Chapter 7 - The Healing Touch"Get the medical team! Now!" I screamed to Marco, kneeling on the floor, supporting Vincent's head in my lap.
Vincent lay against me, his face pale, his breathing heavy, but his dark eyes remained locked onto mine, filled with a quiet, unyielding warmth.
"I told you... I keep my promises," Vincent rasped out, a faint smile touching his lips.
"You idiot," I wept, tears streaming down my face, pressing my good hand against the gunshot wound on his right side to stop the bleeding. "Don't you dare die on me, Vincent! Don't you dare!"
Within minutes, the estate’s medical team rushed into the hallway, lifting Vincent onto a gurney and rushing him to the surgical suite downstairs.
For three agonizing hours, I sat in the waiting room outside the operating room, refusing to leave, refusing to rest, despite my own healing arm aching terribly.
At 4:00 AM, the chief surgeon stepped out into the hallway, pulling down his surgical mask.
"Miss Lena," the surgeon said, offering a reassuring smile. "The bullet passed clean through his oblique muscle without hitting any major organs or arteries. We cleared the tissue, stitched the wound, and administered antibiotics. Mr. Moretti is fully stabilized and resting in his room."
A wave of profound, overwhelming relief swept over me so hard my legs gave out. Marco caught me, guiding me gently to a chair.
Ten minutes later, I walked quietly into Vincent's bedroom.
He lay in the large bed, his chest wrapped in clean white bandages, hooked up to an IV line. He was awake, looking out the window at the morning sun breaking over the mountains.
When he heard my footsteps, he turned his head slowly, his eyes lighting up.
"You should be resting, Lena," he murmured, his voice raspy.
I walked over to the bed, sitting gently on the edge of the mattress. Without a word, I reached out my good hand, intertwining my fingers with his large, calloused hand, holding it tightly against my heart.
"You took a bullet for me," I whispered, tears shining in my eyes.
"I would burn this entire city down for you, Lena," Vincent stated, his voice completely devoid of hesitation, his grip on my hand tightening with fierce, absolute devotion.
May you like
I leaned down, pressing my forehead softly against his cheek, smelling the rain and cedar on his skin.
The fear that had ruled my life for five years was completely gone. In its place was a quiet, unbreakable truth: I had found my home in the arms of the most feared man in New York.
Related Stories
