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I didn’t give a shit about his father. But enough of my rational mind understood the warning in Max’s tone: I had to allow Elio Amato to pass his judgment, or we would no longer be allies. I remained tense, ready to close the distance as soon as Max released me.
“You shouldn’t have come back here, Ciro.” Elio’s voice was ice cold on his brother’s name. “I told you what would happen if you did.”
Ciro’s hands were up, showing that he was ready to surrender. But he bristled at his brother’s tone. “I had no choice,” he spat, jerking his chin at Marco. “This faggot—”
A single shot cracked through the room, and the bullet hit Ciro square in the chest. He collapsed, unmoving. For good measure, Elio strode over to his body and emptied two more rounds into his brain; clean and professional. He looked up at his son and nodded.
Max finally released me, and I raced toward Ashlyn. I loved her and Marco equally, but he would rather die than have his safety put above hers. He was bleeding, but I’d been able to see that he was breathing. Ashlyn was so still…
I dropped to my knees beside the couch, checking her pulse. It was steady beneath my fingers, but she didn’t stir at my touch. “Ashlyn.” I lifted her into my arms, and she was boneless against me. “Angel, wake up.”
“Drugged,” Marco growled just before he dropped to the tiled floor beside me.
“Jesus, Marco!” Blood pooled beneath him, sluggishly trickling from a gory hole in his thigh. A tourniquet had been tied above the wound, slowing the blood loss but possibly causing catastrophic damage.
“I’m fine,” he grunted, pushing up onto his knees as he reached for Ashlyn. His palm slipped on the bloody tile, and he went back down.
I ran my hands all over Ashlyn’s body, checking for injuries. She seemed unharmed. Marco, on the other hand…
“Stay down, dumbass.” I placed a hand on his shoulder, pinning him in place with little effort. I looked up, searching for Max. “We need a doctor.”
He nodded. “We’ll take him to a hospital. They will make accommodations and won’t ask any questions.” Obviously, the Amato name carried a lot of weight.
I turned my attention back to my family. Some of the color had returned to Ashlyn’s cheeks, and she appeared to be sleeping peacefully in my arms. Marco was a goddamn mess.
“Don’t die.” I joked to lighten my very real fear that his life was in serious danger. He’d been shot, and I had no idea how long he’d been bleeding.
“Working on it,” he rumbled, easing under my hand.
My family would be fine. Marco would be fine. He had to be.
Chapter Fourteen
Marco
“Marco!” Ashlyn cried out my name as she burst into my hospital room. “They wouldn’t let me see you! I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
Joseph followed her inside, a wide smile illuminating his tired features when he saw that I was okay.
“Don’t cry, princess.” I pulled Ashlyn close, tugging her to me so I could wrap her in a hug.
“You’re hurt!” she protested, trying to push me back down so I was lying flat on my back.
Not happening. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”
Joseph made a derisive snort. I shot him a glare. His smile widened to a grin. I’d never seen him so happy to have me glaring at him.
Shit, he must’ve been really worried. “I’m okay,” I promised, meeting his clear blue eyes with a significant stare. “Seriously, I’m okay. The doctor patched me up, and I’ll be walking around in no time. Bullet went straight through. Didn’t hit anything vital.”
“You were shot,” Ashlyn whimpered, holding me tighter. “I was so scared for you.”
My stomach knotted. I’d never wanted her to be afraid again, but I’d created a situation where she’d been scared for her life. Suddenly, I was grateful that Domenico had drugged her. She wouldn’t have nightmares about what’d happened with Ciro.
I brushed a kiss over her forehead and rubbed my hands up and down her back, letting her cry out the last of her residual fear. I hated every second of her pain, but allowing her to release it through cathartic tears made us both feel better.
When she finally stopped sniffling, she pulled back far enough to look into my face. Her sapphire eyes traced each one of my features, checking for additional injuries. My split lip and bruised jaw probably looked pretty bad by now, but they were superficial.
“Don’t worry,” I teased. “I’ll be just as ugly as before once I heal up.”
She gasped, her eyes flashing. “You’re not ugly! Don’t stay that. You’re beautiful.”
I chuckled. “No, Joseph is beautiful. But I was just trying to get a rise out of you, babygirl. No need to look so offended on my behalf.”
She pouted. “Don’t do that. I can’t be annoyed with you when you’re hurt.”
