The room immediately fell silent.
Then heavy footsteps moved quickly toward my bed.
“Loretta.”
Rafael’s voice.
The sound of it immediately tightened something inside my chest.
He sounded exhausted.
As though he hadn’t slept in days.
“I am glad you’re awake.”
A pause followed. “I went too far.”
The admission sounded reluctant, as though the words had been dragged out of him against his will.
“But you touched a wound you knew nothing about.”
I remained silent.
The anger inside me was too large for words.
I had thought I understood Rafael.
I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was ruthless.
He was a mafia boss. Violence lived in his world as naturally as breathing.
But somewhere along the way, I had begun to believe there was a line he would never cross with me.
The snow had proved otherwise.
“How long was I unconscious?” I asked quietly, directing the question to anyone but him.
The room fell silent.
“Three days.” The doctor’s voice was gentle.
Three days.
The words hit me harder than any physical pain.
Three whole days.
Three days trapped in darkness while my body fought to survive.
Three days that could have easily become forever.
My fingers tightened around the hospital blanket.
I could have died.
The realization settled heavily in my chest.
“Leave.”
