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Shit.That was faster than I thought. I need more time to prepare.
But time is running out… and not just for answering this call.
My heart plummets into my stomach, a dark cloud suddenly hanging over me. A feeling of dread and restlessness has me on edge within milliseconds.
What’s going on?
I hastily swipe to answer. “Hello?” I say, a little out of breath.
“Ella, it’s Mateo.” His voice sounds strained, and tension immediately coils within me.
Mateo?
Why is he ringing me from Tiero’s phone? Something is wrong.
Something is terribly wrong,
“What happened? Is Tiero okay?” I ask without a greeting.
There’s a long pause, the silence deafening.
My heart is hammering in my ears and the spikes on the heart monitor start to dance.
“Mateo?” I whisper.
“Ella. Tiero is in a bad way. He might not have long.”
My throat tightens. I can’t breathe.
No!
Clutching my chest, I will myself to calm down a notch… or ten.
“What happened?” I choke out.
“An attack. He got shot in the chest. Unless we can find a lung donor within the next seventy-two hours, he’s not going to make it.”
Anger surges within me. “Who did this? Molinaro? I thought he was dealt with?”
“Molinaro is dead. Has been for weeks. We have no clue who’s responsible, but we will find out.” The conviction in Mateo’s voice is scary. I’ve never heard him like that… so hard and unyielding. The few times I’ve met him, he was always jovial or concerned for his brother.
“Will you come? I’ll send the jet for you.” His tone is softer now, almost bleeding.
Without thinking, I agree. “Yes, of course. But I’ll get there faster if I jump on a commercial flight.”
“Tiero wouldn’t like that.”
“Tough luck. When have I ever listened to him?” That makes Mateo chuckle.
“Ella, it’s not safe. I can’t risk something happening to you. Tiero would have my balls. At least on our plane I know you’ll be safe.”
“Fine, but there’s no reason to worry about me. Aiden will come with me. He can protect me.” At least I think he’ll agree to come along. He wouldn’t let me go alone, would he?
He might not let you go at all, the little, annoying voice insides me chides in.Remember? No exertion or excitement… strict bed rest?
I ignore it.
“What are his chances of a transplant?” I ask, whispering the question.
