“Kiss me,” I whisper, struggling as I do so.
I watch his eyes close at my request, as if he knows it could be our last moment of intimacy.
“Kiss me quick.”
Even if this is the last time, I want to feel his lips on mine one last time. As if he knows the severity of this moment, he leans in, delicately placing his lips on mine. For one moment, the pain disappears, leaving me calm and at ease. Yet as he pulls away, realism swoops in and it’s just Zane and me and this dance with fate.
“You’re not going to die today, Amelia,” he tells me. “This is not the day I leave you. This is not it. I know the day I lose you, and it’s when we’re old and grey and after we’ve lived that happy life you dream of. It’s not today.”
I want to believe him, but as my breathing struggles on and I feel more blood hitting the back of my throat, I know I’m out of chances. I waited too long in a bid to protect myself, but in the end, I’ve broken not only my own heart, but his all over again.
As I begin to drift off and the pain numbs, the only thing I truly remember is Zane’s earth-shattering cry of my name.
But it’s not enough because darkness always win.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I never thought I could feel this detached from my body, but apparently, it's happened. Now I lay here, my mind racing a million miles a second, and I begin to take note of my heavy limbs, foggy head, and then the searing, indescribably painful ache in my stomach.
But I don’t open my eyes. I lay in the dark abyss, taking in every ounce of stimuli around me.
"Zane," I hear Carlo's tired voice speak. "Look, man, you need to get some sleep."
"Sleep isn't important right now," Zane retorts, snappy and with equal measures of exhaustion. "Amelia is my only priority." I feel the growl he exerts; the gruffness tells me that I'm missing what's occurred. He’s angry, resentful, and he sounds almost full of sorrow, but I’m alive, obviously. "I can't leave her, Carlo. I can't walk out of this room and miss her waking up. It's been too long. I can't leave now."
It’s been too long? But I only just closed my eyes, just to sway the tiredness, but it was only for a few seconds.
"But the doctors said," Carlo speaks again.
"I don't care what the doctors have said; I won't have her waking up alone or without me here!” Zane’s retort is snappier this time, and it hits me hard to hear him this torn up. “I need to see her wake up. I can’t miss that moment.”
“But you’re gonna end up in a hospital bed before long,” Carlo replies, worrisome of Zane’s reckless feat to remain by my side. “Lia wouldn’t want that!”
“I don’t care.”
That one keyword – hospital – triggers everything and as the dams burst, an all-consuming wave hits me, forcing me to remember every single detail. I’m panic stricken as I remember the events before and realize they can't have been some malicious nightmare my brain concocted. I need to wake up and find out what's happened.
I struggle with myself to move, fighting through the fog clinging to me as if it'll never let go. And that's when I manage it– a tiny, helpless mew escapes from between my dry, chapped lips. In that instance, I feel a hand wrap around mine, and I immediately know it's Zane. His large hand engulfs mine and the comfort it brings about causes me to have more fight to wake up wholly.
As I fight my eyes open, everything comes into focus all at once. The lights glare at me, the noises of hospital machinery and monitors invade my hearing, along with the hustle and bustle from what I assume is just outside of my hospital door. I close my eyes, not willing to deal with the reality.
"C'mon, sweetheart, open those eyes for me. You need to wake up." Although I can hear every ounce of gratefulness, the undertone of sorrow rings out, my heart rate accelerating as I worry about him. "Amelia, calm down. You just need to open your eyes. We're all here."
“Come on, Lia,” Carlo encourages me, showing that he, too, is here with me. “It’s time to wake up.” He struggles to crack a joke but fails miserably to the extent of watching me in, what I assume, is a coma has truly worn him down.
As my eyes flutter open, I find Zane standing over me, and everything is overpowering and terrifying as I struggle to comprehend anything around me. Even as Zane begins to beam a little, I find myself waning. Tiredness strives to win, clinging so fiercely to me.
“No, Amelia, you need to stay awake,” he pleads, that same distraught ring to his voice comes back. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’ve been asleep long enough.” As he says that, I open my eyes and look straight at him.
His stubble is no longer refined to that delicate peppering across his jaw but is now unruly and rugged. His entire face is shrouded by tiresome worry, his eyes red raw, and it’s at this moment that I catch that twinkle in his eyes, the one that isn’t a dazzling trait of his, but the wash of tears as they cover his eyes with a thick film.
“Don’t cry,” I whisper, my throat is beyond dry and coarse. “It’ll ruin your alpha maleness.”
“I’m just so happy to see you wake up,” he gruffly respond, his voice thick with tears.
I cough, closing my eyes as the roughness feels like razor blades lining my throat. Actually, I think that would be more fucking pleasant than how I’m feeling right now.
“Enz?” I ask, quietly so not to upset my throat more. “Manuel? How are they?” I open my eyes as silence takes over the room. “They got hurt. Gio,” I start, pausing to lick my lips before I continue, “he hurt them.” I now look at my brother, hoping for some sort of information that’ll calm me. “Are they okay?”
“Enzo’s resting a little down the hall,” Carlo chirps up. He’s standing directly at the foot of my bed, his hands wrapped around the post. “He’s quite badly hurt, but he’s expected to make a quick recovery.”
“And Manuel?” I ask, my face scrunching up considerably as I struggle to work out what’s going on. They’re being evasive with their attitude and responses.
"Manuel," Carlo breathes; it's shaky, difficult, and I know what he's going to say before he says it. He can’t even look at me now. "Manuel's gone, Lia." Carlo’s voice shrinks to a bare whisper, but it screams with so many connotations that he didn’t need to speak any louder.
I watch as a sliver of tears rushes down Carlo's cheek, flowing over the contours of his face. I rarely see Carlo cry, but for him to do so now, so unashamedly, makes my entire body begin to shut down. This can't be. I just woke up; I should be told that he and Enzo are doing the same.
"H-his injuries were too extensive," he continues, a clear ebb of guilt weeps into his voice. "He was gone before help could get to him." Carlo's grip on the end railing of my bed tightens so much his knuckles shine a bright white, and he tries to control himself, but he's mere moments from breaking and shattering. He's trying to hold strong through the numb silence I've presented him with, but my reaction is his undoing apparently. "I'm so sorry."
He flees the room, a sob escaping him as he does so.
"Amelia," Zane's soft tone bursts into the bubble I've locked myself into. The tenderness and the comfort he offers me finally tears apart that trance I've enlisted.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. Through the fog, I'm trying to make sense of everything, but it's difficult and I struggle to piece together the delicate information I've been given. He can't be dead. He can't be gone. He can't have left us in the evilest way possible. He's still alive. He has to be. "No," I murmur again; this time my mumble is to tell the ludicrous notions trying to win over my denial that it's all a disgusting lie. "He can't be. No," I say, this time as Zane's hand touches mine. Tears begin to burn my eyes, coming forth in ripples as my brain enters total meltdown. "No," I whisper once more this time as my heart begins to race, ignoring all sense. I'm becoming undone, cracking into pieces as grief prepares to ravage me. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head to deny the devilish lie he told me. I hear Zane talking, but it’s nothingness compared to the screaming going on inside my head. “No, n
o, no.”
I don’t remember much as that blackness takes advantage and claws me back into its beautiful abyss.
***
When I open my eyes again, the lighting’s changed. It's darker outside and the noise in the room has morphed into several sounds – a rhythmic beating, the sound of outside foot traffic, and whispered voices.
I feel the irritant of plastic around my face and acknowledge it to be an oxygen cannula propped under my nose. I go to bash it away, wanting the offending item gone. I’m blindly removing it, my eyes scrunching up, but gentle hands stop me.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't move too much," Zane attempts to calm me. His hands gently pull mine away from my face, sitting gently on the bed. “You need to keep that on. You needed a little extra help.”
“Tell me it was a lie,” I say, looking up at him. “Tell me that Manuel’s alive and he’s somewhere in this hospital.” I watch as Zane struggles with what to say, with how to handle this very situation. Instead, he closes his eyes and that says more than it ever needs to. But denial fuels a fire in me and my disbelief is far from waning. “Zane,” I whisper my newest plea, begging him to make right of all these atrocious wrongs.
“I’m so sorry, Amelia,” he murmurs, finally looking at me, and I see this is hitting him just as badly as it is my brother and me. “It was just too late.”
“So, he’s really dead?” I ask solemnly. The weight that tied me down and yanked me into unconsciousness is still there, but I feel numb in allowing it to take full force of me. Especially as Zane nods his head, unable to verbalize a response. “And Gio?” I ask, my voice quivering. After years of remaining unmoved and fearless to Giovanni, my strength is cut down by the callous actions he’s used to tear our family apart.
“No one knows,” Zane replies. “He hasn’t been here, and he’s not been home. He just ran.” I sense a slice of anger piercing his tone, an anger that runs deep, but me being here is keeping it isolated and contained. “Your father and I, erm, we came home and went straight to his office. There was a trail of blood, and,” Zane pauses, closing his eyes before beginning again, “Gio was there then, but my entire concentration was on you. I didn’t pay any interest to him. I had to save you. Th-there was just so much blood, and I didn’t stop him from leaving. I couldn’t leave you,” he tells me, his voice so minuscule. This time he does openly cry. He removes himself from the side of my bed to pace, to calm, to relish some of the relief of me waking up. “I felt you slipping away beneath my hands, Amelia, and I was terrified I had lost you. I kept calling your name, but you never opened your eyes again. You were slipping away, and I couldn’t do anything to help you. I couldn’t save you. I could only stand there praying because I could feel you leaving me.” He sniffs, wiping his face in vain before continuing. “It was a mad dash once the medics arrived. There was so much chaos as your father screamed for help, as Carlo came home, as we got you all to the hospital. And it’s felt like an eternity to finally have you looking at me.”
“How long has it been?” I quiz, my brow tying together.
“Four days,” he replies.
I choke on the thought – four days? My family have been grieving for four days, and I only added to the worry and stress. Manuel’s been gone four days, which means the grief is just waiting to cause a backlash.
I feel like my breathlessness has risen tenfold.
What type of reality have I woken to?
The grief that rips through me is too intense and I feel my body begin to unravel as my mind becomes unbidden with sorrowful howls. My heart rate begins to gallop as my disbelief mounts. I shake my head, unable to comprehend the truth that is tearing my heart apart. He's gone and there's not a fucking thing I can do to change it. This cannot happen. We're meant to be invincible. We're meant to be untouchable. My lack of immortality is thrust upon, and as my head begins to spin and my chest begins to tighten, I realize that our futures aren't promised. In the blink of an eye, it could all be gone. I know it's the truth because I'm now going to be living with a piece of icy heart missing forever.
I hoped this was a state of delirium, but as the sorrowful howl emits from my soul, weeping, grieving, yearning for some glance of solace, I realize that this is very much the cold, hard reality I have grown up in.
“Amelia, breathe. Sweetheart, you need to breathe,” Zane swoops in, the hero I need as I begin to unravel like before. “I know it’s hard and this is horrible news, but you need to just breathe. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to be here for you. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. I am not letting you deal with this alone.”
“How are we ever going to come back from this?” I ask, heaving as I try to calm myself. I look at him, hoping he’ll hold every single answer I need. “How do we recover from this?”
“By being a family,” Zane replies, sitting back down on the bed. “You have brothers who need you and you need them. You have to use each other to grieve together.”
“Manuel did nothing to deserve this,” I whisper, my murmur so softly issued it barely reaches my ears. “He was the one who was never meant to be hurt.” As my eyes begin to water, I close them. “Where is Carlo now?” I ask, opening them only to look at him and get a quicker response. He could pause, waiting for me to focus, but I need to know these things now. “And Enzo?”
“Carlo left after telling you. He’s distraught. Last I heard, Enzo was sleeping. He’s barely spoken since he woke up. When we told him Manuel was gone and that you were in a coma, he closed down. He wanted to be left alone, so Carlo’s been between sitting outside his room and waiting by your bedside.” There’s a heavy break, again the sound of my heart monitor takes over the room, but suddenly, Zane intakes a huge breath to gather some courage. “I hate that this is happening to you, Amelia.”
I take a moment to absorb it all and taking in Zane’s solemn exterior only adds to the misery of the moment. My eyes burn once more, my throat tightens, and I reach out for his hand. “It’s happening to you, too.”
“I’m not family,” he whispers, giving me a small smile.
“You’re mine,” I murmur my response, and the tears that I swore wouldn’t fall begin to drop. If there is one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s that a man who repeatedly comes back to me is someone worth paying attention to. The one who loves me regardless of what I say and do is one worth treasuring. Before, when he let me go, the circumstances were different, but now he knows everything. There aren’t any hidden secrets, no dire skeletons I want to keep hidden. In my rashness to be cold, I turned against him in the hope he’d lose all manner of faith and love in me, but it only strengthened. A man like that, one who I love so unwittingly, is one that I will only ever want. “There are a lot of things I could wish for right now and having you here is definitely one of them.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m here to stay. I only leave when you tell me and I want a damn good reason. I think even then, I won’t be able to leave.”
I lick my lips as the tears become heavier and I close my eyes to prevent them from falling just now. In the face of grief, I have this man to present me with so much love and support. While I become unbidden, shattering into millions of pieces, Zane is the rope I need to hold me together. Without him, I dread to think what mess I would be moving through the day as. As the memories of Manuel’s demise and my own and Enzo’s stabbing briskly stir alive, I cave. I shudder on the first sob, it becoming a tremendous wave that crashes over me and begins to drag me away. Quickly, my tears disperse into a frenzied flood I cannot stop. Grief captures me and I am far too weak to fight against it.
Zane gets up, his weight leaving the bed, but it returns moments later as he comes to my side, crawling beside me. Gently, and with ease, he pulls me into his arms, wary of my fragility and allows me to dissolve wholly as he just holds onto me. He minds every line and wire that runs from my body just so he can keep his arms around me and gives me any piece of peace he can offer me. I thought h
aving him here playing bedside vigil was enough, but the moment I am surrounded by everything that makes Zane – his arms, his scent, his breathing, his love – I find myself able to find some salvation from the grief I only know will develop into a maelstrom in the coming weeks.
Then with a hushed voice, he whispers the one thing I need to hear– “Va tutto bene, dolcezza.”
It could be an empty promise, and right now I fear nothing will ever be okay, but he’s here holding me when I need him the most. That tells me there is some distance glimmer of hope for us all.
***
It’s been hours since I woke up the second time. I seem to sleep in snippets, waking up every other hour after having the horrors of life brandished at me on repeat. Zane dozed off in the seat beside my bed, his hand clasped in mine after holding onto me to settle. I wanted to ask him about my own health, but every time I thought about it, I realized I didn’t care. I’m alive and that’s what matters. I got lucky while my baby brother didn’t. What else do I need to know?
Staring up at the ceiling of my hospital room, I allow the room around me to fade away; the gentle hum of machinery around me becomes distant, as does Zane’s heavy breathing. All I’m left with is the ticking of my thoughts as they roll over and lapse into one another, fighting for my attention.
But the front runner is the thought of death.
There is no romanticism about death. There’s no warmth, only that aching feeling as everything you know is torn from you. And that’s the bittersweet truth of becoming too comfortable in life – there is nothing more final than death.
But that’s the problem, right?
It’s meant to be final. There is no going back. There’s no safe retreat, no miracle that could change it, no ability for one last chance to say some sentimental words to part on. There isn’t a rewind button or a do-over because, if I had either, I would mutilate Giovanni and make him cry his way to death. I would make sure he felt his life slipping away like he did to me. I would punish him for every sick deed he threatened upon any of us and I would never leave him the opportunity to spiral into the sadistic beast he always wanted to be. He issued death as if it were a good friend of his. He allowed it in, allowed it to captivate our lives and leave us all hanging in the balance.
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