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When I glance up, the drone still hovers in the same place. I scan the patio, then cry out when I find all four of the men who comprised our security detail, including Antonio, sprawled out on the floor. Blood pools under one of the men. The rest of them are so silent, surely, they must be dead. Are they dead? Seb. Oh, my god, Seb. I touch his face, which already feels cool to the touch. And he’s pale, so pale. I hear the whirring sound, and once more, throw myself over him.
“No," I yell at the drone. "No, I won’t let you kill him! You hear me? Not unless you kill me first, motherfucker!"
The drone hovers there silently, then swings away and out of sight.
"Seb! Jesus! Help me, God. Please, please, please don’t let him... Don’t let him die.” I sit back, tear off my jacket, bundle it, and press it against the wound.Help. I need help.
I glance around, spot my handbag, and leap toward it. I pull out my phone, but it’s dead. "Fuuuck!" I yell. Why, oh, why did I forget to charge it? I throw it aside, then turn back to Seb. I pat around in his jacket pockets. Don’t find anything.No, no, no.My stomach caves in on itself and bile bubbles up. I swallow it down, then reach for his pants pocket.There.My fingers brush the phone.
I pull it out, but it’s locked. Of course it’s locked. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I yell as I rise to my feet. My knees almost give way before I steady myself. I stumble over to Antonio, who’s collapsed on his front, check his jacket pockets, and find his phone. Locked.No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Please, please, God, don't let anything happen to my Seb. Please let him survive this, and I’ll confess everything to him. Everything. I promise.I check the pockets of the next guy; no phone. And the next; his phone is locked, too. I approach the fourth guy, who’s body is twisted in such a way that I can’t help but think he must be dead. The blood pooling under him has spread out even more. I don’t have a choice. I step into his blood, then reach for his jacket pocket.Bingo.I pull out his phone.Please, please, please let this be unlocked. Please.I snap open the old-fashioned device… Is it a burner phone? It’s unlocked.Thank you, God!I reach for the keypad, and dial the only number I know from memory.
Two hours later, I pace the floor of the waiting room in the hospital in Palermo. I called the number of the flower shop, hoping and praying someone would pick up. The first time, the call went to voice mail. Damn it, I wished I’d memorized Theresa’s mobile number, or knew the number of one of the Sovrano brothers, but I didn’t. I tried the number of the shop again, and this time, Theresa picked up. I almost burst into tears as I explained what’d happened. To Theresa’s credit, she snapped to attention right away. She reassured me that I’d done the right thing by calling her instead of directly calling the ambulance or the police—which, to be honest, hadn’t even occurred to me. I may have only just married into a Mafia family, but being married to Fabio had instilled a healthy distrust for the cops, and common sense had told me that calling an ambulance service directly might not be wise, given the nature of the incident which had taken place. Apparently, even though I'd been dazed, some part of me had been thinking clearly.
She took the details of my location and made me stay on the line while she called Axel and told him what had transpired.
She came back on the call with me and told me someone would be with me very soon.
Within seconds, Aurora called her on her cell phone, and she put Aurora on speaker.
Aurora assured me she was already en route with Christian and some of the other Sovrano brothers in an air-ambulance. How they got hold of an air-ambulance so quickly, I have no idea. Maybe they have one on standby, given the nature of the business the brothers are in? Either way, Aurora walked me through some basic first-aid steps on how to keep the pressure on the wound to stem the flow of blood, while checking for his pulse—which had been sluggish. She then cut the call, with the promise they’d be there very soon.
Theresa stayed on the line with me, and fifteen minutes later, I heard the whoomp-whoomp-whoomp of an approaching chopper.
Within five minutes of that, Aurora and Christian burst onto the patio, along with two paramedics.
Aurora and the paramedics took over. I watched numbly as they placed the oxygen mask over Seb, cut through his jacket, and kept the pressure steady as they loaded him onto a stretcher.
Then I heard the sound of another chopper and realized one of them had the foresight to call for reinforcements.
Massimo and Luca arrived with four more paramedics. Together, they worked in what seemed to be a well-rehearsed operation of patching up and loading the other guys onto the second chopper.
Within fifteen minutes, we were all loaded up, and both choppers were on their way to the hospital.
Less than an hour after I called Theresa, Seb and the other men were in surgery. By some miracle, all four of the guys, while injured, were breathing. As for Seb, the doctor had yet to tell us the extent of his injury.
Theresa stayed with me. Thankfully, she’d hired a temporary employee to take my place while I was away.
Now, I watch as she talks to Axel in one corner of the room.
Massimo and Luca huddle together with Adrian and Christian in another corner.
Aurora went into the operating theatre to assist the doctors.
As for me? I can’t get rid of the sight of Seb’s face—the surprise in his eyes, followed by the realization that he’d been hit—before he lost consciousness.
I sink down into a seat from where I have a direct view of the door, and fold my fingers together. I don’t think I’ve prayed this much in a long time… Not since I went into labor with Avery, and then I’d been in too much pain to remember to pray after a while. No, this time I am in possession of all of my faculties. I can’t take my gaze off of the doorway.
Someone presses a cup of something hot into my hands. The scent of coffee reaches me, and my stomach churns. I shake my head, and Theresa sits down next to me. "Have a sip," she urges me.
I take a sip, and my stomach protests. "No more." I place the cup on the table next to me.
"Drink some water, at least." She uncaps a bottle and hands it to me. I sip from it and my stomach, thankfully, doesn’t react to that. I take a few more sips, then hand it back to her.
"I got you some clothes." She hands me a cloth bag.
"Clothes?"
"You need to change, Elsa." She jerks her chin toward me. I glance down to find my blouse and skirt are stained with blood. His blood? My belly knots. Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes, and I wipe the back of my hand across my face.
