Page 105 of Third Degree

“I need to be here when she wakes,” I responded, slumped over the chair. I had spent the last day in the hospital. My insomnia was back in full force.

She grimaced in sympathy. “She won’t be awake for a few more days. We need to keep her sedated so that the pain doesn’t cause another retear of the muscle.”

I had heard this before from the doctor, but somehow, I didn’t believe it.

“I can’t force you to go home, but I am going to encourage you to. We will call you immediately if something changes.”

I looked over at the nurse, who continued to check her vitals and then quickly left. Sighing, I rapped my knuckles on the armrest of the chair I sat in before taking out my phone and making a call.

“Elio. How is she?” Tatum answered on the first ring.

“She’s the same,” I responded. “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Tatum promised.

“I need you to come to the hospital for the day. I have to go somewhere for business just until the evening.”

“Be there in ten.”

Next, I texted the pilot to prepare the jet.

Leaning over Gianna’s hospital bed, I clutched her delicate hands.

She sat there, still and frozen amidst the symphony of buzzing machines. The bandages wrapped around her shoulder were evidence of the surgery to remove the bullet. But she remained unresponsive, a sleeping angel resting in her bed.

Her features appeared serene, framed by strands of disheveled hair that cascaded across her pillow. The gentle rise and fall of her chest revealed the rhythm of life within, reminding me that she was still here, fighting.

I studied her face, searching for any sign of awakening, but her eyes remained closed, hidden behind delicate lashes. Lips, usually adorned with a playful smile, were now untouched by their signature curve.

Yet, even in her unconscious state, there was grace and beauty present that captivated me.

It was a fight I knew I had to bear for her. I needed to go to her father, the one responsible for giving her life and fating her death. I needed to make sure that once and for all, this was the end of the chapter with him. He was never going to touch me, the business, or my family ever again.

After practically threatening Tatum within an inch of her life if she didn’t call me if she heard any news from Gianna’s doctors or if she woke up, I was on a plane to Chicago, hoping to get this meeting over as quickly as I could.

Alex and Julian offered to come in for support, and as did Ricardo, but I turned them all down. I needed to do this on my own. After all, this was technically my father-in-law we were speaking about.

As soon as I felt the plane landing, I grabbed my bag with photos of Gianna I had printed off, as well as my club.

The heartless bastard wouldn’t give a shit about the other victims, but knowing he may have killed his own daughter and, in turn, his right-hand man was dead, he would feel how big of a fuckup this was. If I could even describe it as that.

Although we never released a body, word got out that Carlo had passed away in the shooting. The family thought that he was simply a victim and tried to paint me in a shitty light. It turns out that Angelo had never revealed his plan to anyone else outside of Carlo to protect Gianna. I was going to pay him a surprise visit after the funeral when everyone was gone.

In Mafia culture, weddings and funerals were the easiest ways to access someone without having to go through security.

When the driver finally pulled up to the house, it was nearly one in the morning. The family had all left, and there was only one car in the lot, along with one bodyguard standing at the door.

But because I had been here for the wedding, I knew I could go around back to the guesthouse, break in, and then walk into the house through the connecting door.

The damn moon couldn’t make up its mind about whether to hide or shine, but it didn’t matter. I had a job to do, and this house was about to reveal its secrets. The air hung heavy, charged with the electricity of anticipation, as if the whole damn place was holding its breath, unaware of the predator in its midst. My heart pounded in my chest, pumping adrenaline through my veins like a goddamn freight train.

Scanning the surroundings like a hawk, I checked for any signs of movement. With the guesthouse in front of me, I grabbed my elbow and popped open the glass. Because this was usually a place where the guards slept, it wasn’t security glass. Alex had confirmed this when we were at the wedding.

Crouching low, gloved hands gripping the frame, I eased the rest of the window open, praying for silence. The metal let out a faint creak, teasing my nerves. I froze, ears straining for any hint that I’d been busted. But the night stayed quiet, giving me a slim chance to keep moving.

Slipping through the narrow gap, I found myself inside the guesthouse. Shadows swallowed me whole, concealing my presence as I moved through this unfamiliar territory.

Every step I took was a whisper, calculated and cautious. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of electricity and the faintticktockof a clock. I made my way to the door connecting the guesthouse to the main house, each footfall deliberate and precise.

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