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“Shh,” Luca whispered as he held me tighter. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not,” I muttered between crying fits. “Not if he dies.”
He’s just sleeping, I told myself.He will wake up.
Luca stood behind me as I swept the dark strands off Marcello’s clammy forehead. Even in sleep, he was beautiful. He looked so peaceful. As I touched his skin, I felt a flicker of heat spread down my arm. That connection was always present. The same energy I’d felt every time he touched me.
I traced the length of his jaw with my fingers. Bent over the side of the bed, I whispered in his ear, “Come back to me, Marcello. I need you.”
I checked each dip in the heart monitor, studying it like a hawk. Gripping the railing of the bed, I leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Wake up, Marcello. Your queen demands it.”
“Let him sleep,” Luca said over my shoulder.
“Shut up, Luca,” I snapped, anger surging through me as I spun around to face him. “Stop telling me what to do.”
My heart thudded as his teeth clenched, and I realized I was out of line. Marcello was his brother, not mine.
“I’m sorry.” I closed the distance between us and brushed my fingers against his. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just…” My words died off in my throat as I glanced over at Marcello.
“I know,” Luca muttered, his eyes downcast.
I slid my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. Our eyes met for a moment. He looked so sad and beautiful that I wanted to kiss his lips. Luca held me with a firm grip, like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my head foggy from the drugs. “I can’t lose him.”
He tensed at my words. “I know. Try to relax, okay?”
“He has to live.”
“He will, baby.” Luca bent down and kissed my forehead. “Stop worrying about Marcello. He’s a fighter.”
Someone cleared their throat behind us.
Until then, I hadn’t noticed we were still in the ballroom. My eyes traveled around the room and landed on Arlo and Pops. Damian and Bastian sat at a dining table beside a few of the Knights who were there before I’d passed out. They lounged on elaborate dining chairs with the Salvatore snake crest emblazoned into the wood.
Drinks in hand, they studied me with curiosity. Arlo sat beside Pops in a new suit. My grandfather looked as if he’d aged ten years within days. Sonny and Drake wore suits from the day before. Dark circles ringed their eyes, their hair messy and without its usual polish.
The golden boy of Devil’s Creek always looked like a billion bucks. But seeing Sonny so disheveled and heartbroken made my stomach hurt. This had to be killing him. He’d been Marcello’s best friend since they were in diapers. When Marcello couldn’t count on Luca, he had Sonny. They had each other.
Arlo’s gaze drifted to Luca’s hand on my hip. His intense stare unsettled me. Luca often looked at me the same way. Like he was staring through me, digging deep into my soul, attempting to extract my secrets.
Pops ran a hand through his white hair, forcing a smile as our eyes met. The stress of Marcello’s operation must have taken a toll on him. At his age, he hadn’t operated on anyone in years, and it showed.
I slipped out of Luca’s grasp and walked over to the table. Pops slid out of his chair and stood to his full height.
I launched myself into his arms. “You saved him,” I said as he hugged me. “Thank you.”
“This is a tough situation.” He patted my back with his palm. “Marcello has to wake up on his own.”
I peeked up at him. “Do you think he will?”
“I’m optimistic.” He held me at an arm's length, a severe expression crossing his withered face. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility of him never waking up.”
“Pops, I can’t do this if he doesn’t…” I wouldn’t even allow myself to finish the thought.
It was all four of us or none of us. That much I had made clear to each of the guys now that we were in this together. And if Marcello didn’t live, I was finding my brother and getting as far away from Devil’s Creek as possible.
Before Pops could respond, I heard a familiar voice whisper my name, and my pulse raced.
