing anyone.” She coughs, her hand flying to her chest. “Will you both sit down? You’re scaring Angelos.”
Her words slice through my anger. Angelos cowers behind Lucia, his eyes wide and brimming with fresh tears.
Reluctantly, I release Elio and adjust his collar like I haven’t just tried to rip his throat out. "What happened to the USB stick?"
“It’s at home. Safe.” He clenches his jaw, pushing me out of his space. “What was on it, anyway?”
“Your beloved brother-in-law has been playing you. He’s working with the Messinas.”
“I don’t have any beef with the Messinas.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You will when you open the drive. I told you, they’re stealing your shipments. It’s all on the drive.” I rub the stabbing pain in my forehead, making it difficult to think straight.
“How do you know?”
“It’s what I do, Elio. I gather intel. That’s my fucking job. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” A sharp pulse pounds behind my eyes. Pain crackles at my temples like an electric storm.
The door creaks open and a doctor enters, his expression grave.
I stand and hold on to the back of Lucia’s wheelchair for support. Angelos clings to her arm. Elio bristles at my side, and my heart pounds beneath my ribs as my intestines tie themselves into knots.
"She’s stable," the doctor says.
A rush of breath leaves my lungs and I say a silent prayer, my eyes flicking to the white ceiling and spotlights overhead.
“Can I see her?” Angelos asks.
The doctor’s lips tighten. “She’s in an induced coma. We’ve removed most of her liver, but…” He hesitates, then continues. “She has an underlying liver condition.”
“She’s hypoglycaemic,” I say.
“We found extensive scarring on her liver. She’s had this condition for a long time. It’s possible the symptoms were mistaken for hypoglycaemia.”
“What’s the condition?” Elio asks.
“We’ve found severe scarring and fibrosis on her liver. We’ll know more after tests, but it looks like autoimmune hepatitis.”
“What’s caused that?” Lucia says. “There’s no history of liver disease in the family.”
“There’s no single cause, Mrs. Conti. It’s likely a combination of triggers over time. Trauma, extreme stress, or infections.”
Nausea curdles in my belly. Acid eats away at my insides and all I can think of is the trauma she’s been through that’s been silently killing her all this time. Her body carrying hidden scars as well as her heart. But with the right environment, she can heal with time. She has to.
Elio scowls, still not fully understanding. "What trauma?"
I turn my head slowly towards him, my blood pounding in my ears. “Ask your beloved brother-in-law,” I rasp. “The same bastard who left her with enough scars to line a fucking map. The same one you let into your family without question.”
For a split second, Elio’s face drains of colour.
Lucia clutches her rosary tighter. Angelos stiffens between us, confusion flickering across his boyish face.
“You think that liver disease just happened?” I grind out, my voice shaking with a fury I can barely contain. “Years of him hurting her caused this. She kept it hidden to protect Angelos.”
Elio stares at me as if I’ve just driven a knife into his ribs. His fists clench. His mouth opens like he wants to deny it, then snaps shut again.
The doctor clears his throat. “Well, that explains the scars on her back.”
“So, what’s the next step? When will she recover?” Lucia says, rosary clenched behind her white knuckles.
He swallows hard. “The remaining liver isn’t likely to regenerate. She’ll need a transplant. And fast.”
Blood rushes from my head, making me dizzy. I lean on the wheelchair for support.
Lucia’s hand covers mine. “Okay. How soon can she get it?”
“We’ll start searching for a donor immediately, but I’m afraid we don’t just have spare livers lying around, and time is critical.”
Despite my hatred for Elio, one thing I admire about him is that the trafficking and organ harvesting stopped when his father died. But a spare liver would come in fucking handy right about now.
Angelos squares his shoulders, tears streaking his face. “She can have mine.”
I look at my son, who’s braver than any man I know, and I couldn’t be prouder at this moment. I turn to the doctor, knowing he’s not old enough to donate, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Take mine.”
“We’ll need to test compatibility.”
“I’m rhesus negative. Let’s get on with it.” I say a silent prayer to my mother, who was also the universal blood type. I feel a warmth shining on me as the sun filters through the window, as if she’s here telling me everything will be all right.
“It’s not that simple. We need to make sure yours is healthy enough to regenerate. There’s extensive testing. It will take time.”
“She doesn’t have time.” I take off my jacket and hand it to Elio, his gun in the pocket. “If anything happens to me, everything on that USB will be sent to my Italian Intelligence contact at the AISI. Don’t think I haven’t got insurance.”
I crouch in front of Angelos, cupping his pale face. "Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure your mum comes back to you in one piece."
His arms fling around my neck, tight and desperate. "I’m sorry," he chokes out.
I squeeze him back. A breath leaves my lungs, as if releasing all the tension of the past twenty-four hours. “This is not your fault. Do you hear me? Not one bit. I don’t want you blaming yourself for this. It was an accident.”
“I’m scared.” His lip quivers as I hold him at arm’s length, squeezing his shoulders.
“Me too, but we’re going to get through this.” I rise and pull my phone from my trouser pocket. “Your uncle Dom will come over and take care of you.”
Elio pulls Angelos back to him. “He already has a family to take care of him.”
I glare at Elio. “You couldn't even take care of a stray dog.” I spit the words out. “Let alone those you claim to love. Your property has so many weak spots it's beyond a joke.”
“You’re the only person who’s ever broken in.”
“Yeah, and it was a piece of piss, just like it was the last time I paid you a visit.”
“Gentlemen.” The doctor gives us both a stern look. “Shall we get on with it?”
I give the family one last pained look before I follow the doctor for tests and tap Dom’s name on my phone.
“What’s up?”
“I’m gonna need you to fly to Rome. I need you here, brother.”