Chapter 120 FOR EVERY BREATH.
\~~~RAINA.
“W… what did you just say?”
My voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper. The phone nearly slipped from my hand, but I held it tight, as if it were burning me. No, it couldn't. No way.
He repeated, “The boss is down, ma'am. He has been rushed to the hospital.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Rushed to the hospital? Luciano, the man who seemed unbreakable?
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then a wail tore from my throat, raw and desperate.
My knees buckled, and I grabbed the edge of the couch to stay upright. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring everything.
Alessia was at my side in an instant, her arms wrapping around me. “Raina? What is wrong? What did he say?” Her voice was sharp with worry, her hands gripping my shoulders.
I gasped through the sobs, my chest heaving. “Gabriel said... he said Luciano was just rushed to the hospital.” The words felt wrong even as I said them, as they belonged to someone else's life.
Not ours. Not after everything, the divorce, the fights, and the way we'd torn each other apart. But hearing it now, it ripped open wounds I thought were starting to heal.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head as if I could make it untrue.
But the panic clawed at me, visions flashing of Luciano bleeding, alone, and fighting for his life because of that stupid war he'd started. Because of Volkov.
Because of me leaving and everything falling apart after.
“We have to go,” Alessia said firmly, grabbing her keys from the table. “Now.” She pulled me toward the door, her arm around my waist, in case I might collapse. I stumbled along, tears streaming down my face, my mind a whirlwind.
How?
Why now?
We rushed out of the house, the door slamming behind us. Alessia got behind the wheel of her car, the engine roaring to life as I fumbled with my seatbelt, still crying. She drove out of the driveway, tires screeching on the pavement. The city blurred past streetlights, buildings, and people who had no idea my world was crumbling.
I didn’t stop crying, not for a second.
My tears poured endlessly, my body wracked with sobs I couldn’t control. My mind kept replaying his face. His voice. The way he had looked at me. The words I had said to him.
God.
Alessia reached over and patted my leg gently, again and again.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Breathe. Please breathe.”
“I… I can’t,” I cried. “What if… what if he…”
“No,” she cut in quickly. “No. Don’t go there. Luciano is strong. It could be a small cut. A graze. He will be fine,” she said, obviously scared too. She was just handling it better.
I nodded, but the words didn't sink in. A small cut? For Luciano?
No way. If they rushed him to the hospital, then it was more.
Regret twisted in my gut. What if this was it?
What if I never got to say I was sorry?
The drive felt like a hundred hours. Traffic crawled, and those stupid red lights dragged on forever. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching the world move in slow motion.
Alessia's hand squeezed my knee again. “We're almost there. Hang on.” But inside, I was screaming.
‘Please, let him be okay. Please.’
Finally, the hospital loomed ahead, a stark building of white walls and flashing lights. Alessia swerved into the lot, slamming on the brakes. We rushed out immediately, the car door barely clicking shut. She tossed her keys to the security guard at the entrance without a word, and he caught them, nodding grimly.
We burst through the doors, the sterile smell of antiseptic hitting me like a wall. My heart pounded as we hurried to the receptionist, Alessia leading the way. “My brother,” Alessia said, her voice sharp with fear. “Luciano Moretti. He was just brought in.”
Before the receptionist could answer, someone hurried toward us and it was Gabriel.
Alessia grabbed his arm immediately.
“Where is he?” she asked as they walked.
“He’s in surgery, ma’am,” Gabriel replied.
Surgery. The word echoed in my head, sounding so foreign and distant. It was something that happened to other people. Some strangers in movies or news stories.
Never to me.
Never to Luciano, with his broad shoulders and unyielding strength. My stomach churned as we jabbed the elevator button, the wait feeling eternal.
The doors dinged open, and we piled in, Alessia's foot tapping impatiently.
We turned a corner, and there it was, the operating room doors, the red light above them glowing like a warning. My hand flew to my hair, fingers raking through it frantically. That light meant they were cutting into him, and fighting to keep him alive.
Oh God, Luciano.
“How did this happen?” Alessia asked, stopping just outside the doors.
Gabriel ran a hand over his face. “We were outnumbered. Ambush in the industrial district. The boss sustained a fatal gunshot wound to his rib. The doctor came out earlier, before they took him back in, and said it was... critical.”
The words slammed into me, stealing my breath. I fell to my knees right there on the cold tile floor, my palms pressing against my face.
No, no. This can't be happening. Not Luciano. Not like this. Tears soaked my hands, my body shaking.
“V… Viktor?” Alessia said, her voice pulling me back.
I forced myself to stand again, wiping my eyes, though fresh tears came. “Where is Viktor?” I asked, my voice cracking.
Gabriel breathed out heavily, shaking his head. “He refused to leave the other men behind. I... I think he...”
“He what?!” Alessia snapped, her eyes flashing.
“He is going after Volkov himself.”
“Is he insane?!” Alessia exploded, her hands balling into fists.
“You know how deep his loyalty runs for the boss,” Gabriel said quietly. “I think he’s more driven by rage because the shot was meant for him, and then the boss took it instead. I’m scared.”
“Why are the men of this family stupid and not always thinking straight?!” Alessia hollered, her voice echoing down the hall. I flinched at the sharpness, and the anger in her words hitting too close.
“Call him to fall back! All of them!” she ordered, turning to Gabriel.
He nodded, pulling out his phone, but before he could dial, the light above the doors flickered off and my heart stopped. The door swung open, and the doctor stepped out, pulling off his mask. He was middle-aged, with tired eyes and a calm demeanor that didn't match the storm inside me.
“Family for Mr. Moretti?” he asked, glancing at us.
Alessia and I stepped forward. “Yes. How is he?”
The doctor sighed, rubbing his neck. “The bullet entered below the rib cage, causing significant internal damage. We removed it and repaired the lacerations to the liver and diaphragm. There was substantial blood loss, and we transfused several units. His vitals are stabilizing, but he's in a precarious state.”
I barely followed the medical terms, lacerations, diaphragm… I mean, what was I supposed to do with them?
They swirled in my head, meaningless except for the fear they carried. Precarious. That meant he was not safe.
“We've got him in recovery now, but he's very unstable at the moment,” the doctor continued. “We need to watch him intensely for the next few hours. Any complications could arise from infection, or further bleeding. I will update you soon.”
My legs gave out again, and I collapsed to the floor, the tile cold against my skin. Sobs burst from me, uncontrollable, my body curling in on itself.
Luciano was unstable, fighting for every breath. It was too much.
The man I hated, left, and… love was now slipping away.
And all I could do was cry, the weight of it all crashing down.