No one answers. Because no one knows. Because he was here, eating and drinking and smiling, and now he’s gone.
“Find him.” Lorenzo’s voice is quiet. That’s what makes it terrifying. “Every exit. Every vehicle. Every road out of this city.”
A pause.
“He doesn’t get to breathe until I say so.”
Soldiers move. Scatter. The room empties of everyone except family.
And Nonna Rosa.
I notice her for the first time. Standing at the threshold, rosary clutched between her fingers, tears streaming down her face. Her lips move in silent prayer.
The same woman who fed me in her kitchen this morning. Who called mecherand dawlin’ and told me the dough could take it. Who teased Maria about the Valentino boy.
She’s praying for him now. For all of us.
“Stretcher’s here.”
Two soldiers appear with a collapsible stretcher. Lorenzo moves forward, and so does Marco, abandoning the evidence on the table. They position themselves on either side of Dante.
“Careful.” Giada watches every movement. “Support his head. He hit it when he fell. And keep the IV line clear.”
They lift him. My husband. The man I love.
He looks small. Broken.
“Cassia.” Nico is beside me. When did he come back? His phone is away. His hand is on my elbow. “Come on. We’ll follow them to the medical wing.”
I can’t move. My legs won’t work.
“I never told him,” I hear myself say. “He doesn’t know. What if he dies and he never knows?”
“He knows.” Nico’s voice is steady. Certain. “The way he looks at you? The way he talks about you when you’re not in the room?” He squeezes my arm. “He knows, Cassia.”
I want to believe him. I want it so bad my chest splits open with it.
They carry him out of the dining room. Through the hallway. Past the study where he kissed me this morning. Past the stairs we climbed together last night.
I follow. One foot in front of the other. Nico’s hand on my arm. The only thing keeping me upright.
The medical wing is on the east side of the compound. I’ve never been inside it. Never needed to.
The doors swing open. Bright lights. Gleaming equipment. A room that looks like a real hospital, because of course it does, because this is what the Santoros built. A world unto themselves.
They transfer him to a bed. A real bed with rails and monitors and machines that start beeping the moment they connect him.
Giada is barking orders. Scrubbing her hands. Pulling on gloves.
“Everyone out except medical staff.” Her voice leaves no room for argument. “Renzo, I need the toxicology samples delivered the moment Dr.Biagi arrives. Marco, make sure that evidence is secured. Nico.” She pauses. Looks at me. “Keep her close. She shouldn’t be alone.”
She shouldn’t be alone.
Lorenzo doesn’t leave. He stations himself in the corner, arms crossed, face unreadable. Watching. Waiting. I don’t think anyone has the power to make him go.
Marco disappears to secure the evidence. Nico guides me to a chair in the corner. I sink into it. My legs give out at last.
From here, I can see Dante. See the rise and fall of his chest. See Giada working, moving, fighting. See the monitors that track his heartbeat in jagged green lines across the screen.
