Page 57 of The Mafia's Second Shot

“He hasn’t,” I chime in, smiling sweetly. “Yet.”

Angelo laughs, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You must be the only one who can keep him in line, Zoey.”

“She’s got a talent,” Cooper mutters, shooting me a look that’s equal parts annoyance and affection.

The teasing begins almost immediately.

“You know,” Marco says, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “I think you just wanted a vacation, boss. Could’ve picked something less dramatic than getting stabbed.”

Cooper rolls his eyes. “If this is your idea of a vacation, remind me to fire you.”

Angelo laughs. “You know he’d be lost without us. Who else is going to bring him contraband burgers?”

He holds up the bag, and Cooper’s eyes light up slightly. “You actually brought me a burger?”

“Don’t let the nurses catch you,” Marco says, handing it over. “They’ll ban us from visiting.”

Cooper takes the bag with a faint smirk. “This might be the only good thing you’ve done all week.”

“Careful,” Angelo says. “We might take offense to that.”

The banter continues,light and easy, filling the room with a warmth I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in weeks, it feels like the weight of the world has lifted, even if only temporarily.

“So,” Marco says, turning to me, “what’s it like babysitting him full-time?”

“It’s exhausting,” I reply, pretending to be serious. “I’ve had to hide his phone twice, and he tried to convince a nurse to let him out yesterday.”

“I didn’t try to convince her,” Cooper protests, though his faint grin gives him away. “I was just... asking questions.”

“Right,” I say, arching an eyebrow. “Totally innocent.”

The crew’slaughter echoes in the small room, and for a moment, it feels like we’re all part of something bigger than just survival. This isn’t just about Cooper or me—it’s about the family we’ve built, the people who’ve stood by us through everything.

As the conversation continues, I catch Cooper watching me out of the corner of his eye, his expression softer than usual. It’s a look that says more than words ever could.

And in that moment, surrounded by laughter and teasing, I realize that maybe, just maybe, we’ve found a new kind of peace. One we’ll fight to hold onto, no matter what.

41

ZOEY

The hospital room is quiet except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the occasional rustle of Cooper shifting in his bed. He’s resting now, his face pale but peaceful, and for the first time in what feels like days, my chest doesn’t feel so tight.

Marco and Angelo arrive mid-morning, carrying coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Their easy camaraderie fills the space, a reminder that the world outside is still moving forward, even as ours feels suspended. Marco sets the food on the small table near the window, his usual smirk softened by concern.

“You look better than the last time I saw you,” Marco says, nodding toward Cooper.

“Low bar,” Cooper murmurs, his voice rough from disuse.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “He’s been trying to convince the nurses to let him leave.”

Marco raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. “And where exactly do you think you’re going, boss? You’re not even cleared to sit up for long.”

“Anywhere but here,” Cooper replies, but his faint smile betrays the truth—he’s still too weak to go anywhere, and he knows it.

As Marcoand Angelo settle in, their conversation turns to the aftermath of the battle. I listen quietly, piecing together the fragments of their updates.

“Rossi’s crew is falling apart,” Marco says, sipping his coffee. “With him gone, the power vacuum’s hitting hard. The lieutenants are fighting among themselves, and the smaller factions are either disbanding or looking for alliances.”

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