Chapter 37
Lucio
T he smell of antiseptic burns my fucking nose.
Hospitals always smell like this: too clean, too sterile, too fucking unnatural. Like they’re trying to cover up the fact that people are dying inside these walls every second.
I run a bloodstained hand over my face, my body stiff from holding myself together for too long. I can hear Emiliano losing his shit down the hall, his voice cutting through the thick tension that hangs in the air.
“I don’t give a fuck how it happened. I want to know who let it happen!”
The words echo off the walls, sharp and lethal, sending a fresh wave of rage through me.
“A breach like this doesn’t just happen!” Emiliano snarls, shoving a chair over, the metal clattering against the tile floor. “Someone fucked up, and when I find out who, I’ll make them beg for death before they even get a taste of it.”
No one dares to say shit. Even Romiro, usually the only one other than Valetina who can calm Emiliano down, is just standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight.
I clench my fists, trying to keep my breathing steady, but my vision keeps blurring red.
Ma is fighting for her life. Valentina is still in her hospital room, hooked up to a fucking IV, cradling Bianca like she’s afraid someone is going to rip her from her arms.
Mara hasn’t spoken since we got here, just sitting there, her hands trembling, staring at nothing.
Romiro finally exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “We need to get Mara out of New York. It’s becoming harder to keep her safe here.”
Emiliano grits his teeth, his rage barely contained. “Where?”
“Nicolo.” Romiro’s voice is calm, steady. “We’ll have him take her to Naples for a while. Keep her locked down until this is handled.”
Emiliano doesn’t even hesitate. “Do it.”
No one argues. Because he’s right. This war is just starting, and New York isn’t safe anymore.
Was it ever safe?
I lean against the cold wall, my head pounding, my body vibrating with the urge to hunt the motherfuckers who did this and carve them apart piece by fucking piece. The rage is there, sitting heavy in my chest, suffocating.
I don’t even register Matteo stepping up beside me until he speaks.
“Lucio.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach twist. A warning. A weight. I lift my head, meeting his gaze.
His expression is grim. “Tell me you’re not involved with the Gambi girl.”
My heart fucking stops.
“What?” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Matteo doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. “I traced the signal back to her house.”
The floor feels like it drops out beneath me.
I shake my head. “No.” My voice is sharper now. “That’s impossible.”
Matteo exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching. “It came from her place, Lucio. You tell me what the fuck that means.”
I can’t fucking breathe. The walls inch closer, like they’ve got orders to crush me alive.
The air’s thick, heavy, sticking to my throat as I drag in a breath that feels too sharp.
My chest tightens, a slow burn crawling under my ribs, and every second, the room feels smaller—like I’m being boxed in, cornered.
I can hear the blood in my ears, the hospital lights too bright, too white.
Even the shadows cling to me, leaning over my shoulders like they want a piece.
I don’t move, but I can feel the urge building—an itch under my skin, a pulse in my fists. This place wants to see me crack, and I’m not about to give it the satisfaction.
I push off the wall, my entire body on edge, every muscle tight with something I don’t know how to name. “I need to go.”
Matteo’s voice is cold, sharp. “Lucio?—”
I don’t stay to hear the rest. I don’t wait for Emiliano to demand answers. I just fucking leave.
The cold air hits me the second I step outside, but it does nothing to settle the storm inside me. My hands are shaking.
I grab my phone, my fingers twitching as I pull up her number. I stare at the screen…then shove the phone into my pocket and get into my car.
I need to see her. Now.