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“Uncle Connor isn’t as cool as our dad,” Cara said.
Which had Gabe raising a single brow.
Craig Donnelly, Sophie’s dad, had almost killed Gabe not that long ago—had put him in the hospital for a week.
There hadn’t been a lot of—how did Cara word it—“coolness” when Donnelly found out about Gabe and Sophie.
Why would Fee’s father feel any different?
And Matt paid the price. Took my bullet. And was fighting for his life because of me.
Because I fell in love with the daughter of an Irish mobster, and I wasn’t even smart enough to keep it a secret.
Cara kept talking, but I barely heard her over the roaring in my ears. The room seemed to spin around me.
I’d been so stupid, so blind. So focused on myself and fucking Fee, I hadn’t even been aware of what was going on.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder.
I blinked to find Gabe staring intently at me. “We’ll get all of this sorted. For now, you need to let them take care of these,” he said and pointed at my hands.
I managed a stiff nod, still dazed.
He sighed, then marched me into the ER and got them to clean up my hands and bandage them up.
Back in the waiting room, hours passed, each minute stretching into an agonizing eternity. Matteo remained in surgery, his fate uncertain, while information about Fiona’s whereabouts remained elusive.
She was still on the road. I couldn’t get in contact with her if she was still traveling.
Right.
My heart thumped dully in my chest in sync with every passing second, the weight of my guilt pressing down on me like a crushing burden.
When the surgeon finally appeared, wiping the sweat from his brow, I could hardly force a breath through my tight throat. “Mr. Salvini is out of surgery. He’s stable for now, but he’s in an induced coma,” he informed us, his voice weary. “We had to remove his spleen.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Doc,” I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. Relief flooded through me, while fear continued to gnaw at the edges of my mind.
All my fault.
“Can I see him?” I asked hesitantly, trying to hide the overwhelming need to be by Matteo’s side.
“Later,” the doctor replied. “He’s still in critical condition, and we’re keeping him under close observation for the time being.”
I nodded and turned away before the others could see the tears threatening to choke me.
Not a big bad motherfucker now.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Vincenzo Salvini, Matt’s oldest brother.
The moment he answered, I filled him in on everything we knew from the attack to Matt being out of surgery and in a stable condition.
His anger mirrored my own, as did the worry in his voice.
“Keep me updated, constantly,” Vince said before hanging up.
If Matteo died because of me, I didn’t know how and if I could live with myself. And without Fee by my side, the world seemed colder, darker.
Was she safe?
