39. Mia
39
MIA
A n annoying beeping sound claws its way into my mind, dragging me from the peaceful darkness. It’s persistent, shrill. I just want to sleep, but it won’t let me. The more I try to ignore it, the louder it seems to grow, until I can feel my pulse matching its rhythm.
Where am I?
Something heavy is pressing down on my chest. It’s uncomfortable. Suffocating. I try to take a deep breath, but my throat aches, dry and raw, and then I feel it—something in my throat. Panic flares. I can’t breathe. Can’t move.
What’s happening?
I start to claw at whatever foreign object is lodged there, my hands sluggish and weak, like they’re moving through thick molasses. The sensation of plastic, hard and invasive, makes me gag. I need to get it out . Need to breathe.
The beeping accelerates. It’s screaming now, blending with muffled voices and distant shouting. I try to make sense of the sounds, but they all blur together, like I’m underwater, drowning in chaos. There’s movement around me, hands grasping mine, pinning them down. More voices—urgent, commanding, afraid.
I’m afraid, too.
The panic intensifies. I want to thrash, to rip the thing out of my throat, but my body isn’t listening. There’s pain, bright and sharp, spreading across my chest like wildfire. Someone is yelling, a name—my name?—but it’s too far away. Everything is too far away, slipping further out of reach.
Then the darkness pulls me under again, and the noise fades into oblivion.
* * *
The next time I open my eyes, the world is quiet.
My throat feels raw, like I’ve swallowed sandpaper, and my chest… God, my chest aches. It’s a dull, throbbing pain, but there’s something else , too. A tightness that makes it hard to breathe. I blink slowly, trying to piece together where I am, why I hurt, but everything feels hazy. Disconnected.
The ceiling above me is sterile white. There’s a harsh fluorescent light overhead, the kind that makes my eyes hurt. The room smells faintly of antiseptic and something else—something metallic.
A hospital?
I turn my head, the movement sluggish, and see monitors beside me. Tubes. Wires. An IV in my arm.
Panic flares again, but I swallow it down, forcing myself to stay calm. Why am I here? Why does my chest feel like it’s been ripped apart?
Then it hits me.
The gunshot. The searing pain. Luca’s face—contorted with anguish and horror—as I bled out in his arms. The memory slams into me, so vivid I can feel the agony all over again. I gasp, my heart racing, and the beeping from the monitor beside me spikes, too. The sound jars me back to the present, to the stark reality of where I am.
I survived.
I should be relieved, grateful, but all I feel is confusion. Because… why am I still here? I was shot. Luca shot me. I remember the way my vision blurred, the darkness closing in around me. I remember thinking I was going to die.
Didn’t I die?
The room starts to spin, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to anchor myself. It’s okay. I’m okay. I just need to breathe.
Slowly, I open my eyes again, and that’s when I see him.
Luca.
He’s slumped over in the chair beside my bed, his head resting on the mattress, his hand curled tightly around mine. Even in sleep, there’s a tension in his shoulders, a weariness that tugs at something deep inside me. He looks… wrecked. His hair is a mess, dark stubble shadowing his jaw—thicker than I’ve ever seen it. There’s a hollowness to his face, like he hasn’t slept in days, maybe even weeks.
How long have I been here?
My heart softens as I take in his disheveled state. Despite everything, despite the terror and the pain, a smile tugs at my lips. He’s always so perfectly put together, so controlled. This Luca—the one with bloodshot eyes and messy hair—feels raw. Real. I comb my fingers gently through his hair, the strands soft and unruly beneath my touch.
He stirs, his grip on my hand tightening instinctively, and then his eyes snap open. For a split second, they’re wild, filled with fear and confusion. Then they land on me, and everything shifts.
“Mia?” His voice is rough, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in days. He straightens so quickly I’m surprised he doesn’t topple over, his hand still clutching mine like a lifeline. “Oh, my God, you’re awake. You’re really awake.”
The relief in his eyes is so raw, so powerful, that it steals my breath. He looks like a man on the brink of losing everything, only to be yanked back from the edge. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision.
“I’m here,” I whisper, my voice scratchy and weak. “I’m okay.”
He chokes out a sound that’s half sob, half laugh, and before I can process what’s happening, he leans forward, capturing my lips in a desperate, trembling kiss. It’s a kiss filled with anguish and regret and so much love that my chest tightens all over again. I kiss him back, savoring the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his hand in my hair.
But then pain lances through my chest, sharp and sudden, and I gasp, breaking the kiss with a hiss of pain.
“Mia!” Luca jerks back, his face going pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— Are you okay? God, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I rasp, blinking back the tears. “Just… hurts a little.”
His expression crumples, and he buries his face in my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, his voice cracking. “I’m so, so sorry, baby. I… I thought I’d lost you.”
“You almost did.” The words come out softer than I intended, but they hang heavy in the air between us. I can see the way his face twists with guilt and regret, his jaw clenched so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t crack.
“I know,” he whispers, his eyes wide and full of anguish. “I know. I never should have… Fuck, Mia. I’m so sorry. You don’t know how much I wish I could take it back.”
I take a shaky breath, the pain in my chest flaring with the movement, but I push through it. “I remember,” I say softly, the words wavering. “I remember everything, Luca. I remember what you said before I blacked out.”
His gaze locks onto mine, and I can see the fear there, the way his entire body seems to tense at my words. “Mia?—”
“I remember thinking I was going to die,” I continue quietly. “But I also remember the way you looked at me. The way you begged me to stay.”
“Because I can’t lose you.” His voice breaks, raw and jagged, and my heart aches at the pain in his eyes. “I’m nothing without you, Mia. I know I fucked up, but please… Please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ll?—”
“Stop.” I squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet my gaze. “I’m not going anywhere, Luca. But we have to stop doing this to each other. We can’t keep hurting each other like this. We can’t keep pretending that we’re okay when we’re not.”
His shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him. He looks so broken, so defeated , and it hurts to see him like this. “I don’t know how,” he whispers. “I don’t know how to fix this. How to fix us .”
“You start by believing me when I say I love you,” I murmur, my thumb stroking over his knuckles. “Even when it’s hard. Even when you think you don’t deserve it.”
His eyes close, his face contorted in anguish.
“And you need to let go of your anger toward Dom and the Sicuras,” I continue.
“How can you still love me after what I did?”
“Because I know you.” I reach up, cupping his cheek with my free hand, feeling the rough stubble against my palm. “Because I know your heart. You’re not a monster, Luca. You just… got lost.”
His breath shudders out of him, and he leans into my touch, his eyes still closed. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. “I never did.”
“Then start trying to be the man who does.” The words are soft, but they carry a weight I can’t deny. “If you want me, Luca, you have to fight for us. Really fight. Not just against everyone else, but against yourself. Against the part of you that thinks you’re not worthy, the part of you that craves revenge.”
His eyes snap open, locking onto mine, and I see something shift in his gaze—something fierce and determined. “I will,” he promises, his voice low and fervent. “I swear to God, Mia, I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for what I’ve done.”
Tears blur my vision again, and I smile, a small, trembling smile. “That’s all I want, Luca. Just… stay with me.”
“Always,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to my hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Before I can respond, the door swings open, and a doctor steps inside. He looks surprised to see me awake, but his face softens with a smile.
“It’s good to see you up, Mia,” he says gently, moving closer. “You’ve been through a lot.”
I glance at Luca, then back at the doctor. “How long…?”
“Two weeks,” he answers softly. “We had you in a medically induced coma to help with the healing process. But it looks like you’re making a good recovery.”
My mind reels. A coma ? For two weeks ?
“You’re very lucky to be here,” the doctor continues, his tone serious. “The bullet missed your heart by less than an inch. If it had shifted even a fraction…”
He trails off, and Luca goes rigid beside me, his face draining of color. I feel my own stomach twist.
“It was an accident,” Luca says quietly, his voice tight. “It will never happen again.”
The doctor’s gaze sharpens as he looks at Luca, then back at me. “I’m sure it won’t,” he murmurs. “Otherwise, we’d have to get the authorities involved.”
Luca’s jaw clenches, but he nods, his expression carefully neutral. “You have my word. It won’t.”
I can’t help but wonder, distantly, if Luca has managed to buy off the hospital staff. But right now, I don’t care. All that matters is that I’m alive.
“Will there be… any lasting damage?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
The doctor’s face softens. “No. You’ll make a full recovery.” He hesitates, then glances at Luca, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You and the baby.”
The words don’t register at first. I blink at him, confused. “The… what?”
“The baby,” the doctor repeats gently. “You’re pregnant, Mia. And both of you are going to be just fine.”
My gaze snaps to Luca, my heart pounding wildly. “Is… is he serious?”
Luca nods slowly, his eyes filled with something I can’t quite name. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Tears blur my vision, and I press a hand to my still-aching chest, overwhelmed. A baby. Our baby.
“We’re going to have a baby,” I whisper, a stunned, incredulous smile spreading across my face.
And for the first time in days, hope blossoms in my heart.