Chapter 13 - THE NIGHT I ALMOST LOST MARCO
Marco was unconscious when we reached the hospital.
Machines surrounded him.
Doctors moved quickly.
I stood outside the intensive care unit while the world narrowed to a glass door.
Alessandro remained beside me.
Not touching.
Not speaking.
Just there.
Dr. Marconi—Elena—finally emerged.
Her face told me everything.
“How bad?”
“His heart rhythm is unstable.”
“Can you fix it?”
“We're trying.”
I hated that answer.
I grabbed the wall.
“He's twenty-three.”
“I know.”
“He survived everything else.”
“I know.”
“Then fix him.”
My voice broke.
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
“We will do everything possible.”
I sank into a chair.
Alessandro knelt in front of me.
“Isabella.”
“I can't lose him.”
“You won't face this alone.”
“I didn't ask—”
“I know.”
That stopped me.
I looked at him.
He took my hands.
“You don't have to be strong every second.”
The sentence broke something inside me.
For years, I'd been the responsible one.
The older sister.
The person who worked more shifts.
Paid bills.
Made phone calls.
Smiled when Marco was scared.
I started crying.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
Alessandro pulled me against him.
I cried into his shoulder.
He held me.
Hours passed.
Salvatore arrived despite his own injuries.
Sofia came.
Elena stayed.
Even my manager from the restaurant brought coffee and refused payment.
At 3:12 A.M., the doctor returned.
“Marco is stable.”
My entire body went weak.
“He's alive?”
“Yes.”
I covered my mouth.
The doctor continued.
“He'll need additional treatment, but we believe the heart damage is manageable.”
I began sobbing again.
Alessandro laughed softly behind me.
Marco woke the next afternoon.
His first words were,
“Did Bella finally sleep?”
I wanted to strangle him.
Instead, I kissed his forehead.
“You almost died and you're still annoying.”
“Consistency matters.”
He smiled weakly.
Then he looked toward Alessandro.
“You.”
Alessandro raised an eyebrow.
“Me.”
“If you hurt my sister, I'll destroy you.”
I stared at Marco.
“You can barely sit up.”
“Still serious.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“So am I.”
Marco studied him.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
I looked between them.
“Was that some kind of male ritual?”
“Yes,” they answered together.
I rolled my eyes.
That evening, Alessandro and I stood on the hospital roof.
The Chicago skyline glowed in the distance.
He leaned against the railing.
“I need to tell you something.”
I looked at him.
“That sentence has ruined my week several times.”
He smiled.
“This isn't a secret.”
“That's new.”
“I've decided to leave the organization.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The illegal parts. All of it.”
“Can you?”
“It won't be easy.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the city.
“Because I don't want to become my father. Or Vincent. Or Gallo.”
Then he looked at me.
“And because when you grabbed my wrist that night, you reminded me I still had control over the kind of man I became.”
My throat tightened.
“You already made the choice.”
“You made me see it.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then he stepped closer.
“Isabella.”
“Yes?”
“I want to kiss you.”
My heart stopped.
“That's unusually polite.”
“I'm learning.”
I smiled.
“Slowly.”
He touched my face.
“May I?”
I nodded.
He kissed me.
Gentle.
Warm.
Nothing like the violent world surrounding him.
When we pulled apart, I laughed softly.
“What?”
“You waited this long?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Don't ruin the moment.”
I smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked the message.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A photograph.
Vincent Moretti's hospital room.
Empty.
The guards unconscious.
May you like
And written across the wall in black marker:
ONE LAST DEBT.
