Page 55 of The Mafia's Second Shot

“You can’t go in,” she says. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Just save him.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” she replies, her tone reassuring.

I collapseonto a bench in the hallway, my hands trembling as the weight of everything crashes down on me. Marco sits beside me, his presence steadying even as fear grips my chest.

“He’ll make it,” Marco says quietly. “He’s too stubborn not to.”

I nod, though the fear in my chest doesn’t ease. “I can’t lose him, Marco.”

“You won’t,” he replies. “Not after everything you two have been through.”

As dawn breaks,a doctor finally emerges from the operating room. She looks tired but calm, her expression giving me a flicker of hope.

“He’s stable,” she says gently. “The surgery went well, but the next 24 hours are critical.”

“Can I see him?” I ask, my voice trembling.

She hesitates, then nods. “For a few minutes.”

I stepinto the recovery room, my heart pounding as I approach Cooper’s bed. He looks pale and weak, his face drawn, but his chest rises and falls steadily. I sink into the chair beside him, taking his hand in mine.

“I’m here,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers twitch faintly, and I lean closer, my voice steady despite the fear threatening to overwhelm me. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. Just... don’t let go.”

As the machines beep softly around us, I make a promise to myself—and to him—that I won’t let him face this alone. No matter what.

39

ZOEY

The sterile walls of the hospital corridor seem to close in on me as I pace back and forth, the seconds dragging into minutes, the minutes into what feels like hours. My hands won’t stop trembling, and every time the doors to the operating room swing open, my breath catches, only to sink when it’s another nurse or doctor rushing past.

Marco sits on the bench near the wall, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. He hasn’t said much since we arrived, but his presence is steady, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.

“He’s strong,” Marco says quietly, breaking the silence. “He’ll make it.”

I stop pacing, turning to face him. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Marco replies, his voice firm. He looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine. “I’ve seen him survive things no one else could. He’s not done, Zoey. Not yet.”

His words offer a flicker of hope, but the fear gripping my chest refuses to let go. I sink onto the bench beside him, my handstwisting together in my lap. “What if this is the one thing he can’t come back from?”

Marco doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is softer, more vulnerable. “Then he’ll go knowing he fought for something worth fighting for.”

The hours stretch on,the steady rhythm of my pacing punctuated by the occasional squeak of a nurse’s shoes or the beep of a distant monitor. Every minute feels heavier than the last, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.

I think about everything that’s brought us here—the battles, the betrayals, the quiet moments that made it all worth it. I think about the way Cooper looked at me in the cabin, his eyes filled with determination and a love he couldn’t put into words.

I press my hands to my face, trying to block out the thought of losing him. But it’s there, lingering at the edges of my mind, refusing to be ignored.

Another hour passes,and I can’t sit still anymore. I start pacing again, my hands clutching at the edge of my sweater. Marco watches me quietly, his patience unyielding even as I wear a path into the tile floor.

“You should sit,” he says finally.

“I can’t,” I reply, my voice trembling. “Not until I know he’s okay.”

---