Page 77 of Alessia
“No. She’s still out. The doctors said it’s just a matter of time, but…” My voice trails off, and I glance back at Harper. She looks so small and fragile under the hospital sheets, her usually vibrant presence reduced to shallow breaths and a pale complexion.
Lorenzo sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll get through this. You know Harper, she’s a fighter. She’ll come out on top.”
I nod, though the words feel hollow. “And Gianni? Any updates?”
Lorenzo’s expression darkens. “Not yet. But Elio flew in every available man to go find him. He won’t get far.”
Amelia clears her throat, her eyes darting between Lorenzo and me. “I can stay here for a while if you need to step out. Get some air, maybe?”
I shake my head again, more firmly this time. “No, I’m not leaving her.”
Amelia hesitates, then nods. “Alright. Just… don’t forget we’re here if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks,” I say, the word coming out quieter than I intended.
Lorenzo stands, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Stay strong, big sis. We’ll handle the rest.”
I watch as they leave, the door closing softly behind them. The room feels impossibly quiet again, save for the steady beep of the monitor and the rhythmic hum of the machines.
I text Elio to tell him we need to transport her back home as soon as possible; I want her out of Italy now!
27 - Harper
Asteady beeping from the heart monitor pulsates in rhythm with the faint hum of the air conditioning. The sterile smell of antiseptic lingers in the air. My eyelids flutter, a small, involuntary twitch, before they crack open a sliver.
“Harper?” Alessia’s voice is soft, cautious, and tinged with desperation. She sits upright in the uncomfortable chair beside the hospital bed, the boo she’d probably been pretending to read slips from her lap to the floor with a soft thud. Her dark hair is mussed from countless hours of leaning against her hand, her eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep and tears.
I blink again, then squint against the faint light. I struggle to focus, my thoughts sluggish and scattered as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing edges.
“Hey, hey,” Alessia says, leaning forward, her hand instinctively reaching for mine.
“Take it easy. You’re okay. Just… just go slow.”
My gazedrifts around the room, my brows furrowing. I wet my lips with difficulty, my voice coming out hoarse and fragile.
“Alessia?”
A sob catches in Alessia’s throat, and she squeezes my hand tightly. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”
Panic creeps into me, “Where am I? What happened?”
“You’re in the hospital,” Alessia says quickly, her voice firm but soothing. “You where shot. But you’re safe now. You’re awake. That’s what matters.”
My mind churns, trying to grasp memories that slipped through my fingers like sand. “How…how long?”
