Page 187 of Lethal Obsession

“Coma,” Benny supplies.

“Si. This.” She gives him a rather stern look. “He sleep like this for many hours. This night, the day . . .” She rolls her hand to indicate the future. “Not wake up soon.” She glances at Papa, then, when he folds his arms and eyes her grimly, rolls her eyes in a way that I completely sympathize with.

“You can see through—” She indicates the glass window over reception. “But not visit,” she says sternly to Papa. “Only see. Understand?”

He looks at Benny, who nods. “I understand,” he says quietly.

“Bene.” Giving Papa a final resentful look, the nurse gestures for Benny and me to follow her into an anteroom. “You must wear these.” She hands us sterile suits.

We don them, then I slip my arm through Benny’s, and the nurse ushers us through into a sterile corridor with highly polished floors, silent but for the hum of machines and softly spoken conversation of staff. We pass opaque glass-walled rooms.

So many, I think, my heart juddering. I wonder how many other people are sitting behind those sliding glass doors, terrified it is the last time they’ll see their loved one.

“Here.” The nurse stops outside one room. “Not inside,” she warns Benny. “Just to see.” She presses a button on the wall, and the opaque glass clears, allowing us to see in.

He takes one look at the long figure beneath the white hospital blanket and makes a noise like a wounded animal in a trap. I hold him tightly, struggling not to cry, and we stare through the glass.

Only the familiarity of Lars’s lean frame betrays who is on the bed.

The upper part of his head is entirely bandaged, covering his eyes and most of his face, down to where a tube snakes out of his mouth. He is utterly unrecognizable—and utterly still.

“Oh, God.” Benny leans against the glass, his eyes wide and stark, fingertips white as he presses against it. He turns to the nurse. “Please,” he says brokenly. “Please let me sit with him.”

The nurse shakes her head, her expression sympathetic as she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tomorrow, you come back, and maybe then you can see him. Tonight, no.” She shakes her head. “Tonight, go. Eat. Sleep.”

“Who will sit with him?” he whispers, pressing futilely against the glass. “Who will be there if he wakes up?”

“He no wake up,” the nurse says quietly. “Not yet.”

“The surgeon said he was in an induced coma.” I use the same soft tone everyone seems to here. “That means he can’t wake up, Benny, not until they decide to wake him.” Maybe not even then.

But he doesn’t react to my words, just stares at the long figure on the bed, his entire body stiff.

“We can’t stay,” I say finally, when the nurse starts to look uncomfortable.

“No.” He grips the glass, shaking his head.

Tears prick my eyes. “We have to leave, Benny. And we have to trust them.”

Eventually I manage to gently pry him away from the glass, and it slowly fades back to opacity. I guide him down the corridor, Benny stumbling like a sleepwalker, until we get to the waiting room, at which point he pushes past me and only just makes it to the bathroom before I hear him retching.

“So I won’t ask how that went,” Papa says, frowning after him. His eyes swivel to me, then soften when he sees my face. “Christ, baby.” He pulls me into a hug that I have no inclination to fight. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my hair. “None of this is okay.”

“Who will they call?” I step away from Papa, wiping my eyes. “If he wakes up?”

“Me.” Jack smiles at the nurse, who blushes. “They’ll call me, and if they can’t get ahold of me, they’ll call Luca.”

I go into the bathroom to wash my face. When I emerge, Papa is gone, and a white-faced Benny is swaying on his feet where he stands. Dimitry, coming through the doors, takes one look at him and says, “You need a drink.”

“Dimitry’s right,” Jack says gently to Benny. “You need to rest. I’ll take you back to Luca’s villa.”

Benny looks blearily around. “Not yet. I can’t—I don’t want to meet anyone just now.”

“I’ve got you.” Jack puts an arm around Benny’s shoulders. “There’s a bar a block from here. We can take some time there first.”

“No,” Dimitry says, when I move to accompany them. “You need to see your brother, Ofelia. And don’t bother arguing.” He gives me a warning look. “Roman and Mickey are waiting downstairs in the car. I promised Roman that we’d be right behind them.”

I glare at him. “I thought you didn’t take orders from my father these days.”