38. Luca
38
LUCA
M ia’s body disappears behind the swinging doors of the operating room, and I’m left standing in the empty corridor, my hands covered in her blood. It’s seeping into my skin, staining it, a permanent reminder of what I’ve done. I can’t breathe, can’t think beyond the horror of knowing that she’s in there, fighting for her life because of me .
Then, everything happens at once.
A blur of movement, a shout, and pain explodes across my jaw. Sofia’s fist slams into my face before I even see her coming. My head snaps to the side, but I don’t move to defend myself. The shock of the blow barely registers because it’s nothing compared to the agony in my chest.
“You bastard!” she screams, her voice shrill with rage and grief. “You fucking bastard! You shot her!”
I barely get a chance to right myself before Bianca’s on me too, her smaller fists pummeling my ribs. There’s no precision to her strikes—just pure, unbridled fury. “How could you?” she sobs, her voice breaking. “How could you do this to her?”
The hospital erupts into chaos. Dom lunges forward, trying to grab Sofia and pull her back, but she twists out of his grip, her eyes blazing with hatred. Rork is nearby, arms folded and watching with a stoic expression, but he doesn’t move to help.
It’s like he’s waiting, watching with cold detachment as my punishment unfolds.
“Do something!” Dante shouts at him, but Rork just shakes his head.
“He deserves it,” Rork snaps, his gaze hard as he stares at me with utter loathing. “He shot Mia.”
And I do. I deserve this. Every punch, every scream, every single ounce of their hatred—it’s nothing compared to what I deserve. So, I don’t even try to defend myself as Sofia rears back, delivering another brutal hit to my stomach that makes me double over.
“Mia loved you,” she hisses, her voice thick with emotion. “And you betrayed her.”
“I know,” I gasp out, straightening. My ribs throb, my jaw aches, but it’s all distant, muted beneath the roar of guilt tearing me apart from the inside out. “I know, Sofia. I’m?—”
“You don’t get to apologize!” Bianca cuts me off, shoving me hard. I stagger back, but I don’t fall. Not yet. “She married you to protect Dom and you fucking shot her anyway!”
Sofia grabs me by the collar and shakes me hard, her nails digging into my skin. “She’s our baby sister!” she screams, her voice breaking with the weight of all the emotions tearing her apart. “You—God, you fucking monster ! You nearly killed her! Mama saw the blood, Luca! She fainted when she saw Mia like that—when she saw her baby being carried out with blood pouring from her body! I thought she was going to die, too !”
The image hits me like a punch to the gut. Sofia’s voice is thick with fury and pain. “How could you do this to her?”
The hospital staff swarm around us then, nurses and security guards pouring into the hallway, shouting for everyone to back up, to stop. “Hey! Hey! ” One of the guards pushes through, his voice booming. “That’s enough! If you keep this up, I’ll throw all of you out! This is a hospital, for God’s sake!”
“Calm down,” another nurse pleads, putting herself between me and Sofia’s furious advance. “You can’t do this here. Not in the middle of the ER.”
“Calm down?” Chiara snaps, her face pale. She steps between us, her eyes blazing. “My sister is in there, dying , and this son of a bitch?—”
“Would Mia want to see you fighting?” Dante’s deep voice cuts through the chaos, firm and steady. He steps forward, his arm wrapping around Chiara’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Think, Chiara. She loves him. She loves him, even after everything. Is this how she’d want us to be?”
Chiara goes still, the fight draining out of her as Dante’s words sink in. Her shoulders slump, and she shakes her head slowly, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “But I… God, I’m so angry .”
“We all are,” Dante says quietly. “But right now, Mia needs us. We have to be here for her. For when she wakes up.”
If she wakes up. The unspoken words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I can’t breathe around them, can’t think. My whole world narrows down to a single, horrible possibility—that I might have killed the woman I love.
“Do you think Mia would want this?” Dante continues. “Do you think she’d want to wake up and see us tearing each other apart?”
There’s a horrible, shuddering silence. Bianca and Sofia both go still, their faces wet with tears, their chests heaving with ragged breaths. And then, slowly, they step back, their rage bleeding out into something far more painful. Despair.
“She wouldn’t,” Chiara whispers, her voice shaking. She looks at me, her gaze filled with grief and bitterness. “But it’s so fucking hard to stand here and not hate you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking. I look at each of them—Sofia, Bianca, Chiara—seeing their pain, their anger, and knowing that I caused it.
“I’m so fucking sorry. You can’t possibly hate me more than I hate myself right now. But please… please, I need to stay. I need to know if she’s going to be okay.”
Sofia’s face contorts with rage, but Dom catches her arm, pulling her back. “Let him stay,” he says quietly.
“What?” Sofia whirls on him, her eyes wide. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? He tried to kill you!”
Dom’s gaze is steady as he meets her glare. “He loves her, Sof. You saw him back there. He didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that it did ,” Bianca snaps, but her voice is less certain now. She glances at me, her expression torn.
“If she dies…” I can’t finish the sentence. The words choke me, strangling the breath from my lungs. “If she dies, I’ll be begging you to put me out of my misery. But right now… right now, I just need to know if she’s going to make it.”
Chiara’s lip trembles, and for a moment, I think she’s going to slap me. But then she lets out a shuddering breath and turns away, burying her face in Dante’s chest. He wraps his arms around her, his gaze softening as he looks at me.
“Fine,” he says quietly. “You can stay.”
The others murmur in reluctant agreement, but the tension in the air is still thick, crackling with unspent rage. They’re not ready to forgive me. Hell, I don’t deserve forgiveness. Not from them. Not from Mia.
But at least they’re not kicking me out. At least I’m not going to be shut out when the surgeon comes out and tells us?—
My stomach churns. I can’t finish that thought. I can’t even think it.
Numbly, I stumble to a chair in the waiting area and drop into it, burying my face in my hands. Everything hurts—my ribs, my jaw, my chest—but it’s nothing compared to the agony tearing me apart inside. I shot her. I shot Mia . How could I have done that?
“Luca.”
Dom’s voice pulls me out of the spiral of self-hatred and despair. I look up to find him sitting next to me, his expression surprisingly gentle. He’s the last person I expected to see offering comfort, but there’s something almost… understanding in his eyes.
“Mia’s tough,” he says quietly. “Stronger than any woman I’ve ever met. She’ll pull through. She has to.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that Mia’s strength, her fire, will carry her through this. But I can’t shake the memory of her lying limp in my arms, her blood soaking into my clothes, her eyes fluttering shut.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“She will,” Dom insists. “She has to, for all of us. But mostly for you.”
“Why the hell would she want to live for me ?” I choke out, bitterness and grief twisting inside me. “I’m the reason she’s in there. I’m the reason?—”
“Because she loves you, you fucking idiot.” Dom’s voice is low but fierce, his eyes boring into mine. “I don’t get it. Hell, I probably never will. But she does. So get your shit together and be here for her when she wakes up.”
If she wakes up.
But I nod anyway, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” I rasp. “Yeah, I will.”
Out of nowhere, a new presence settles beside me.
Rork.
I glance over, startled to see him sitting there, his gaze fixed straight ahead. There’s no pity in his eyes, no softness. Just a simmering, dangerous anger that sends a shiver down my spine.
“If she dies,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “If Mia doesn’t make it… you better fucking run , Luca. Because I’ll make sure the entire Irish Mob hunts you down like a rabid dog. We’ll rip you apart, limb from limb, and we won’t stop until there’s nothing left of you to bury.”
His words are delivered so quietly, so calmly, that for a second, I almost think I imagined them. But then he turns his head, meeting my gaze with eyes that are cold and merciless. The scar running down his eyebrow and cheek makes him look even more sinister.
“You think you feel guilty now?” he continues, his voice like ice. “Just wait. Because if she dies, I’m going to make you suffer in ways you can’t even imagine.”
My throat tightens, and I nod slowly, the words caught somewhere between my chest and my mouth. “I know,” I choke out. “I deserve that.”
Rork’s eyes narrow. “No, Luca. You deserve worse. And if Mia doesn’t make it, I’m going to make sure you get worse. I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful. And even that won’t be enough to make up for what you did to her.”
His words are vicious, his gaze sharp as a blade, and I know he means every single word. If Mia dies… I won’t have to worry about my own guilt tearing me apart.
Because Rork O’Malley will destroy me before it gets the chance.
“Rork.” Dom’s voice is quiet, but there’s a warning in it. “This isn’t the time.”
Rork scoffs, looking away, his jaw clenched. “There’ll never be a right time for this. But I want him to know what’s coming if she doesn’t pull through. He should be fucking terrified right now.”
And I am. God, I am. Not of Rork. Not even of what the Irish Mafia might do to me if Mia dies.
No, I’m terrified of losing her. Of living without her. Of knowing that I’m the reason she’s gone.
I drop my head into my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as the horror of it all comes crashing down on me. I can’t lose her. I can’t . She’s everything. The air I breathe, the light in my life, the only thing that ever made this world feel worth inhabiting.
Please, God. Please, don’t take her away.
We lapse into silence, the minutes stretching out into what feels like hours. The others are scattered around the waiting room, tense and restless.
Chiara is curled up against Dante, her eyes red and swollen. Bianca paces back and forth, her face tight with worry with Rork silently watching her. Sofia sits apart from the rest of us, staring at the floor, her hands clenched in her lap.
No one speaks. No one even looks at me.
And then the surgeon appears, his face grave as he scans the room.
“Who’s here for Mia Strambo?”
Every head snaps up. The air thickens, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the words that will either save us or destroy us.
“She’s my wife,” I say hoarsely, standing up. My legs feel like they’re made of lead, but I force myself to step forward. “I’m her husband.”
The surgeon’s gaze lands on me, his face grim. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at me with those cold, clinical eyes.
“We need to talk.”