Page 100 of Enzo
“Hey,” she rasped.
She touched her head, making sure her hat was still in place. I reached over and helped straighten it.
“Hey, littlest one,” I said, dropping down into the chair by her bedside.
“You look tired,” she said softly.
I let out a dry chuckle and waved it off.
“Just a work thing.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie. I hadn’t slept in days. Most of my time now was spent taking over Atticus’s operation, one name at a time. And the rest? Chasing a match for Amara. It was the most important thing; the only thing that mattered.
“You work too much.” She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes.
I reached for her hand. It was frail, wrapped in tape and IV tubes, and I couldn’t help but notice how wrong it looked inside my calloused one.
“I’ve got a favor to ask,” I said quietly. “A big one. And I can only ask it of my favorite sister-in-law.”
“I’m youronlysister-in-law,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“But still my favorite.”
Her smiles required more effort now, and I cherished every single one.
“I need you to hold on, Amara. Just a little longer. I’m close to finding a match.”
Her eyes lingered on mine.
“A match?” she repeated slowly.
“Yeah.” I couldn’t explain more. Not yet. Not safely.
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment before looking back at me, her gaze piercing.
“Will someone have to die?”
I looked away.
My jaw clenched because I couldn’t lie. Not to her.
I’d planned on dismantling the organ trafficking organization, but knowing Amara wouldn’t survive much longer without a transplant, I intended to use the resources of Organs of the Night to find one for her. Even if it meant someone else had to die. I’d bear the consequences and I’d pay for those sins gladly if it meant she lived. For her family. For her sister. For all of us.
“People die every day,” I said, but the words tasted bitter.
She didn’t blink.
“But is this person going to bekilledbecause they’re a match?”
I swallowed hard. The truth sat heavy in my throat, refusing to come out. When had I become such a coward?
I looked back at her. Her eyes, glassy and fever-bright, were locked on mine.
“Amara, think of your family. Your sister. Think of me,” I said, my voice cracking. “I know you’re in pain, but please hang on.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, my voice coiled with guilt and desperation.
“I don’t want to trade my life for someone else’s,” she murmured. “That’s not fair. I know I’m still young, but I feel old and so tired. I don’t want to keep doing this.”
