Page 103 of Born into Mayhem
Carlotta has enough sense to keep her head down as we follow her coworker through a door and down a hallway. She stops in front of a private room, opening the door for us and waving us in after her.
“You can wait in here. We have a cafeteria down the hall, and there’s a shower in the bathroom if you want to get cleaned up.” She eyes my bloody, bare chest. “I can find you some scrubs if you want.”
“How long until we know how my wife is doing?” I ask.
She meets my eyes, and whatever she sees in them, has her putting her hand to her chest and saying, “I give you my word,SignoreAlessi, I will tell you as soon as I hear anything.”
I get the feeling this woman is a hugger, but she wisely keeps space between us. I know she means well, but the thought of any other woman touching me feels so wrong that I’m afraid I might actually smack her if she tries to put her hands on me.
“Thank you,” I tell her and then take a step back, making it clear I don’t want or need her comfort. I just want Mia. That’s all I’ll ever want.
She makes a quick exit, and as soon as she’s gone, Sandro pulls his phone out and makes the call to our cousin while I step into the bathroom to wash Mia’s blood from my body. Everything inside me goes numb when I see myself in the mirror. Bloody hands grip the edge of the sink as I take in the brutal reminder of how much blood she’s lost. My eyes burn with the effort to not lose it in this fucking hospital bathroom while she’s in surgery fighting for her life.
Forcing myself to keep it together, I strip out of my ruined clothes and step into the shower. The hot water washes away the blood, but it’s also taking a piece of Mia away from me, and I regret my decision as soon as I see the red-tinged water disappear down the drain.
What if she doesn’t make it? What if she doesn’t survive and I’ve just willingly lost another piece of her?
The thought nearly sends me to my knees in a desperate attempt to get back what’s at this very moment slipping through my fingers and disappearing through the small grate at my feet. Fisting my hands, I smack the wall and force air into my too-tight lungs. I have to be strong for her. When she wakes, and shewillwake from this, she’s going to find me right next to her, more than ready to take care of her and be the support she needs.
I stay under the hot water. At some point Sandro cracks the door and sets a pair of dark blue scrubs on the counter for me, but it’s still several minutes before I can bring myself to actually move. I feel numb in a way I hadn’t thought possible. Going through the motions, I dry off and put the scrubs on, and when I step out, Sandro is pacing the floor. As soon as he sees me, he hands me a coffee and starts filling me in.
“Dominic is taking care of everything. They’ll be flying out within the hour. I spoke with Bruno. Sasha’s wound looks okay, or well enough. He stuck around long enough for Bruno to wrap it, and then he took off into the hills like a fucking madman.”
“He’ll come back when he’s sane enough,” I say, sitting down and taking a drink of the coffee. I barely notice how shitty it tastes. “Thanks, Sandro,” I tell him. I don’t bother asking if he’s heard anything about Mia. He would’ve barged into that bathroom to tell me if he had.
“Papàis watching over things at the house, but he wants me to call him as soon as we hear anything about Mia.” He walks over and squeezes my shoulder. “She’s going to survive this, Dario.”
“She better.” I meet my brother’s eyes when I say, “Because I won’t fucking survive it if she doesn’t.”
“She will,” he says, “and then you can spank her ass for jumping in front of a knife like that.”
I tighten my grip on the mug when I remember how she’d dove in between Uberto and me, not hesitating for a second before throwingher small body in front of the sharp blade. God, she and I are going to have a talk when she wakes up from this.
My brother and I sit in silence for a few minutes before I ask, “How’d Dominic take the news?”
“He’s just worried about you and Mia. Probably blames himself for not being here.” He leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out. “Worried about telling Nat.”
“If there was ever a chance that Lev wasn’t going to try and kill me for falling in love with his daughter, it’s long gone.” I scrub a hand over my face and sigh. “I don’t blame him. I deserve it after letting her get hurt.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sandro quickly says, but my baby brother is not going to be able to talk me out of the guilt I feel.
“It is,” I tell him. “When I saw her walk through the door, she was covered in blood, and my worry for her made me forget about everything else. If I’d kept my focus, I might have realized Uberto was going for his knife. I might’ve been able to stop him before she could get hurt.”
“And if I’d been paying attention, maybe I would’ve noticed Uberto was a fucking traitor to begin with and none of this would’ve happened,” he counters.
“We all missed it, brother. It’s not your fault.”
“And it’s not yours,” he says, and his stubbornness reminds me so much of Mia that I have to look away or risk falling apart again. God, I can’t remember the last time I cried, but now I can’t get my eyes to stay dry. I will never forgive Mia if she leaves me to be a big, sobbing baby without her. If I’m going to be this emotional, then I at least need her around so she can laugh at me and accuse me of being too sentimental. She made me this way. It’s only fair that she be around to suffer through it like I’m forced to.
My brother and I endure another painfully slow hour before we hear a loud commotion in the hall. A woman screams while another yells for help. We jump up to see what’s going on. Sandro beats me to the hall, gun already in hand, and when I see his shoulders relax, I letout the breath I’d been holding. Looking out the door, I see Sasha walking towards us while Carlotta scurries along behind him at a safe distance, yelling at him in Italian that she’s going to call the police. I’m guessing Carlotta will be quitting her job after tonight.
“Jesus,” Sandro whispers when Sasha reaches up to run a hand through his bloody hair. He’s coated in red, like he stopped to fucking bathe in it on his way here. It makes the whites of his eyes stand out against all the red, and all that does is highlight the dead look he’s wearing. He looks like he’s walked straight through hell to get here. I gotta hand it to Carlotta. The woman has some balls.
“He’s with us,” I tell her.
She puffs out her chest and gives me a stern look. “Why am I not surprised?” she mutters while Sandro gives a soft laugh.
Sasha continues to ignore her. He stops in front of us and asks, “How is she?”
