Page 51 of Fierce Protector

“I’m going to need to take your gun, consigliere. Thepolice will be here soon and you need to be without a weapon by the time they get here.”

I glance at him in confusion, as he reaches into my jacket to take the gun from the shoulder holster. I don’t even remember placing it back there. He wipes my fingerprints off it with his shirt and hands it to Vito, one of our most trusted men, who pockets it immediately and excuses himself. He’ll make sure the weapon is never found.

“Whether you were saving her life or not, they’ll still take you in for questioning,” Marco says, his voice pained. “And charging the Bianchi consigliere will be too tempting for the DAs to pass up. It’s not a risk we can take right now, and you need to be here for her when she wakes up.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

All I can do is nod and be grateful that someone’s thinking straight right now.

There’s a commotion in the room behind us and the doors open and the gurney is wheeled through. Katerina is covered and I’m finally lucid enough to start to recognise the faces of the doctors and nurses currently surrounding her.

“Where are you taking her? Is she going to be okay?” I scream as I trail after them out into the hall.

I stop dead in my tracks when Danny turns around, his face as white as ash, and holds out a hand towards me, stopping me from following.

“I’m sorry, Mr Tiero, but you can’t go with her. They need to get her upstairs to a sterile OR and close her up. I’m so sorry. She’s stable rightnow, but you have to let the doctors work.” He makes a move to follow the gurney but stops himself and adds. “Give my thanks to whoever dealt with Doctor Jenkins. He deserved much worse.” The callousness in his voice is by no means unwarranted, but I can’t deny that it surprises me and has him climbing far higher in my estimation.

I dip my chin, acknowledging his words before he runs after Katerina.

As she’s rolled away my heart stutters, like it needs to be close to her in order for it to function properly. And all I can think isplease don’t go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KATERINA

“Please wake up,micetta,” Stefano whispers, his mouth pressed to my knuckles and his head resting against my thigh. Just to hear his voice is heaven, but to feel him next to me is a joy I was scared I’d never get to experience again.

It makes me worry that he’s not real and that this is just a dream. Some drug-induced world of make believe and that I’ll never get to feel his touch again. My pulse races as scattered memories assault my mind: how the lights reflected off the scalpel blade and the look in Doctor Jenkins’ eyes as he sliced into my flesh.

What if this isn’t real?

What if I wake up and I’m still there, trapped on his table and being carved open?

“Please, baby girl. Open your eyes for me. I need to know you’re okay,” he pleads, anguish lacing every word. I want to open my eyes. Confirm that this is real. ThatStefano is here, and that he came for me. That I’m not at the mercy of a madman. But they’re so heavy.

The steady background beep of a heart monitor picks up its pace as my pulse races. I’m groggy and half awake, and although I’m willing my body to move for Stefano, I don’t think it’s obeying me. I want to squeeze his hand and pull him to me. I want him to hold me and never let go.

At last, my eyelids obey and flutter open.

“Stefano,” I croak. His head pops up and our eyes lock. The relief that washes over me is profound and overwhelming. I expect to see him return my smile but instead, it’s like a damn breaks inside him and he drops his head to my hand and heaves huge sobs of relief. His tears cut like a knife, telling me exactly how close I came to never waking up again.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m okay, Stefano,” I say, my voice cracking as I try to soothe him. He lifts his head, wiping away his tears and leaning into my touch.

I reach across with my other arm to rest my hand on the back of his head and gasp as pain lances through my chest. More bursts of memory flash up. Doctor Jenkins’ cutting into me, the drugs in my IV, but I don’t know what happened after that.

“What happened while I was out? Tell me, please,” I whisper. “What did he do to me?”

Stefano sits back, carefully running his fingers along my temple before cupping my cheek in his palm. “You’re going to be fine, Katerina,” he promises, his voice full of care and concern yet concealing so much.

I throw the slightest scowl hisway and arch a brow. That’s the sum total of brattiness I can conjure in my current state. “That’s not what I asked.”

He drops his eyes, pain evident in his expression, but he obeys. “When I found you, he’d already”—he squeezes his eyes shut tight, like he’s forcing himself to say the words—“he’d already cut you open.”

I remember the incision, but as I look down at my chest and assess the throbbing ache and slices of pain that twinge with every breath, I know he must have cracked my chest. I stare at the corner of the dressing that’s peeking out above the neckline of my hospital gown, and I’m completely overwhelmed with emotion.

I might never have woken up. I could have died.

A heaviness settles in my heart when I think that I might never have seen Stefano’s face again. Never held his hand. Never kissed his lips. Just the idea of missing out on our forever has me feeling like my soul is tearing itself in two, but in spite of that, I still need to know how close I came to losing everything.

“Tell me everything, please,” I say as a tear I didn’t feel myself shedding tickles a trail down my cheek.

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