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But it’s a lie. The truth is, I don’t know if she will be okay. If she doesn’t open her eyes, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do.

For the first time in my life, I know what real fear is.

Losing her.

43

Alessio

Minutes feel like hours, but we finally make it to the hospital. Normally, I’d have a doctor brought to the house, but this was too fucking urgent to wait.

The second Kota stops the car, I’m out, with Liv in my arms, running up to the ER entrance like a man possessed. The second the automatic doors open, two nurses and a gurney are already waiting for us. I don’t want to let her go, but I force myself to lay her down, my hands lingering for half a second before I follow them into triage. More doctors and nurses flood in, surrounding her, shouting orders that I barely register.

“Sir, can you please wait in the waiting room?” a nurse with short dark hair asks, stepping in front of me like she thinks she can stop me.

“No.”

“There’s no pulse,” someone says, and my stomach fucking drops.

“We need the room cleared,” the nurse insists, her voice grating like nails on a chalkboard, my last fucking nerve snapping with it as she tries to push me back.

“Then fucking clear it,” I snap. “But I’m not leaving.”

“Relationship?” she presses.

“I’m her—she’s my—” Fucking hell, find your words, man. “She’s my fiancée,” I finally blurt out. It’s not exactly the status we left things in, but she doesn’t need to know that.

I’m covered in blood, damn near dripping it onto the floor, but I still don’t move from Liv’s side. Another nurse, a guy this time, steps closer. Maybe to make me leave. Maybe to reason with me. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll back the fuck off.

“Sir, are you injured too?” he asks, pulling up my shirt before I can stop him.

My pain had been shoved to the back of my mind, but now that he mentions it, the wound at my side starts to throb like a bitch. Still, I won’t take anyone away from helping Liv. I can fucking wait.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me,” I say, swatting his hand away.

“Sir,if you let me take a look at—”

“I’m fine. Focus on her.” I nod toward Liv, lying motionless on the bed. My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “She’s more important. When she’s okay, then you can help me.”

I’ll never fucking forgive myself if she doesn’t make it.

“She’s not responding,” someone calls out, and that sentence is nearly my undoing.

The same asshole keeps trying to lift my shirt, and my patience is non-fucking-existent right now. I’m two seconds from ripping his face off when I hear it—that sound.

“Clear!” Thud. Her body jerks, then nothing. “Charge to 300. Clear!” Thud. Again, her chest rises, then slams back down.

Suddenly… Beep.

A sharp, steady fucking beep. Then another… and another.

“We got a pulse!” someone shouts.

Thank fuck. But I still can’t move or speak. Liv’s not moving, but she’s here. She’s alive.

The nurse beside me exhales like he just avoided getting decked. “Please, let me check your side. It looks deep.”

“Nice try, fucker. I’m not fucking leaving her side.”