167

167
Raella's POV
The hospital waiting room was empty except for me and Vincenzo.
We’d been there for two hours already. The first hour had passed quickly. It was eaten up by Vincenzo barking orders at every doctor in the vicinity to double- and triple-check me for any injuries.
“If something happens to her because any one of you motherfuckers didn’t do a thorough enough examination, I’ll burn this hospital to the ground,” he growled after I’d been x-rayed and examined at least three different times.
Beyond a mild concussion, I was fine. Because, even with that threat hanging over their heads, each doctor cleared me to go home with Vincenzo as soon as I was ready.
But we didn’t go home. We came to the waiting room to wait. And wait.
And wait.
“He should be out of surgery by now, right?” I dropped my face into my hands and pressed my palms into my aching eye sockets. “He’s been back there for hours.”
“Two hours. That’s not that long for a gunshot wound.” Vincenzo massaged his heavy hand between my shoulder blades. It eased the tension in my body, but I didn’t think anything could help the ache in my heart.
“It feels like a long time. Someone should be coming to update us more often. Like, if he dies on the table, will they even tell us? They might not even know he’s my dad. I didn’t tell them. Did you tell them?”
He squeezed my shoulders until they eased down from around my ears. “As soon as there is something to know, they’ll tell us.”
I knew he was right, but this was torture. Sitting next to my father while he bled out on the floor had been terrible, but at least I could watch his chest rise and fall. I knew he was alive.
Now, I was powerless. And it was all Carmella’s fault.
“I can’t believe she shot him.” The tension Vincenzo rubbed away came back in full force. “He avoided my mom and Damian for a decade, but one week of being in my life and he got shot and ended up in the hospital.”
“I don’t think it was being part of your life that was the problem,” Vincenzo said softly. “My world is dangerous. It’s why I wanted to—”
I turned to him and squeezed his hand. “Don’t say it. I know you wanted to keep me safe, but sending me away wasn’t an option.”
He had been there for me all night—through the attacks and afterward. Every second since he had barged through the front doors of his mansion and found Carmella holding me hostage had been spent trying to protect me and make sure I was okay.
“I chose you, Vincenzo.” The light behind him flared in my concussed vision, casting him in a faint glow. If it didn’t burn so fucking badly, it would have been kind of beautiful. “I chose your life. It’s my life, too. Our life.”
He nodded. “It is our life, Raella. You decided I was worth the danger. And I know you’re worried your dad is going to get out of surgery and walk away again, but your dad made the same choice you did. When he pulls through, he won’t be mad at you. You’re worth the nightmare that was tonight and so much more.”
I squeezed his arm and laid my cheek on his shoulder. Closing my eyes felt good, but I didn’t want to sleep. It was the early hours of the morning. Getting a bit of sleep now would have been smart. Who knew how late we’d be up by the time this night was over?
I just knew, if I went to sleep, I’d dream of everything that had happened. Of Carmella running at me, red-faced and screaming. I’d dream of my father’s body hitting the tile floor. Of Damian pointing a gun at Vincenzo’s chest.
I’d see myself plunging the knife into Carmella’s neck again and again.
I didn’t say anything, but Vincenzo knew me too well. He could feel me tensing up, trying to protect myself from my own memories. He turned and kissed my forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“I killed someone tonight,” I whispered.
“You killed Carmella.”
“Is there a difference?”
“The difference is that everyone who has ever known her will understand why you did it.”
I sighed. “I know she was awful, but… by killing her, am I any better than she was?”
All at once, Vincenzo’s shoulder was gone from under my head. But before I could tip sideways, he grabbed my face. His thumbs were gentle as they brushed along my cheekbones. “There is no comparison between you and her. You are worth a hundred of her. A million. Solnishka, you are not a bad person for protecting yourself against a crazy woman. You’re a mafia queen. You did what had to be done.”
I shook my head. “Maybe one day, I’ll be able to hear those words and believe them. Until then, I might just need you to repeat them to me a lot.”
He smiled sadly. “I’ll say them as often as you need, Raella. If it helps, I love knowing you can be a little ruthless. It’s sexy.”
I arched a brow. For the first time in hours, a reluctant smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Really? I’ll have to remember that.”
I was still looking up at him, letting his smile thaw the ice in my veins, when I heard the door open.
News. It was a nurse coming to tell us how the surgery was going. Maybe a doctor. Finally.
It felt like I moved quickly, but the concussion slowed things down. All I knew was by the time I looked towards the door and stood up…
My mother was standing in front of me.
I couldn’t make sense of what she was doing there or how she had found me. I just stared at her. Vincenzo was the first to say something. “Samantha, what are you—”
Before he could ask the question, my mother hauled back and slapped me.
My cheek stung, but the real pain was in my skull. It felt like my eyes were going to bulge out of my head. My teeth rattled together and I had to grab the arm of the chair next to me to keep from dropping to my knees.
Vincenzo grabbed her and pushed her back, barking something at her about not laying a hand on me. But I didn’t hear any of it.
Her eyes were red and puffy like she had been crying. Mascara ran down her cheeks and her nose was running. She looked like she had been thrown in a dryer on high speed.
What was she doing here?
I couldn’t make sense of it until my mom’s screams cut through the roar of blood in my ears.
“—have no idea what you’ve done, Rafaella! You killed him, but you ruined me, too! Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?”
I felt like I was on stage for a play I hadn’t rehearsed. And the play was in another language.
“I didn’t—” I shook my head, which was a mistake. My vision pixelated and I had to close my eyes until it settled. “I killed Carmella. But she was attacking me. She was going to kill me. I didn’t have a choice.”
Vincenzo was still pushing my mother back, but she was stretching onto her toes, talking over his shoulder and around his arm. “I don’t care about that little bitch; I’m talking about Damian. You killed my husband and I’ll never forgive you.”
Oh. I wasn’t sure how I had forgotten. In all the chaos, Damian’s death had slipped through the cracks.
Probably because I had no regrets about it at all. I hadn’t pulled the trigger, but I knew the world was a better place with him gone. Vincenzo had done us all a favor. If he hadn’t shot him in the head, I would have. Gladly.
“He broke into my house. He knew Carmella was going to try to kill me and he didn’t try to stop her.” I stared at my mom, but nothing I said was wiping away the anger on her face. “He was going to kill you. He said he would kill you and start over somewhere else with—”
“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped. “Everything Damian ever did was for our family. He was trying to take care of us.”
I snorted. “He was taking care of himself. He never cared about you. He said every man needed someone to take care of his house and keep his—”
I stopped myself. I’d crossed a lot of lines tonight, but telling my own mother her dead husband only kept her around as a sex toy was too far.