Page 88 of A New Days Don

I’m fine.

“It’s only a scratch…” I look back down at the wound, and my vision narrows. Oh… That’s a lot of blood.

“Don’t pass out,” Massimo growls, his hand pressing to my shoulder. Sharp, blinding pain radiates from the wound, and I can’t contain the scream of pain that explodes out of me.

“I want this street locked down. Find the motherfucker!” Massimo shouts to two men who look vaguely familiar. I think they are Massimo’s friends… err, co-workers? It doesn’t matter. My mind is too fuzzy to think.

They have formed a blockade between us and the street, their eyes analyzing. Two other familiar men outside take off running with guns drawn.

Nausea churns, and my knees buckle.

“Mas… Please don’t let me hit my head.” I beg, my eyes meeting his, enjoying the decadent coffee-colour. His mouth moves, but he sounds like he’s underwater. This is going to really suck.

Black dots cover my vision… then nothing.

Chapter 36

Massimo

The first time my father threw me in with his men, forcing me to chase after a group of drug runners. I was only thirteen years old. It was the day after my birthday, and my father decided it was time I started hardening into a man who could lead the Vegas Mafia. I came back in tears, my heart thundering so hard in my chest that I passed out on the way home, then proceeded to vomit all over our front lawn at the memory of the three men tortured into giving us information.

It was a bloody mess. The enforcer with us liked to feel his victims slowly break under his bare hands, both figuratively and literally.

Even though my father was an empathetic man who truly did love me and treated me the best he could, he couldn’t save me from my fate. I was born into the mafia, and regardless of whether I chose to run from it or embrace it, I would always be target number one for those who wanted to retaliate against my father. He saw to it that nobody would ever target me, not because he told them not to—nobody in the mafia gives a rat’s ass about the wills of others—but because he ensured that if they did, they would be the ones regretting it, not me and not him.

That first year of training and conditioning was brutal. But by the end of it, I was numb to watching people endure massive amounts of pain and torture and their eventual death. I could throw my moral compass into a mental box and turn into a monster that made my father proud and his enemies fear both him and I. Torture became laughable because you can’t torture a man who is the shell of a human, his soul and humanity buried away. Fear, desperation, and emotion were stripped from me and with that came tremendous peace. Numbness, but peaceful nonetheless, because if you never feel highs or lows, there is nothing that can disturb the stillness within.

But then I met her.

In that stupid house by herself.

Lost to panic as she watched two drugged-up nobodies fuck on a dirty cushion. And everything I had carefully put away. Everything my father worked so hard to make sure I was never blinded by slowly came leaking out for her.

“Mas…” Her voice trembles as I brace her against me, desperately pressing into her shoulder wound, “Please don’t let me hit my head.”

Her cerulean eyes dull into a dusty slate blue.

A few months ago, I kept my weakness to myself. I couldn’t trust her not to run when she heard the extent to which she had slithered her way into my heart. I know she thought it was someone or something so terrifying that they would make a lesser man’s heart stop in its tracks at the very sight. But I have never been more terrified than when holding the fragility of life in my hands with the sole purpose of keeping her alive and well. The only life I have ever cared about. Her face pales in my arms, and the extent to which she has me in her grasp becomes all the more real.

Ice cold panic.

Fear as I have never felt before, so frigid it burns through my veins, stealing my breath from me.

“Mila, no, stay awake, baby. Keep your eyes on me, we are getting the car.” I tell her on only a shallow breath. There is nothing without Mila. Everything in me begins to seize, preventing me from finishing the sentence I want to say.

I love you.

Mila’s eyes roll back, and I brace her dead weight against me. My grip on her shoulder tightens. I can feel the blood thrumming against my hand. She’s still alive.

“Mila!” I gasp, red fills my vision, followed by a blur of desperation.

“Caleb has the car. Raphael and I are going to scout the area and check footage.” Ren tells me as I run for the door. Adriano opens the back of the SUV, and I slip in with Mila in my lap.

“Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart,” I tell her, even though she isn’t awake to register my words. My team takes care of what I can’t.

The desperation is like being bitten by a venomous snake. With each slow beat of my heart, my mind and body become a numb shell.

Snap the fuck out of it!