Page 113 of Of Lies and Shadows

Dante’s jaw clenches, but his touch never falters. “I know. I know, my love.”

I stare at him, really stare, and the weight of everything crashes over me. The gun. The car. The pain. Alessio’s terrified face.

The last thing I remember is warmth blooming across my chest as I shielded the boy I’ve come to love like my own.

But now… it’s this. Dante, leaning over me, his eyes glassy, brushing my hair back like I’m a miracle he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again.

“Fulvio?” I ask weakly.

His gaze darkens. “Gone,” he says without hesitation. “He’ll never bother anyone again.”

“Good.” I wince as I shift, pain flaring through my side. “I hope you made him suffer.”

That earns a crooked smile. “Look at my little wife being bloodthirsty,” he teases, something reverent in his voice. “I like that.”

He leans down and kisses the back of my hand. “Let me call the nurse,” he says softly. “And then the kids. They’ve been asking for you every hour.”

“Lucia?” I whisper. “Alessio?”

“Lucia’s been drawing you pictures,” he says, rising from the chair. “And Alessio…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “Hehasn’t let go of the teddy you gave him. Keeps saying you saved him. Because you did.”

I close my eyes, the tears slipping freely now.

“Tell them I’m okay.”

He bends, pressing his lips gently to my temple. “I will,” he says. “But they’re going to want to hear it from you.”

He turns to the door, and I hear his voice catch as he calls for the nurse. The weight of everything hasn’t passed yet, but for now, hope flickers where fear once lived.

The knock on the door is soft. A moment later, the doctor steps in, clipboard in hand, his expression drawn with the kind of exhaustion that comes from standing too often between life and death. Dante follows close behind and moves straight to my side.

“Open your mouth, love,” he murmurs gently, holding a spoonful of ice chips to my lips.

The first touch of cold is heaven, melting slowly on my tongue, soothing the raw ache in my throat. I close my eyes for a moment just to feel it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Forzi,” the doctor says with quiet warmth. “It’s good to see you awake. You gave us quite a scare.”

I manage the barest nod, too heavy for words.

“You were lucky,” he continues. “Very lucky. The bullet missed any major arteries by a breath. We had to remove your spleen, and you lost a significant amount of blood. You flatlined for twenty-seven seconds on the table. But your heart wanted to fight.”

At that, Dante’s hand tightens around mine. A silent vow. A tether that keeps me here.

“Your vitals are stable now, and the worst has passed. But the next few days will be critical. You’ll be weak, and your immune system will need time to adjust. If you rest and let your body heal, there’s no reason you won’t make a full recovery.”

“Thank you.”

He gives a respectful nod before slipping out, leaving only the hush of machines and the weight of what almost was.

It takes two more days before I feel remotely like myself. I still tire too easily. My chest throbs with every deep breath. I’ve seen the kids through video calls. Lucia’s sweet face pressed to the screen, her voice trembling as she tried not to cry. Alessio lurking just off camera, pretending not to listen, though I knew better.

But I miss them. Desperately. There’s an aching quiet in this hospital room without their laughter, without their squabbles and songs and wild, perfect chaos.

My father hasn’t come. Not that I wanted him to or that Dante or Bruno would’ve let him within a hundred feet of this room.

Dante says it’s only a matter of time before he’s gone. And I believe him. I don’t ask how. I don’t want the details.

I don’t need vengeance; I need peace. For me, for Alessio, for Lucia, and most of all—for my mother. Wherever she is, whatever prison of silence or fear she’s trapped in, I want her safe. I want her to know I lived and that I broke the cycle. That she can too.

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