Page 142 of Mafia King of Lies

“Get them out of here,” I demand, my voice hoarse, desperation threading through every word. “Now. Both of them. Don’t waste time.”

Valerio rushes in, his body splattered with blood—none of it his. His eyes sweep over the scene, and he curses under his breath when he sees Giacomo lying dead, a bullet hole in his skull.

I allow the paramedics to take her from me, to do their job—to get her to the hospital.

I rise to my feet, pressing down the emotions threatening to break loose.

There’s no time. We need to take care of this mess. The last thing I need is the authorities on my ass.

“I need this handled,” I say to my second. “We need everything cleaned up—quickly and quietly. Call the governor. And the congresswoman.”

“Got it, boss.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “They’ll be okay.”

I know words are meant to serve as encouragement, but they do nothing to ease the despair in my chest.

The paramedics move swiftly—loading Daniele’s body onto a stretcher, then Maria.

The life in her is fading fast, but they’re not going to let her go without a fight. I follow them, my steps unsteady, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a hammer.

I barely register the movement around me: the sound of the ambulance doors slamming shut, the rush of people speaking in low, urgent voices.

My mind is consumed by one thought, one singular focus: my family. My wife and son.

The journey between the cabin and the hospital is nothing but a blur. My mind is too lost in the events of what happened to fully comprehend much.

I sit beside her, my fingers wrapped around hers so tightly, my grip a silent plea to keep her here. I’m afraid I might crush her, but I need to feel her—need to make sure she’s still here.

We reach the hospital, and the moment the ambulance comes to a stop, the doors are flung open. I don’t wait. I don’t even hesitate.

I follow Maria and Daniele as they’re rushed into the emergency room, watching helplessly as the team works to keep them tethered to the land of the living.

Time becomes a blur after that, seconds dragging like hours. I’ve lost track—minutes, hours? I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in the sterile waiting room. All I know is I’m sitting there, a prisoner of my own thoughts.

I can’t focus. My mind is a storm of fears. The waiting room is filled with the dull hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional shuffle of footsteps, but all I hear is the loud thudding of my own heart.

Valerio sits beside me, his face pale and drawn, his hands clasped so tightly I can almost see his knuckles turning white. Dario and Ginny sit across from us, her head resting on her husband’s shoulder as we wait for news on either of them.

“They will make it out, Matteo. They are fighters.” Valerio places his hand on my shoulder. “They will be fine.”

I don’t answer him because he doesn’t know that. No one knows the outcome of what is happening in those operating rooms.

My entire world is on the other side of those doors, and I am helpless to do anything to fix their pain.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open. A doctor in a green surgical gown steps inside—his faceimpassive, his eyes tired. He walks straight toward me, and I can’t read his expression well enough to know if he’s carrying good news… or the kind that breaks you.

The four of us rise from our seats, waiting for him to speak.

“Mr. Davacalli,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “Your wife is out of surgery. She had significant internal bleeding, but we were able to stop it. We also placed a shunt in her chest to drain excess fluid.”

“And the baby?”

“The baby’s fine. Strong heartbeat.” He offers me a small smile. “Maria is still unconscious, but I can take you back to see her.”

A rush of relief floods me, my chest tightening in a way that almost hurts. I stare at the doctor, trying to process what he’s just said, but his words barely register.

But the relief is short-lived.

“What about Daniele?”

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