Page 99 of Cavaliere

I think a small part of me will always regret not being able to draw his death out and torture him in the way I felt he deserved.

“We got it,” Gio says softly as he looks at Wren. “Go make sure she’s okay. Enzo needs the practice anyway.”

“Keep us updated,” Alessio says as he starts unfolding a body bag.

“I will.”

The world is going to burn if Wren doesn’t come back from this.

Chapter

Fifty-Five

WREN

Asteady beeping noise is slowly getting louder and louder, breaking through my foggy brain.

I jolt when I feel a cold hand lightly grab mine. “It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. This machine was just letting me know your bag is empty,” a soft female voice says. “I’m going to go tell the doctor you’re starting to wake up.”

I blink a few times as my eyes continue to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting. The heaviness on my bottom has me slowly bringing my gaze downward. A black cast covers my foot up to my mid-calf. My arm is in a sling. My whole entire body feels like a truck ran over it, backed up, only to run over it again. I never thought it would hurt to move a finger, but here we are.

I let out a long sigh.

I don’t need a mirror to tell me that I’m a hot fucking mess.

My eyes move around the room until they land on the side with the large window. The side where the most uncomfortable chairs that convert into a bed for guests are. My heart breaks a little at seeing them empty.

I thought I remembered Matteo being there toward the end, but I was in so much pain that I knew I was borderline delirious. It was probably just a fever dream. Either way, I know a man with his connections would have been able to track me here if he was looking.

It hurts.

It fucking kills to know that he isn’t looking for me.

“Knock, Knock,” an older man in a white lab coat says, smiling as he enters the room.

“Wren Barlowe, you are quite the lucky girl.” He takes a pen out of his pocket and clicks the ballpoint down. “I’m Dr. Smith.”

I barely nod my head, giving him the smallest smile that my broken heart can muster. “Hi.” My voice sounds like my throat has been rubbed with sandpaper. The nurse hands me a styrofoam cup with a straw that's filled with ice water. I take a few little sips, enjoying the way the ice-cold liquid smoothly coats my raw throat.

“Well, you have quite a few serious injuries. A broken ankle, broken collar bone, two broken ribs, and a bunch of cuts. Your cuts aren't deep enough to need stitches. They just bleed a lot because that’s what head wounds do. Same with the tongue. They’ll heal over time on their own.” He flips a page over in my chart before continuing. “You got lucky with your ribs. Yes, they’re broken, but they didn’t puncture anything, and there isn’t any internal bleeding. You’re going to be very sore for a while, but I’ll give you something to take the edge off.” He winks like that’s supposed to be a joke. “Everything else is going to take time. I’d like to see you back in six weeks to see if we can take your cast off.”

My brain is on information overload with everything he just threw at me, so I just nod along. I hate hospitals. Everything is so bright and sterile that it gives me anxiety. Being admitted makes me feel like I’m trapped in a room and not allowed to ever leave—like my own personal prison.

I want Matteo.

“Am I free to go?”

“I’d like to keep you overnight just as a precaution, but if everything goes like I think it will go, I’ll tell the nurses to discharge you in the morning.”

“Thank you.” I’m slightly relieved that I’m not being discharged. Even though I hate being here, I don’t know where I’m going to go.

“Are you in pain at all? It’s time for your next dose of pain meds if you want them,” the nurse says as the doctor leaves.

“Yeah, I’m pretty uncomfortable.” I’ll never admit out loud that I want them to dull the ache in my heart and not my body.

“You’ll feel it soon. This is the good stuff.” She winks as she tucks in the blanket around me.

It isn’t long before my eyelids feel heavy, and everything turns black.