Bruises & Truths
The world came back to Adriano in fragments—burning light behind his eyelids, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the slow rhythmic beeping of a monitor somewhere nearby.
His body felt like it had been set on fire and then thrown off a building.
Everything ached.
His head throbbed, each pulse like a drumbeat against his skull. A groan escaped his lips as he attempted to shift, his muscles screaming in protest. He opened his eyes—barely—and caught sight of the IV drip attached to his arm. His vision was hazy at first, the white hospital walls blurring together until—
“Adri.”
The voice cut through the fog in his brain.
Familiar.
Faintly worried.
He blinked until the face came into focus. “Gabriele?”
Gabriele was on his feet in an instant, striding across the room. His face was tight with concern as he gently placed a hand on Adriano’s shoulder and urged him back down.
“Hey, hey, hey. Easy,” he said softly. “Lie back, don’t move. You’re still pretty banged up.”
Adriano allowed himself to be guided back down, gritting his teeth against the pain.
“I’m gonna get the doctor,” Gabriele added, already heading toward the door.
Adriano stared up at the ceiling, dazed, the fluorescent lights above humming like static in his ears. There was a heavy silence, thick as concrete, pressing against his chest.
A moment later, the door opened again, and Gabriele returned—this time with a young woman in a white coat beside him.
“Adriano, this is Dr. Josephine Leone,” Gabriele said, stepping aside. “She’s the one who’s been taking care of you since you were brought in like a day ago.”
Adriano blinked. “I’ve been unconscious for a whole day?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes. You suffered a severe concussion and a few nasty contusions on your head and face. Thankfully, nothing more serious. No internal bleeding, no fractures. But you may experience dizziness, headaches, or confusion for a while.”
She handed Gabriele a small packet of papers. “This is the prescription—painkillers, some anti-inflammatories—and a recommended diet to help with recovery.”
Then, glancing back at Adriano with a light smile, she added, “Make sure he eats properly and takes his meds. Since you're his brother, I'm trusting you to keep him in check.”
Gabriele chuckled under his breath. “Oh, Doc, my baby brother here? Hates medicine. Been like that since he was a little shit in grade school.”
Adriano turned his head with a flat expression. “Now why the fuck are you lying?”
“I’m lying?” Gabriele grinned, pointing at himself. “Adri, why are you trying to act all macho now?”
Dr. Leone let out a soft laugh, watching the exchange. “You two are hilarious.”
Gabriele gave her a wink. “I’ll make sure he takes his meds. Promise.”
“Perfect,” she said brightly.
Adriano cleared his throat. “So… do I have to stay here, or what?”
The doctor smiled. “Nope. You’re good to be discharged today if you feel up for it.”
She began turning toward the door, then paused, did a little spin on her heel and tapped her forehead.
“Silly me,” she said. “I forgot to ask—you came in with bruises and head trauma. Do we need to contact the police and file a report?”
Adriano, without missing a beat: “Yes.”
At the same time, Gabriele: “No.”
They both turned to each other slowly, like actors in a tragic comedy.
Adriano shrugged.
Gabriele stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
The doctor’s head bounced between them like she was watching a tennis match.
Adriano finally sighed and turned to her. “No. It’s nothing. I just… went around looking for the wrong people’s trouble.”
The doctor hesitated, eyes lingering on Gabriele, who gave her a smooth, nonchalant smile. She let out a small awkward laugh.
“Well,” she said, gathering her clipboard, “try not to do that again unless you want a long-term relationship with my hospital bed.”
She made for the door. “A nurse will be in shortly to help you get ready.”
And then she was gone.
Silence crept in for a second. Then Gabriele turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but his tone calm, cool and leveled.
“Are you fucking crazy? Like, have you actually gone mad?”
Adriano scoffed. “No. But I would love to see Alessandro get a taste of his own damn medicine.”
Gabriele chuckled and shook his head. But there was no amusement behind the laugh. His eyes hardened.
“Okay. Let’s say I let you call the cops. Let’s say I don’t stop you. You press charges, Alessandro gets arrested. Great. And then what?” He leaned in. “What the fuck do you think happens next, Adriano? You really think they won’t dig a little deeper? You think they won’t start looking into you too? We deal in illegal businesses, Adriano. Have you forgotten that there’s a lot of blood on the hands of every single one of us in this God forsaken family?”
He held up a finger for every word. “The designer clothes. Shoes. Wrist watches. The clubs. The houses. All those expensive cars that you have the luxury of riding. That's all blood money. You think you’ll be immune because you’re hurt and pissed off?”
Adriano said nothing. For once.
“You think the FBI’s not gonna start tracing every transaction, every business, every person tied to you? To us?” Gabriele’s voice dropped. “I love you, Adri. But sometimes you don’t think. You act on impulse. And one day, it’s gonna get you killed.”
He paused, his tone low and steady. “Or worse. Padré might beat death to it.”
Adriano just stared at him. The weight of truth sat heavy in the room.
The door creaked open, breaking the tension.
A young nurse in light blue scrubs stepped in. “Hi,” she said softly. “Doctor Leone sent me. I’m here to get you ready for discharge.”
Gabriele gave a nod. “Go ahead.”
She walked over to Adriano’s side, her hands gentle as she disconnected the IV. “That’s it,” she said with a smile. “You’re good to go.”
As she turned to leave, Adriano’s voice stopped her.
“Hey,” he said, his tone dry. “Can you help me out of this ugly hospital gown?”