Page 143 of Beneath the Shadows

Twisted satisfaction curls through me knowing Draco’s remains have been left in some cold, forgotten place. Gone. Forever erased from this world—except the hell he left behind for Alessia.

But it’s not enough. His death doesn’t undo the damage he caused.

“How’s Alessia?” Dante asks, his tone gentler now.

“They’re still running tests,” I say, the knot in my stomach tightening.

“I’m on my way to meet with Moretti’s second-in-command now,” he continues. “I need to be sure they don’t retaliate for this. I’ll let him know what Draco did to Alessia and the—” Dante’s voice falters, but he quickly corrects himself. “To Alessia. I’m hoping when he hears the full extent, he’ll see reason.”

A doctor enters, his face grim. “I have to go,” I say, ending the call.

I move to stand, but the doctor raises a hand. “No need, Mr. Luciano. You can stay seated.” I ignore him, pushing to my feet as every muscle in my body tenses. Standing makes the pain in my ribs flare, but it grounds me. “I’m Dr. Hill, I’ve been overseeing your wife’s care.”

“How is she?”

"Mrs. Luciano’s injuries are quite extensive.” He pauses. “Two broken ribs, a concussion, and multiple contusions all over her body.”

My heart slams against my chest. The air in my lungs becomes harder to find.

“We’re monitoring both her and the baby closely.”

“The baby?” I ask, unable to comprehend his words.

The doctor hesitates, his tone gentler now. “Alessia’s eight weeks pregnant. The baby has a strong heartbeat, but given her injuries, we need to keep them both under observation for the next few days to ensure they remain stable.”

The room spins. I stumble back, gripping the bed’s edge to keep myself upright.

Pregnant. Alessia is pregnant.

The doctor continues, but his voice sounds distant, muffled. Something about the ICU, monitoring her, keeping her stable. His words blur together, drowned out by the single fact echoing in my mind—Alessia’s pregnant. She and our baby were nearly beaten to death.

“I need to see her.”

The doctor looks wary, hesitant. “The police are on their way. It would be best if you spoke to them first.”

Rage flares hot and fast, but I rein it in. Barely. “I’m not answering a damn thing until I see my wife. The police can wait.”

The doctor tenses. Then, an unspoken understanding passes between us. He knows who I am, knows there’s no use arguing. After a long pause, he exhales. “Alright,” he says quietly, resignation in his voice. “Follow me.”

* * *

I’m led down the hall to her room. The moment I see her, my legs falter, forcing me to grab the doorframe for support. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. All I can do is stand there, frozen, unable to process reality.

“I know it’s difficult to see someone you care about like this. But for now, she’s stable,” Dr. Hill says. “What she needs most is to rest and heal.”

His words barely register. My gaze is locked on Alessia, lying so still, surrounded by wires and machines that beep in the background. Her face is battered and swollen. She looks so tiny and fragile.

“Come in and sit with her.” The nurse who’s adjusting her IV says.

My legs feel heavy as I move toward the bed.

“I’m Alora, one of the nurses taking care of your wife,” she says softly, offering a kind smile. “I’ll be just outside. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Unable to find my voice, I nod and stumble to the chair beside Alessia’s bed. My hand reaches for hers instinctively. It’s so cold. I swallow hard, trying to push down the storm of emotions threatening to consume me.

When Alora finishes, she hesitates for a moment, then reaches into her pocket and hands me something—a small piece of paper. “This is for you,” she whispers.

My hands tremble as I take it. I look down at the grainy, black-and-white image. It takes me a moment to process what I’m looking at. When I realize what it is, my heart skips a beat.

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