Chapter 50: It's my turn

The call came during the seventh hole.

I was mid-swing, the club arcing through the air, when my phone erupted with Max’s ringtone—the one reserved for emergencies. Morena shot me a look of irritation, but I was already reaching for the device, my pulse quickening.

“Max, this better be good.”

“She’s been shot.” His voice was ragged, barely recognizable. “The café near the academy. Vitale’s men. She Christ, Alessandro, there’s so much blood. ”

The golf club slipped from my fingers, thudding onto the pristine grass.

“Bianca?” My voice cracked.

“She covered Danilo. Took three bullets. They’re working on her now, but—” A choked sound. “The baby…”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. My body moved before thought could catch up, sprinting toward the parking lot. Morena and the security detail scrambled behind me, but they were shadows. All I could hear was Max’s voice, all I could see was Bianca falling, bleeding, protecting my brother.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of red lights and snarled traffic. Every second stretched into eternity, every delay a knife twisting deeper. My hands clenched the wheel until my knuckles burned, and still I pressed harder, willing the car to fly.

When I burst through the emergency room doors, chaos swallowed me whole. Max stood against the wall, his shirt soaked in blood,her blood. Danilo sat hunched in a plastic chair, trembling, his face buried in his hands.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“Surgery.” Max straightened, his eyes hollow. “They’ve been in there for forty minutes. The doctor said . ”

I didn’t let him finish. Rage surged through me, hot and blinding. I grabbed Danilo by the shirt, hauling him to his feet, slamming him against the wall so hard the sound echoed.

“You did this,” I snarled. “I told you to stay away from her, I told you . ”

“Alessandro, stop!” Max tried to wedge himself between us, but I shoved forward.

“She’s dying because of you!” My vision was red, my hands tightening on my brother’s collar. “My wife, my child, because you can’t stop being a goddamn disaster—”

“I said STOP!”

Max’s roar cut through the haze. He pulled me back with a force I hadn’t felt from him in years, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Look at him,” Max commanded. “Actually look at your brother.”

I did. And what I saw made something inside me crack.

Danilo wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t defending himself. He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, staring at me with absolute terror. Not respect. Not defiance. Pure, primal fear.

“She saved my life,” he whispered. “I don’t understand why. I’m nothing. I’m useless. You’re right, I ruin everything, I—” His voice broke. “She threw herself over me. She didn’t even hesitate. And I—I can’t—”

He slid down the wall, collapsing into sobs that shook his entire frame.

I stood there, fists clenched, the world tilting beneath me.

“He’s afraid of you,” Max said quietly. “He’s been afraid of you his whole life. So afraid of disappointing you that he self-destructs before you can reject him. So afraid of your judgment that he can’t function when you’re near.”

“That’s not—”

“It is.” Max’s voice softened, heavy with sorrow. “I’ve watched it for years. He worships you, Alessandro. And he’s convinced he’ll never be worthy of you. So he acts out, hoping you’ll finally cut him loose and end the suspense of waiting to be abandoned.”

I looked at my brother—really looked—and saw the truth. Saw the boy who’d grown up in our father’s shadow, who’d fought for scraps of attention, who’d spent his life convinced he would never measure up.

“Dio mio,” I breathed. “What have I done?”

I sank down beside him, my back against the wall, all the fight draining out of me. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then I did something I hadn’t done since we were children: I pulled him against me, holding him while he cried.

“I’m sorry,” he kept saying. “I’m so sorry. If she dies—”

“She won’t.” My voice was fierce, desperate. “She’s stubborn as hell and twice as strong. She’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine.”

I had to believe it. The alternative was unthinkable.

The surgery dragged on for three hours. When the doctor finally emerged, scrubs stained with blood, I met him halfway across the waiting room.

“The bullets missed all major organs,” he said, and my knees nearly gave out. “She lost a lot of blood, but she’s stable. The baby—” He paused. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. We’ll monitor closely, but I’m cautiously optimistic.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s in recovery. Give us another hour.”

When they finally let me in, I barely recognized her. Bianca looked impossibly small, impossibly pale, tubes and wires tethering her to machines that beeped steadily in the quiet room.

I pulled a chair to her bedside, taking her hand carefully, mindful of the IV.

“You’re insane,” I whispered to her unconscious form. “Completely, certifiably insane. Throwing yourself in front of bullets like some action hero.” My voice cracked. “You don’t get to leave me, amore. You don’t get to be the hero and die. That’s not how this works.”

Her fingers twitched. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, heavy with drugs.

“Danilo?” she mumbled.

“He’s fine. Thanks to you.” I brought her hand to my lips. “You saved him.”

“Good.” She tried to smile. “Don’t…be mad.”

“I’m furious. You’re grounded for life.” I laughed and cried at the same time. “But we’ll discuss your punishment after you heal.”

“The baby?”

“Safe. We’re all safe, thanks to you.”

She closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her temple. “Love you…both of you…”

“I love you too. So much it terrifies me.”

The door opened quietly behind me. Danilo stood there, shattered and uncertain.

“Can I ?” he started.

I stood, gesturing to the chair. “Tell her thank you. Tell her she’s the bravest, most foolish woman in the world.”

I left them there my brother and the woman who’d been willing to die for him and went to find Max.

Vitale had made his move.

Now it was my turn.