Page 87 of Chicago Sin

Especially because Hannah’s involved now.

I can’t have her hurt.

I glance at the clock. It's been hours since Marco was brought in, and the silence in this cold, white room is deafening.

“God, when will they tell us something?” I mutter under my breath, trying to contain my frustration and fear.

I brood in the corner of the room, apart from Hannah, fighting the urge to slam my fist into the wall. I imagine the scene of Marco taking the bullet meant for me over and over in my mind, a constant reminder that I am to blame. What if it had struck his heart? His head? Right now I’d be explaining to my aunt how her son died.

The thought makes me sick.

I wanted to feel something–anything–but not this.

Thank fuck Hannah wasn’t hit.

“Damn it.” I clench my fists. My gaze drifts to Hannah, her beautiful face etched with worry, and my chest tightens even more. If only I hadn't brought her into this world, into the chaos of my past, she wouldn't be here facing this danger.

“Armando.” She walks over to me. “He’s going to be okay. And it's not your fault.”

I look away, unable to meet her eyes. How can she still be so fucking sweet after all this? After I’ve brought her nothing but trouble and pain?

“Stop blaming yourself,” she pleads, her voice breaking as tears well up in her eyes. “You couldn't have known this would happen.”

I stare down at her. I don’t know how the fuck she can cry for me. I’m the walking dead, and she’s an ocean of emotion.

“Couldn't I?” I ask bitterly, images of my past flashing before me. Every failed deal, every vengeful enemy—they all led to this moment. “You need to be safe.”

“What I need is you,” she whispers, reaching out to touch my hand.

“Need me?” I scoff, pulling my hand away as if her touch is scalding. “You don't know what you're asking for.”

I catch the hurt in her gaze, and my guilt grows.

“Maybe not.” She looks down at her feet before raising her eyes to meet mine again. “But I know that my feelings don’t change for you just because of what happened in that alley.”

Fuck. This girl. She’s so much more than I deserve.

A nurse comes into the waiting room and addresses Leo and me. “He’s out of surgery,” she tells us. “We removed the bullet from his–”

I surge to my feet and head straight to the room without asking if we can see him. Hannah follows right behind me. Leo stays to listen to the nurse’s report.

I just need to see with my own eyes that he’s okay.

“Hey, guys,” Marco calls out weakly from his hospital bed. “Apparently it was just a bullet to my ass. I always knew my ass looked good but never thought it'd be a literal target!” He chuckles as best he can, given the pain he’s in.

I force a smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood despite his own suffering. The sound of his laughter is like a balm to the heaviness in my chest. Though he tries to hide it, I see the strain on his face. It's evident that he's putting on a brave front for our sake.

“Nice one, cugino,” I say with a half-smile.

“Come on, Hannah, you may not laugh at my jokes, but at least give me a smile.” Marco gazes at her expectantly.

“Only because you're injured.” Her smile could brighten the darkest prison cell.

“Hey, I'll take what I can get,” he teases, wincing as he shifts on the bed.

“Thank you, Marco. For taking the bullet,” I say sincerely.

“Yes, thank you,” Hannah adds. “I know it could have hit me. You saved my life.”