Page 33 of Devour
All those years I missed his first steps, his first words. All the things I should’ve done with him. Why didn’t she tell me? My hand tightens around the steering wheel.
My jaw clenches. A voice in the back of my mind whispers,What if he’s not yours? What if she was fucking someone else while she was with you?Fuck. That can’t be.It can’t be.
My already loosened tie starts to feel like a noose. With one hand on the wheel, I yank it off with the other, throwing it to the passenger seat.
I pull up in front of her house. No hesitation. No breath. I march straight to the door and start banging like a man half-crazed.
“Ariel, open the damn door. I know you’re in there.” I pound again, this time softer. “Kitten,” I say, bringing my voice down, “I just want to talk.”
Still no answer. Jaw clenched, I yank my phone from my pocket. A few taps and I’m calling her. It rings and rings, then cuts to voicemail. I call again.
“Goddammit, woman. Pick up the damn phone.” Voicemail. Again. Enough of this. I scroll to Ray—short for Raymond, one of my guards assigned to keep eyes on her.
Only a few people—my family—know about my ties to the mob. Those who do call me Don or boss. Ray and the guards? They don’t ask questions. They just follow orders. He answers on the second ring.
“Mr. Falcone.”
“Where is she?” I’m already striding back toward my car as I speak.
“She’s at Ashgrove Medical."
My steps freeze.
“And why the hell wasn’t that reported to me?”
There’s a pause. Too long.
“We didn’t think it was… worth reporting.”
Fuck, I need to have a talk with my head of security.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Ariel
I’m ushered outside the room as nurses rush in. My hands are trembling, and tears stream down my face unchecked.
Through the transparent glass, I can still see Noah—his small body so still now, wires trailing from his chest, the machines beeping faster than I can breathe.
Dr. Eli had told me earlier that Noah’s fever had spiked again, that’s why he’d been trying to reach me. It broke around 1:18 a.m., and for a moment, I truly believed we were in the clear. I even dared to hope he was getting better.
My phone kept blaring in my pocket, but I was consumed with worry, with watching every shallow breath he took, with holding onto him like my presence could somehow keep him safe.
I’d touched his face, stroked his clammy skin, and whispered promises against his ear, promises that we’d go home soon, that this nightmare would finally be over. But then… he seized. Right there in front of me.
The color drained from his face, his little limbs convulsed, and I couldn’t do anything but scream for help. Now I’m out here useless while they try to stabilize him again.
The doctors still don’t know what’s causing the sudden setback. The nurses already drew blood earlier, but we’re still waiting on answers. And I’m breaking.
I just stood there and watched while the doctors tried to stop his convulsions. I heard my name, but it sounded distantlike it was being called from underwater. I turned to my left, and there he was.
Luca.
Standing there. I wanted to run into his arms and cry my eyes out against his broad chest, but I couldn’t move. I just stood there, trembling, silent tears streaming down my face.
He steps closer, and for a second, I think I might fall apart completely. His hand reaches out—hesitant at first, then firm as he cups my elbow and steadies me. The warmth of his touch nearly undone me.
“Ariel,” he says softly, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. “Talk to me. What happened?”
