Page 113 of The Devil's Pawn

He clasps his hands together again. “Thank you.”

Then he runs out of there like hell.

Enzo comes to stand beside me. “You think we did the right thing?”

I shrug. “I hope so.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

RAQUEL

It’smuch different being inside the walls of a hospital as a visitor. I never realized what my patients’ families went through until this very moment. Waiting for news on Chiara’s status is the worst kind of torture.

I sit slumped in the brown chair while Dom paces. The grim look on his face speaks to my heart. Dante and Enzo are here too, all of us just hoping she’s okay and clinging to the hope that she’ll make it.

The last thing I heard from Dom was that she needed immediate surgery. We don’t know where the bullet hit or how bad it is. It could have entered her intestines from that angle, or any major organ. It’s so hard to say from where I stood and how fast it all happened.

Minutes tick by until almost an hour passes.

I stand up and march over toward the nurse’s station, needing an update.

Just as I’m about to ask, a tall woman in blue scrubs walks out of the double doors, scanning the large waiting area. “I’m looking for the family of Chiara Bianchi.”

Dominic rushes to her. “Yeah. Here.”

His eyes widen as I quickly follow.

She removes her blue cap and grips it in her palm as her attention darts from Dominic to me.

“Ms. Bianchi is in stable condition. The bullet went right through from one side of her stomach to the other, missing her intestines. She’s very lucky. She’ll make a full recovery in about two weeks and should be able to go home in a couple of days.”

I exhale a sigh of relief as my body breaks out in tingles from the anxiety I was holding on to, while Dominic runs a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “How’s our baby?”

With that question, the doctor’s face contorts with a fragment of a scowl. I know that look. I’ve worn it myself when I had to deliver awful news. Like the news I know is coming now.

The baby is gone.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cavaleri, but—”

“Fuck!” he cries with a roar, stomping to the corner of the room.

His brothers quickly follow him.

“I’m really sorry,” the doctor tells me. “This is my least favorite part of the job.”

“I know.” And I do, more than she realizes.

She nods once, her features solemn. “You’ll be able to see her once she wakes up.”

Then she leaves me.

Chiara looked so happy about the baby, and once she realizes what she’s lost—what our family took from her—she’ll be in far more pain than I can imagine.

* * *

DANTE

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