Chapter 43 #2
Inside, chaos reigns. The machines are screaming. A doctor is barking orders. A nurse is pressing compressions onto Ma’s chest so hard I think I hear ribs crack.
“No, no, no,” Eli mutters, frozen in the doorway.
Valentina appears beside him, her face pale, hands fluttering uselessly.
“Charge to 200. Clear.”
Ma’s body jerks.
The line stays flat.
Again.
Again.
And again.
Half an hour. They don’t stop for half an hour. Every slam of the paddles shakes the floor beneath my feet. Every “Clear!” punches through my chest like it’s being aimed at me. Every beep, every shouted instruction, every moment of silence after the shocks…it all builds until it’s no longer sound.
It’s pressure. It’s suffocation. And then…
“I’m calling it.” The senior doctor lowers his hands. “Time of death, 9:47 PM.”
“No.” The word comes from Eli. Low.
The doctor steps back, exhausted. “We did everything we could?—”
“No.” Eli lunges.
He grabs the doctor by the collar, slams him back against the heart monitor. The machine whines in protest.
“You don’t get to quit! You don’t get to stop!”
“Eli!” Valentina shouts, rushing forward.
“Keep trying!” Eli roars, his voice breaking apart, veins bulging in his neck. “You don’t fucking stop until she wakes up!”
He shakes the doctor hard enough that the man stumbles.
Valentina throws her arms around her husband, yanking him back. “Eli, please stop. Stop. Stop. ”
He resists. He bucks against her. But she holds him. Tight.
His chest rises and falls like a caged animal’s. His knees buckle. He lets her guide him to the wall and slides down it, breathing like he’s drowning in open air.
I don’t move. I can’t.
I just stare at Ma’s bed. At her still body. At the bloodstained gown. The white sheets.
Her chest isn’t rising anymore. There’s no warmth left in the room. None.
Behind me, I hear Mara. At first, a breath. Then a sound. A scream. Raw. Guttural. It tears out of her like something was wrenched from her soul and the echo is all that’s left.
She falls, but Matteo’s there. His arms wrap around her, and she’s clawing at his jacket, sobbing, gasping, hitting him, holding him.
I hear her, but I don’t move. I don’t blink. I just…exist.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was going to be okay. She was going to wake up and complain about the food and kiss us all on the forehead and tell us we were dramatic. She was going to be fine.
How the fuck did we get here? How the fuck did we lose her?
I don’t feel the tears at first. They come slow, hot. Drop down my cheek.
One. Then another.
I take a step forward. Then another. I reach her bedside and sit beside her. Her hand is cold. I take it anyway. Her nails are still painted—soft pink, chipped at the corners.
She’d been fussing with Mara over dresses earlier that day. Arguing over whether the napkins matched the table runners. She had told me to take more chicken. That I looked too thin. She’d smiled. She was happy.
And now she’s gone.
I feel Matteo’s hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
Eli hasn’t spoken either. He’s curled against the wall, Valentina rocking him like he’s a child.
Mara’s still sobbing, her cries growing hoarse.
The machines are quiet now. No beeping. No heartbeat. No sound.
Just the absence of her.
The rain feels like it’s trying to wash her away.
We step out of the hospital, and the world looks like it’s mourning too—gray skies, neon smears on wet pavement, the heavy hush of a city trying to pretend it doesn’t hear our grief.
My shirt sticks to my skin. Cold water drips down the back of my neck.
No one talks.
Matteo walks ahead; phone pressed to his ear again. He’s muttering low, fast, tight. Something about firewalls. About breach points. About how it shouldn’t have happened.
Valentina wraps her coat tighter around her, one arm hooked through Eli’s. He hasn’t said a word since Ma’s last breath.
I trail behind.
The city doesn’t feel real. It’s blurred at the edges—like I’m looking at it through glass. Or grief. Or guilt.
Then Eli stops walking. We all do. He turns around slowly, the streetlight casting sharp angles over his face. His jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.
“You brought this into our house.”
I blink. “What?”
He steps forward, rain streaking down his face like sweat. “You invited this. You made space for her. You let her in.”
“She didn’t do this,” I lie.
“You think I’m fucking blind?” he snaps.
“The moment she showed up, things started falling apart. Dead bodies piling up in my city. I let that go on for far too fucking long, and then you decide to play hide and seek with that crazy bitch instead of telling us you fucking found her. You chose her over the family— our family—and now look.”
My fists clench. “You think this is her fault?”
“I know it is.”
I take a step closer. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know our Ma is dead ,” he spits. “Because you brought a fucking target to our doorstep.”
Valentina tries to tug at his arm. “Eli, don’t…”
But he’s not listening. “She was having dinner. She was laughing. And now she’s in a goddamn body bag.”
“You think I wanted this?” My voice cracks. “You think I knew this was going to happen?”
“You think that matters?!” he roars.
The world snaps. I throw the first punch. His head jerks to the side, his lip splitting open.
He barely blinks. Then he swings back. His fist connects with my jaw, and my head whips to the side. The sting brings everything into focus.
We don’t hold back. We brawl like boys who were raised in blood. Like sons of a man who taught us pain before patience.
Fists land. Rain splashes up from the pavement with every step, every hit. Eli grabs my collar and drives me backward against a light pole. My ribs scream. I slam my elbow into his shoulder and twist.
We fall. We’re on the ground, fists swinging, grunting, snarling like animals.
“Enough!” Matteo’s voice cuts through the storm. He grabs me around the chest and hauls me back. “Lucio, stop .”
Valentina pulls Eli away. He struggles against her grip, bleeding, breathless, furious.
“You’re choosing her over us,” he gasps, pointing at me like he doesn’t recognize me anymore. “Over Mara. Over Ma .”
“I’m not choosing?—”
“You already did .”
Silence stretches. The rain doesn’t stop. Neither of us breathes right.
Then Eli straightens and shrugs Valentina off.
“Give her up. Or you’re fucking dead to me.” His voice is quiet, but I’ve never heard anything colder.
I stare at him. His eyes don’t blink. Don’t soften.
“Do you understand me?” he growls. “Dead.”
He turns and walks away. Valentina lingers just a moment longer, her face crumpled. She looks at me like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She follows her husband into the rain.
Matteo lets go of my jacket slowly. We stand there. Just me and him and the city.
And the hole Ma left behind.