Chapter 96 *
Scarlett’s POV
Tatum was already pulling out his phone. His fingers moved fast across the screen.
I laid Santino down on the floor. Checked his pulse.
There. Faint but steady.
My hands were shaking. I pressed two fingers against his neck. Felt the weak flutter under my fingertips.
Not good. But not gone yet.
Scarlett dropped to her knees beside me. Her face was white as a sheet.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Is he—"
"He's alive." I kept my voice level. Calm. "But we need to move. Now."
I scooped him up. Felt how light he was. How fragile.
When did he get so old?
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut.
My chest felt tight. Wrong. This was my fault. I'd brought Scarlett here. Let her get dragged into this mess. Let my grandfather get involved.
I should have handled this differently. Should have kept him out of it.
I carried him toward the door. Took the stairs two at a time.
My arms were shaking from more than just his weight.
Arthur was already at the bottom. He saw us coming and his eyes went wide.
"The car—"
"Already called it," Tatum said from behind me. "It's waiting."
We burst through the front doors.
The private ambulance was there. Engine running. Back doors open.
I climbed inside. Laid Santino down on the stretcher.
The paramedic was already moving. Oxygen mask. IV line. Heart monitor.
The beeping started. Slow and unsteady.
I sat down on the bench. Put my head in my hands.
This vehicle was supposed to be for Scarlett. I'd had it stationed here just in case. In case something went wrong with the pregnancy.
Now my grandfather was using it instead.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
Scarlett climbed in after me. Sat down across from me.
Her face was still pale. Her hands were twisted together in her lap.
The ambulance started moving.
I watched the paramedic work. Watched the monitors. Watched my grandfather's chest rise and fall.
Please don't die. Not like this. Not because of me.
The drive felt like it took hours. Probably only took fifteen minutes.
We pulled up to the private medical facility. The one the family kept on retainer.
They were ready for us. Had been expecting the call.
The doors opened. They pulled the stretcher out.
I followed. Kept pace with them as they wheeled him through the doors.
Into the emergency bay. Through the double doors marked "Authorized Personnel Only."
A nurse stopped me at the threshold.
"Sir, you'll need to wait here."
"Like hell—"
"Sir." Her voice was firm. Professional. "Let us do our job."
The doors swung shut in my face.
I stood there. Staring at them.
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
Behind me, I could hear Scarlett's footsteps. Feel her presence.
"Damon—"
"I need air."
I walked away. Found the nearest exit. Pushed through it.
The cold night air hit my face. Sharp. Biting.
I pulled out my cigarettes. Lit one with shaking hands.
Drew the smoke deep into my lungs. Held it. Let it burn.
This was on me. All of it.
I should have been smarter. Should have seen this coming.
Should have kept everyone I cared about away from this clusterfuck.
I finished the cigarette. Lit another.
Twenty minutes passed. Maybe thirty.
Then the doors opened behind me.
Footsteps approached. I didn't turn around.
"Mr. Wolfe?"
I recognized the voice. Dr. Morrison. The family's primary physician.
I turned slowly.
He looked tired. His surgical mask was pulled down around his neck.
"How is he?"
"Stable." He ran a hand through his graying hair. "We've got him on oxygen. Ran a full cardiac panel."
"And?"
"His heart is weak. You knew that already. The stents are holding but there's scarring."
He paused. Met my eyes.
"His liver enzymes are elevated. Blood pressure is dangerously high. And the stress from tonight..." He shook his head. "It could have killed him."
The words hit like bullets.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying he needs to avoid stress. Completely." Dr. Morrison's expression was serious. Grave. "Any more shocks to his system and his heart won't take it. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
I understood perfectly.
One more event like tonight and my grandfather would die.
"How do I prevent that?"
"Keep him calm. Keep him happy. Give him a reason to want to keep living."
Dr. Morrison looked at me pointedly.
"Whatever it takes."
He walked away. Left me standing there in the cold.
I stood there for a long moment. Let his words sink in.
Then I went back inside.
Found the private room they'd moved Santino to. Top floor. Corner suite.
The door was slightly open.
I pushed through quietly.
Santino was in the bed. Hooked up to monitors. IV lines in both arms. Oxygen cannula under his nose.
His eyes were half-open. Unfocused.
He was mumbling. The words were slurred. Barely coherent.
I walked closer. Strained to hear.
"All gone... everything's gone..."
His voice was so weak. Nothing like the commanding tone from earlier.
"Your father... shouldn't have gone after that damn woman... got himself killed... got you turned into a monster..."
My chest tightened.
"My empire... the Wolfe name... it all dies with me... no one to carry it forward..."
I pulled up a chair. Sat down beside the bed.
My grandfather's eyes were wet. Tears leaked out the corners.
I'd never seen him cry before. Not once in my entire life.
His hand moved weakly on the blanket. Trying to reach for something that wasn't there.
"I built this from nothing. Your father expanded it. You made it stronger. But what's the point? What's it all for if there's no one to pass it to?"
The monitors beeped steadily. His heart rate was elevated but stable.
I sat there. Listened to him ramble.
Let the memories come.
My father had been the golden boy. The perfect heir. Handsome. Charismatic. Brilliant.
He was supposed to marry into one of the other Five Families. Solidify alliances. Produce legitimate heirs.
Instead, he met Dr. Viola Parrish, my mother.