Chapter 130 HOW TO BREATHE.
\~~~LUCIANO.
I lay there in the hospital bed, the sheets stiff and smelling of bleach, staring at the ceiling tiles that seemed to mock me with their bland perfection.
The pain in my side had dulled to a persistent ache, thanks to whatever drugs they pumped into me,
The door creaked open, and there she was, Raina, slipping back into the room like a shadow with grace. Her eyes met mine, and I saw the flicker of surprise when she realized I was awake.
No groggy haze for me. I had been up for a bit, piecing together the fragments of last night.
She paused in the doorway, her hand still on the knob, that soft morning light from the window catching the worry lines on her face.
“You're up,” she said, her voice a mix of relief and something heavier, like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Couldn't sleep forever,” I replied, my tone light, but my gaze held hers steady.
She crossed the room in a few steps, her slippers dragging on the floor, and sank into the chair beside the bed. Before she could say more, the door opened again, and the doctor came in.
He nodded at me, then turned to Raina, who straightened up immediately.
“Good morning, Mr. Moretti. How are we feeling today?” the doctor asked, but his eyes darted to the monitors first, checking the steady beep of my heart rate.
“Better,” I grunted, shifting slightly to test the pull of stitches.
He poked and prodded, listened to my lungs, checked the bandage on my side, and asked the usual questions about pain levels and dizziness. Raina watched every move, her arms crossed, like she was ready to pounce if he missed something. When he finished jotting notes, she leaned forward.
“Doctor, he's ready to go home. Can you process the discharge papers now? He is okay to go home, right?”
I hid the smile tugging at my lips, keeping my face neutral as I watched her take charge.
She spoke with a firm edge, the one that brooked no argument, like a true guardian standing over her charge.
It stirred something warm in my chest, pride, maybe, or just the simple fact that she was here, fighting for me when I was used to fighting alone.
The doctor hesitated, and then nodded his head in agreement, muttering about final checks and signing forms, then left with a promise to return soon. The door clicked shut, and the room fell quiet again.
Raina turned back to me, her expression softening as she sat on the edge of the bed this time.
She reached for my hand, her fingers cool and gentle as they laced through mine. I felt the slight tremor in her touch, and it pulled at me.
“Is something bothering you?” I asked finally, my eyes searching mine.
I squeezed her hand, waiting for her answer.
She took a breath, steeling herself. “Luciano, there's something I need to tell you. Irina... She came here. Earlier, while you were sleeping. She found me in the hall, and begged for help.”
I let out a short laugh, sharp and humorless. “Of course she did.”
“She looked broken,” Raina said, her voice steady but laced with pity. “I didn't promise anything, but I told her I'd talk to you. Because... I don't know. Maybe there's a way to end this without more death.”
I stared at her, the room spinning a little despite the meds.
Rage bubbled up, hot and familiar, but Raina's gaze kept it in check.
She stood then, smoothing her shirt, and headed for the door.
“I’m coming,” she murmured, slipping out.
When the door opened again, there she was, leading Irina by the elbow. The woman looked like death warmed over. Her hair were matted, her face was pale under the scars, and her clothes were hanging loose on her frame.
She wouldn't meet my eyes, and kept staring at the floor instead.
I shook my head, a hiss escaping through clenched teeth.
This was insane.
Raina guided Irina to a chair across from the bed, then stood between us like a shield.
A short, and bitter laugh came out of me totally devoid of humor.
“Manipulation at its finest,’' I said, my voice ice-cold.
“You think dragging her in here changes anything? She tried to kill you, Raina. And now she plays the victim? She deserves whatever is coming, baby, every bit of it.”
Irina flinched, her hands twisting in her lap, but I didn't care.
The images flooded back at the bomb incident, Raina's screams, and the way I'd held her as she shook. This woman had orchestrated it all, and now she wanted mercy? From me?
Raina didn't back down. She crossed to my side again, sitting close, her hand finding mine once more.
She caressed it softly, her touch a balm against the storm.
“I am not asking you to save her because she deserves mercy,” she said, her voice low and earnest. “I am asking because I refuse to become like she is. Cold, vengeful, and letting hate eat you alive until there's nothing left. We have both seen what that does, Luciano. Don't let it take you.”
Her words pierced deeper than any bullet. I looked down at our joined hands, the internal war raging.
Part of me, the old part, the one forged in back alleys and boardrooms stained with blood screamed to end it. Call the men, have her dragged out, and finish what she had started.
But then her face flashed in my mind.
I saw Raina crying over me, her tears soaking my chest while I lay unconsciously.
I heard her voice confessing everything she tried to bury.
I remembered how she could have walked away, how she did walk away and and yet here she was again.
Still choosing me.
Killing Irina wouldn't fix the hole in my side, or the guilt gnawing at me for dragging Raina into this life.
It wouldn't erase the nights I'd spent drowning in whiskey, plotting revenge that tasted like ash.
No, it would just add another ghost, and another weight on my soul.
Letting her go... it wasn't a weakness. It was control and choosing when to stop the cycle, on my terms.
For the first time, I saw it clearly. Mercy wasn't for Irina. It was for me, for us and to build something real amid the ruins.
I exhaled slowly, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Fine,” I said, my voice steady now, cold as steel.
“But not forgiveness. Not mercy. This is on my terms,” I fixed Irina with a hard stare, watching her shrink back.
“You leave the country and there will be no protection from me or mine beyond that. No second chances, either. I will ensure you leave the country safely.”
She nodded frantically, tears welling up. I turned to Raina, holding her gaze. “This is the only time I bend. And it is not for her,” My voice softened, just for her. “It is for you.”
Irina slid off the chair then, falling to her knees on the cold floor.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Thank you both. I swear, I'll leave immediately. You'll never see me again.”
She glanced up at Raina with something like gratitude, then scrambled to her feet and bolted for the door, not looking back.
The room fell silent after she left, the echo of the door's click hanging in the air. Raina stared at it for a long moment, her brow furrowed, then breathed out a deep sigh. “I pity her.”
I snorted, leaning back against the pillows. “Well, you wouldn't if you knew Irina Volkov in her prime. Sharp as a blade, and ruthless. She burned bridges long before that bomb.”
“But still, she…” Raina started, turning to me with that empathetic light in her eyes.
I cut her off, reaching for her hand again, pulling her closer.
“Shall we prepare to leave already? I can't wait to get home and just pin you down on the bed. This place is suffocating.”
I hissed the last word, the frustration of confinement mixing with a spark of hunger. Her cheeks flushed, and she laughed softly, the sound like sunlight breaking through clouds.
As the doctor returned with papers, I watched her sign them with that same guardian energy, and for the first time in days, the future felt less like a battlefield and more like a path we could walk together.
Home waited, and not just walls and beds, but the chance to heal, to hold her without the shadow of war looming. And as she gathered our things, I let myself believe it could last.
Oh, it had better last.
Because she is the only thing in this world that feels human to me.
In a life built on blood, control, and survival, she is the one place where the noise stops, where the violence quiets and where I don’t feel like a weapon waiting to be used.
With her, the world makes sense. It softens, and I remembers how to breathe.
She doesn’t fear me the way others do, at least not anymore.
She sees the monster and still chooses the man beneath it. And that terrifies me more than any enemy ever could.
If she leaves again, I don’t know what I will become.
If she stays… maybe this world doesn’t have to be so cruel after all.