Page 95 of Until You Can't

“The team originally didn’t want Ryan to operate. From what I was told, they actually put him to sleep because he was so stubborn.”

You’re stalling, damnit.

“When shit went sideways, and the guys needed an assist, he was the only one who could go in and save them.”

I closed my eyes and fell back onto my heels, the weight of my body too heavy to remain upright.

“Our friends, Owen and Asher, went to rescue Anthony inside an auto body barn, and Asher was able to get Anthony out as planned with Owen providing cover. But then more guys unexpectedly flooded in, cornering him with no viable way out. The place caught fire, too, and . . .”

Oh my God.

“. . . Ryan ran in to help him. They took out the armed tangos together and were heading to exfil when the cars blew up. The guys weren’t right in the blast, which was good, but they were thrown from their feet.”

I covered my mouth, trying to keep the sobs at bay. Ryan’s head. Tears flew down my cheeks, my attempts to swipe them away with the back of my hand completely futile as I tried to hold myself together and not totally break down. Eventually, I stopped trying to fight the emotion and just let the floodgates open.

He was taking too long to get to the exact reason Ryan was in the hospital, which was such a bad sign.

“Asher ditched Anthony to head back and save them. Shockingly, Anthony went back and helped, too. But the structure was collapsing and—”

“So help me, Noah. Please, you’re making me wait to hear the end result. What do I not want to hear?” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Is Ryan going to be okay?”

Noah was quiet for a moment. “He’s in surgery,” he finally shared. “They found Ryan on top of Owen, shielding him with his body beneath a lot of debris, and well, part of the roof.”

“Surgery for what?” I cried.

“There was some internal bleeding in his chest from the trauma, and they’re working to contain that bleed. And they’re monitoring some minor brain swelling as well. There were also some burns, respiratory things from the fire, abrasions on his body, too.” He paused to let it sink in. “Ryan took the brunt of the trauma since he protected Owen, but he’ll pull through. Try to be optimistic. I, uh, thought you’d want to head to the hospital and be there when he wakes, though.”

I swallowed the fist-sized lump down my throat to answer, “Of course. I’ll find a way there. Please, um, keep me updated if anything changes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Noah said. “He’s tough. He’ll make it.”

“He has to.” I sniffled. “But three years ago, the doctor told him if he had another blow to the head, he may wake up but not remember who he is,” I whispered, my voice too hoarse and my heart too hurt to utter the words any louder.

“I, uh, don’t know, Natalia.”

I dropped the phone, leaving Noah waiting for a response. Dazed, I made my way to my feet and left the bedroom in search of Maurizio.

I finally found him awake and in the kitchen, and the color drained from his face when he saw me.

“It’s Ryan,” I cried, my lower lip trembling so bad I wasn’t sure if he heard me. “I need to get to the hospital in Monte Carlo. Can—can you help get me there?” I asked. He reached me just in time to catch me as I collapsed into his arms.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

NATALIA

“Hey, I’m Noah. We spoke on the phone.” Inside the private waiting room, a tall, well-built guy reached for my hand, but I threw myself at him instead. He flinched at the unexpected contact, then hugged me back. “Shh. It’s okay.” He smoothed his hand up and down my back a few times, murmuring, “He’ll be fine.”

I was probably soaking his tee with my tears, but he didn’t seem to care and continued to comfort me as I got my emotions back under control. I had a feeling the other men in there that looked like they’d been to hell and back were also Ryan’s friends. I’d need to face them in a second and not be a total disaster. “I’m sorry.” I finally pulled myself together and stepped free from his embrace. “This is Ryan’s uncle, Maurizio.”

Maurizio shook his hand, both men probably grateful to avoid an awkward hug, and then Noah turned his attention to the others in the room. Four men and one woman were there, regarding us with what could have been sympathy or empathy depending on what Noah was about to tell us.

“Just before you got here, the doctor told us Ryan’s surgery was a success.” When Noah revealed the incredible news, I went right back into his arms again, nearly collapsing with relief.

“Thank God,” I cried.

“The bleed was contained, and the swelling in his brain came down on its own, so they didn’t need to induce him into a coma. The doc said he’s lucky given his prior head injuries,” Noah went on.

I peeled myself free from his embrace a moment later and swiped at my cheeks, struggling to get my voice to operate. “Is he awake yet?”

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