Page 38 of The Mafia’s Second Shot (Burning For You Again #3)

ZOEY

T he industrial yard is chaos—a cacophony of shouts, gunfire, and the acrid smell of smoke. I push forward, my heart pounding, gripping the pistol tightly in my hand. The crackling voice on the radio telling me Cooper went after Rossi alone rings in my ears, driving me forward.

I follow the path Marco and the others took, weaving through the wreckage of the battlefield. My chest tightens with every step, dread pooling in my stomach. Then I see Marco ahead, kneeling beside a figure on the ground.

It’s Cooper.

My steps falter as the sight hits me like a punch to the gut.

Cooper is lying on the concrete, blood soaking through his shirt and pooling beneath him.

His face is pale, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

Marco presses his hands against the wound, his jaw tight as he barks orders to the men around him.

“Boss, stay with me,” Marco says, his voice steady but urgent. “You’re not done yet, you hear me?”

Cooper’s lips move, but I can’t hear what he says. My feet feel rooted to the ground, my mind racing as I try to process what I’m seeing. The man who’s always seemed so strong, so indestructible, looks fragile in a way that terrifies me.

“Zoey!” Marco’s voice snaps me out of my stupor. “Get over here. Now!”

I force my legs to move, stumbling forward until I’m kneeling beside them. My hands hover uselessly as I take in the blood, the knife wound in Cooper’s side, the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Marco, is he?—”

“He’s alive,” Marco interrupts, his tone sharp. “But barely. Help me keep pressure on the wound.”

I press my hands against the bandages Marco has wrapped around Cooper’s torso, the blood warm and slick beneath my fingers. Cooper groans softly, his eyes fluttering open. They lock onto mine, and for a moment, the chaos around us fades.

“Zoey,” he murmurs, his voice faint. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” I reply, my voice shaking. “And you’re going to be okay. Just hold on.”

He tries to smile, but it’s weak, his strength fading. “Told... you to stay back.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not great at following orders,” I say, blinking back tears. “So you’re stuck with me.”

Marco looks up as one of the team medics arrives, a wiry man with sharp eyes and steady hands. “We need to move him,” Marco says. “But he’s not stable.”

The medic nods, pulling supplies from his kit. “Let’s stabilize him here first. Then we’ll get him to the safe house.”

I watch, my hands still pressing against Cooper’s wound, as the medic works quickly to slow the bleeding. Cooper winces but doesn’t protest, his gaze locked on me.

“Zoey,” he says softly, his voice barely audible. “Don’t... cry.”

“I’m not crying,” I lie, my tears falling freely now. “You don’t get to lecture me right now.”

He chuckles faintly, the sound more of a breath than a laugh. “Fair enough.”

Once Cooper is stabilized enough to move, we lift him onto a makeshift stretcher. Marco takes one side, I take the other, and together we carry him toward the waiting SUV. Every step feels like a mile, the weight of his body and the fear in my chest pressing down on me.

“Stay with us, boss,” Marco says as we load Cooper into the back seat. “We’re not done yet.”

The medic climbs in beside Cooper, his hands steady as he checks the bandages. I slide in next to them, my grip on Cooper’s hand tight as the vehicle starts moving.

The ride to the safe house is tense, every bump and turn making Cooper groan in pain. I keep my eyes on him, watching his chest rise and fall, counting each breath as if my focus alone can keep him alive.

“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “We’re almost there.”

His eyes open briefly, his gaze meeting mine. “Don’t let me go,” he says, his voice so faint I can barely hear it.

“I won’t,” I reply, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”

The safe house is a blur of movement and noise as we arrive. The team rushes Cooper inside, the medic barking orders to anyone within earshot. I follow close behind, my steps unsteady, my heart racing.

Marco places a hand on my shoulder, his expression grim but steady. “He’s in good hands, Zoey. Let them do their job.”

I nod, though the thought of stepping back feels unbearable. “Just save him.”

The medic works quickly, cleaning and dressing the wound, administering fluids to stabilize Cooper. I hover nearby, my hands clenched into fists, my chest tight with fear. Every second feels like an eternity, the weight of what’s happening pressing down on me.

“He’s stable for now,” the medic says finally, his tone clipped. “But he needs a hospital. This is temporary.”

“Then let’s move,” Marco says, already heading for the door. “We’re not losing him here.”

The ambulance ride to the hospital is a blur. I sit beside Cooper, holding his hand tightly as the medic monitors his vitals. His face is pale, his breaths shallow, but he’s still with us. That’s all that matters.

“Hang on,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You’ve got this.”

Cooper’s eyes open briefly, his gaze unfocused but warm. “Zoey,” he murmurs. “You’re... everything.”

Tears spill down my cheeks, but I manage a smile. “And you’re an idiot for scaring me like this.”

His lips twitch in what might be a smile before his eyes close again, his strength fading.

As the ambulance pulls into the hospital, the medics move quickly, wheeling Cooper inside. I follow them as far as I can, my heart pounding as they push him through the doors to the operating room. A nurse stops me, her expression gentle but firm.

“You can’t go in,” she says. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Just save him.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” she replies, her tone reassuring.

I collapse onto a bench in the hallway, my hands trembling as the weight of everything crashes down on me. Marco sits beside me, his presence steadying even as fear grips my chest.

“He’ll make it,” Marco says quietly. “He’s too stubborn not to.”

I nod, though the fear in my chest doesn’t ease. “I can’t lose him, Marco.”

“You won’t,” he replies. “Not after everything you two have been through.”

As dawn breaks, a doctor finally emerges from the operating room. She looks tired but calm, her expression giving me a flicker of hope.

“He’s stable,” she says gently. “The surgery went well, but the next 24 hours are critical.”

“Can I see him?” I ask, my voice trembling.

She hesitates, then nods. “For a few minutes.”

I step into the recovery room, my heart pounding as I approach Cooper’s bed. He looks pale and weak, his face drawn, but his chest rises and falls steadily. I sink into the chair beside him, taking his hand in mine.

“I’m here,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers twitch faintly, and I lean closer, my voice steady despite the fear threatening to overwhelm me. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. Just... don’t let go.”

As the machines beep softly around us, I make a promise to myself—and to him—that I won’t let him face this alone. No matter what.