Page 85 of Shot For Mercy

“Don’t say that,” Matteo snaps. “He has to make it out of this.”

He does, doesn’t he? I can’t imagine a world without my Cole in it. I never saw him as more than my son’s best friend, not until he got out of prison, but I can’t deny I’ve always cared for him. And how couldn’t I? He’s… him. Cole lights up every room he enters. He’s the life of the party.

And now? He’s everything I could’ve ever asked for. He’s everything I need. I love him so much, it’s incapacitating. I can’t even blame Matteo for loving him, too. What’s not to love?

“You’re right.” I run a hand through my hair and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. “He does have to make it out of this.”

The nurse comes in right then, sitting across from us, and her face says it all. She doesn’t have great news. Fuck.

My heart drops, my stomach flips, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. I have to be strong for Cole and for my son. I can’t be the one to break down. Not right now. Not again.

“His heart stopped twice during surgery,” she says, and my breath catches in my throat. “We were able to get it restarted, thankfully. He’s almost done. They’re just stitching him up right now. He’ll be going to the ICU right after, and he’ll recover there. Only one person will be able to stay with him.”

I nod. “It will be me.”

Matteo scoffs, but I don’t give a fuck. Cole needs me, and he’s with me. Until he wakes up and tells me he doesn’t want me anymore, he’s still mine. I really don’t care what Matteo has to say about it.

Ican’tcare.

All that matters is Cole.

Iopen my eyes to find myself in a bright room with white walls. I blink repeatedly, trying to make sense of where I am. The last thing I remember is being in that place with Sokolov—what looked like a basement. I can still smell the death in that room, even though I’m clearly not there anymore. Can still feel the way he whipped me, the way I woke up with water coming out of my mouth and nose as they pumped my chest. I should’ve known they wouldn’t have mercy on me and let me drown myself.

I turn my head to look around the room, just to notice Emiliano sitting at the side of the bed, his cheek resting on the firm mattress. There are purple bags under his eyes, and one of his hands is curled up in my blankets. I try to move and wince, the pain in my chest debilitating.

Sokolov shot me.

He fucking shot me.

I shouldn’t even be surprised; he did tell me he was going to kill me, but I didn’t think he’d have enough time to pull the trigger once Emiliano got to him. All I remember is the shot ringing out and the burning pain in my chest. Then everything went dark and fuzzy around the edges. I was so cold. So, so cold. But Emiliano was steadfast in his faith. He had faith in me. That I would pull through. I still remember the way he encouraged me in the car. I don’t remember much else, but I’ll always remember that.

I try to speak but wheeze instead. Fuck, my throat is so dry, and it hurts like a bitch. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to swallow, but failing to do so. It takes me another minute to compose myself, to gather enough strength to try again.

“Em,” I whisper, then try to clear my throat. He stirs, and I thread my fingers through his hair softly. He seems to like that, nuzzling closer to me, until he realizes what’s going on and wakes with a start. My hand falls to the side as he sits straight up and looks at me with parted lips. “Water, please.”

“Cole.”

I stare expectantly, and he snaps out of it, helping me with the cup. Fuck, I feel useless. I can’t remember the last time I needed someone to help me this way. Maybe never.

Emiliano places the cup back on the side table after a few sips, and I try to sit up, which is a horrible idea. The wounds on my back pull tighter, and my chest is on fire. He seems to get the idea, though, and raises me to a sitting position with the button on the side. I sigh in relief as I finally get into the position I want to be in, but wince in pain when I try to move.

There’s suddenly a knock at the door, and a nurse comes in with a bright smile. She looks way too happy to be here, something I’m definitely not, but I don’t want to be grumpy with her, so I swallow down my comment and look over at Em. He’s frowning as he looks at me, and I frown right back. Why is he so upset? Did something else happen? I grab his hand and hold it just as the nurse comes to the other side of the bed and checks the bags hanging from the hook.

Nurse Molly asks me if I’m in pain, which I obviously say yes to, and she scans the pain medication vial and asks for my name and date of birth. She goes through the motions rather quickly, and when she’s finally done, she tells me to press the call light button if I need her. We’re left alone a moment later, the silence suffocating, and I look at Emiliano’s face. What I see almost breaks me. His face is red, his eyes watery as he looks at me. But there’s so much pain in his eyes that I know it’s not just about me being here. No, this is about Matteo.

I nod slowly, squeezing his hand once, and say, “I’m sorry.”

“You hurt me,” he says without hesitation. “You really fucking hurt me.”

My eyes sting as I look at him, but I don’t make excuses for myself. “I’m so sorry, Em. I made a mistake?—”

“You love him, Cole.” He shakes his head. “How is that a mistake?”

I shake my head too now. “What I feel for him will never be what I feel for you. I’m in love with you. I’ll always chooseyou.”

“But—”

“No,” I plead, begging him to understand. “Please don’t do this. Don’t.”

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