Page 45 of Ruined By the Enemy
The air around me thins out. My pulse slows to a crawling halt. “Who?” I already know.
He sucks in a deep breath. “Sophie.”
***
I’m out of the car before it stops in front of the hospital, swinging through the door with paced strides.Sophie.
Raffaele didn’t say how the accident happened—or rather, I didn’t wait to listen. He said she was alive, and that was good enough for me.
His steps overtake mine as I reach the nurses’ station, and he points ahead. “She’s in the emergency department,” he says.
I don’t thank him or speak. I can’t. Not when my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my heart is threatening to explode.
Iknowshe’sokay, but I keep picturing her as she walked into the building—alive, vibrant, despite how tightly wired I felt at seeing her. And then another image—the car wreck.
The emergency wing hums with low voices and the occasional beeping of machines.
I don’t remember navigating the maze of hallways—only the thin curtain pulled halfway shut, the faint shadow of movement behind it, and the burn in my chest when I hear her voice.
“Mr. Moretti?”
The curtain gives way as I push it, and the sight hits me like a punch. She’s sitting on a narrow hospital bed, knees tucked beneath a thin gown, a bruise blooming across her collarbone. A white bandage curves over her left temple, catching a strand of messy hair.
Her lips part when she sees me. “I knew it was you.”
“How did it happen?” It’s a rhetorical question, but it’s the only thing I can muster other than the storm swirling inside me.
She exhales, tired but steady. “I don’t know. When I tried to avoid a truck, my car spun, and I clipped the rail. Nothing dramatic.”
The cut on her head says otherwise.
A nurse steps in with a clipboard, oblivious to the tension threading the tiny space. She gives me a brief look. “From all indications, Miss Greco looks fine. Just some bruising and a cut. We should be releasing her tonight, unless something else comes up.”
I nod, but I don’t look away from Sophie. The nurse disappears.
She speaks again, softer now. “They wanted to make sure I wasn’t concussed. I’m not. Just… tired.”
More than that.The spark in her eyes when I found her the second time has faded into something that flickers in and out like a dying bulb. The light wasn’t with me, her smile was for someone else, but seeing it leave makes my throat too clogged to swallow.
Fear.
That’s what it is. She’s trying hard to mask it, but I catch the way she tugs the short sleeve of the hospital gown and blinks quickly, holding back tears.
My fingers curl on each side, swamped with the need to offer her comfort. I want to cross over and wrap my arms gently around her… to ease the fear, even just for tonight.
“You could’ve told me you were leaving,” I say hoarsely. “I would’ve had my driver take you home.”
Her laugh is dry. “We both know that wouldn’t have happened. I was supposed to stay the entire night—” She lowers her headand rubs her arm. “But I flaked out with an excuse that you probably didn’t buy.”
Her sheepish admission makes me smile, just before my phone rings.
“I have to take this,” I say, but I linger a bit before leaving, reluctant to let her out of my sight.
“The accident,” Raffaele says when I answer the phone, “it’s still inconclusive, but the cops are saying it might not have been an accident.”
I look over my shoulder as my fingers curl into metal and glass. “You’re saying she was targeted?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. They’re not telling me anything, so it’s still a speculative opinion. I’ll stay here a little longer and tell you what I found.” He holds for a moment. “She’s okay, right? I’d hate to think that someone had it out for her.”
