Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“Primary survey?”
“Right hemothorax. Lacerated wound over the left arm. Multiple gunshot and pellet wounds over the whole body. No obvious fractures.”
The voice of the man on my left is clear. “Insert a chest tube.”
The ceiling stops cruising. Finally. It doesn’t prevent that wave of nausea from drowning me. Several pairs of hands lock on to me, and then I’m hoisted into the air. My back hits a hard surface. There’s no pain, at least not the physical kind. Only the agony of not knowing if it’s a boy or a girl.
The sound coming from my right is fainter. “I need a FAST and CT thorax. Prepare for an emergency laparotomy.”
“Pleural cavity incision made. Proceeding with thoracostomy.”
My body is prodded and manhandled.
“Bleeding in right ear possibly due to primary blast injury. Second degree burn wounds on the upper shoulders and back.”
Anya.
The whisper refuses to materialize from my vocal cords, so I breathe in her name instead.
“Draining in progress.”
“Let’s get him into surgery.”
A quieter, subdued tone reaches inside my dimming consciousness. “This guy isn’t going to make it.”
If I could, I would’ve laughed. The goal was never about surviving. I fucking know I’m dead. I just hoped it would be quick. But if it means Anya made it, I’ll bleed out all over this gurney again.
Chapter
Two
Anya
* * *
I drift in a blue sky with little black soundless birds that float near the clouds. The trees with their branches weighed down with snow are visible far below, but the cold doesn’t reach into the picture. There’s no smell or sensation, only the hum of static noise.
I admire the portrait.
How pretty.
Beautiful.
The word pulls at my mind, conjuring a memory.
I sit in a car, staring at the face of a man.
A beautiful man.
We get out of the car and step into the painting with the blue sky and the black birds. A bell tower rises into the air, its shadow falling askew over the ground. Something about the image stirs my heart into a gallop.
I will myself to remember.
This is important.
I fight the blue and the black, struggling through the sky and the birds to reach that handsome man and the memory that evade me. Swiping at the silk threads that trap me like a butterfly in a cocoon, I push harder.
A sound breaks through—a beep—and then a steady series of beeps like the beat of a heart.
A man’s heart beats under my ear where my cheek is pressed on his hard chest. Gauzy curtains lift in the breeze. A big hand draws soft patterns over my back. I’m stretched out on top of him, his naked skin warm against mine and his broad torso a pillow for my head. Intertwining my fingers, I rest my chin on my hands and gaze into the bluest of blues, a color like heaven and tears. He reaches out and twists a lock of my hair around his finger with a smile that heats me like the sun.
Golden flames wink from the shadows. The light turns bright orange and white. The scene changes as color explodes around us.
I lie beneath him while he frames my face between his hands.
“You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
Blood.
Red splotches on a white wedding dress.
“Remember what I told you about the money and the key in the safe.”
Flames.
And then it all comes rushing back.
“No!”
I jackknife into a sitting position, gasping at the pain that slices through my lower body.
My baby.
I cup my flat stomach.
“My baby!”
“Anya, calm down.” Hands grip my shoulders, pushing me flat. “You’re all right. Your baby is fine.”
I focus on the voice. It’s familiar.
A face comes into my vision, hovering over me—blond hair, brown eyes.
Dante, Saverio’s second-in-command.
I surge upright again, gulping for air.
“Easy now,” he says, holding fast.
“No!”
“Listen to me.” He shakes me softly. “Your baby is fine.”
My mouth is parched. My throat feels like sandpaper inside. It hurts to speak, but I force the words from my lips. “The explosion.”
He tightens his fingers on my shoulders. “Your friends are fine. Livy, Tersia, and Richard made it out. Unharmed.”
I grab the lapel of his jacket. “Saverio.”
A veil drops in front of his eyes. He lets me down slowly. Gently.
“Saverio,” I croak.
Dante’s tone is strained. “He’s alive.”
Alive.
I curl my fingers into a tight ball, fisting the fabric, unwilling to let go. “I want to see him. Take me to him. Take me to him and my baby.”
He pries my fingers open, frees his jacket, and lowers my hand to the white covers that are tucked around me. Watching me with a wary expression, he straightens behind the barrier of a metal rail on the side of the bed.
I take in my surroundings. I’m in a white bed in a white room with a monitor beeping next to me.
A hospital.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Mount Sinai.”
There’s no crib beside the bed.
“Where’s my baby?”