Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I swallow. “Sabella is in the hospital.” Just saying it makes me tremble with maddening violence and crippling fear.
“Is she sick?” Sophie asks, sounding small and scared.
Assaulted.
In a coma.
“Yes, darling,” I say, miraculously keeping my voice even. “I’ll go there now to check on her. The driver will take you home. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Will she be okay?” Étienne asks.
I want to say yes. I have to say yes. But the terrifying truth is I don’t know. And it’s killing me.
I reach over Guillaume and pat Étienne’s shoulder. “I’ll call Heidi when I have more news.”
Sophie starts unclipping her safety belt. “I want to come with you.”
I stop her with a hand on her arm. “What will help Sabella is knowing you’re safely at home and out of the cold. We don’t want you to get sick.”
She abandons freeing herself with a slouch of her shoulders.
“You’re in good hands,” I say. “My driver will take care of you, and my men are following in the car behind.”
“What about you?” Johan asks, twisting in his seat.
“Don’t worry about me. Just take care of your sister and your brothers.”
“We can take care too,” Guillaume pipes in.
I smile at him. “I know you can.”
I nod at the driver. When he starts the engine, I close the door and watch the vehicle as he pulls off. Sophie, Étienne, and Guillaume stare at me through the back window. They look forlorn. I store that observation in the back of my mind, leaving it for another time to examine. I can only think about Sabella now.
The second car pulls up.
“Make sure they get home safely,” I tell the driver. “If anything out of the ordinary happens on the way, shoot first and ask questions later.”
The tires shoot up gravel as he takes off.
To the driver of the third car, I say, “Go to the new house. Check on the men and call me.” I dip my head, catching his gaze in the dashboard light. My insides shake as I tell him, “My wife was assaulted. Our communication was compromised. Expect an ambush or worse. I can’t send more men. I need the others at the old house to protect the kids.”
“We’re on it, sir.”
I tap the roof, their sign to go.
“What’s going on?” Uncle Enzo asks when I slide onto the backseat next to him.
“Go to the hospital in the village,” I instruct the driver, firing off a message to Heidi to let her know I’m on my way to the hospital. That something happened to Sabella. To lock the doors and keep two armed men with them in the house. “And floor the gas.”
“Angelo,” Uncle Enzo says, but I tune out his whining and look through the window, seeing nothing while coming more undone with every meter of road we cover too slowly.
He gives up after the third try, leaving me in peace to stew in my maddening anxiety.
It’s close to two when the driver pulls into the parking lot of the hospital. I’m out of the car even before he’s brought it to a complete stop, making my way inside the humble but well-equipped building in record time.
The nurse at the front desk looks up when the electronic doors slide closed behind me. A shutter drops in front of her eyes. She doesn’t meet my gaze when I stop in front of her.
“My wife,” I manage to say. “Sabella Russo.”
She glances at the stairs. “The doctor is still with her.”
“Where?” I bite out.
“First floor.” She wheels her chair back, looking ready to flee. “Third room on the right.”
I take the stairs two by two. The amount of people crowding the hallway restrict the passage. What the fuck are they doing here at two in the morning? I scan each person I push out of my way, assessing the danger, but they’re mostly elderly men and women wearing troubled expressions.
They catch on that I mean business after my shoving invites a hum of protest in the throng. The people step aside. They stare at me as I walk down the human tunnel. I only breathe again when I spot my guards at the end, three on each side of the door.
I’m about to push the handle down when the door swings inward and a woman wearing a white coat and a name tag that reads Dr. Casanova steps out.
“No visitors yet,” she says in a gentle but firm tone.
She’s young. Not from around here. That’s why she doesn’t know me. She has no idea who I am or what I’ll do to her if she doesn’t let me see my wife right this minute. When she closes the door, I utter a sound close to a growl.
“I’m her husband,” I say in a tone that’ll frighten the toughest of men.
“Mr. Russo.” She pauses and winces as if she doesn’t know how to say what needs to be said. Touching my arm, she continues. “Let’s talk in my office.”