Page 19 of Vows of Blood

The hospital reeks of disinfectant and sickness. That smell alone makes me shudder, reminding me of the years spent watching our mother die.

Arms folded to stop myself from cracking my knuckles over and over, I stand outside the hospital room where the doctors brought her after surgery.

They know who I am. They took an oath to fix the damage that men like me inflict, and they don't want me here, hate me on sight, but they pretend otherwise and concentrate on doing their jobs.

"Luca." Nico appears at my shoulder, two cups of cafeteria coffee in his hands. He holds one out. I ignore it. "You need to calm down."

"I'm fine,” I growl, not giving a fuck about the filthy looks I’m getting from the staff loitering behind the nurse’s station who tried telling me we’re not supposed to be back here.

"I know that, but you glaring through the window at the people who saved her life isn’t helping. They’re just doing their jobs." He presses the cup into my hand. "She's not going anywhere."

I take the coffee, take a sniff and recoil in disgust. Instead of drinking, I move to the side and lean against the wall. There are too many people huddled around her in there, too many tubes and machines, for it to be good news.

“Shit,” I snarl, staring up at the ceiling.

Kate and I are due to marry in one month. It’s a strategic alliance disguised as romance, meant to cement peace between two powerful organizations who’ve been at each other’s throats for years.

Ever since my father killed the Irish mafia’s number two in a petty argument over a poker game.

We’re a good match on paper, a logical pairing, but not one of the heart. Which is exactly why it suits us both.

Kate’s in love with someone her brother will never approve of, and this marriage offers her an escape from Finn's control as much as it offers me legitimacy in my father's mind.

Or it would, if it goes ahead, but the odds of that happening are getting worse by the minute.

My phone buzzes with a call from Corso. I hold the phone away from my ear so Nico can listen. "We found the guy on the motorcycle. Caught him trying to hail a cab, still wearing the helmet,” Corso sneers.

“Idiot,” Nico mutters.

I grunt in agreement, but that raises another question. Why is someone that fucking stupid trying to take out one of the Calvano’s?

“Says he was paid to create a distraction. Fire a few shots out front, cause panic, then disappear. Says he thought it was a burglary, not a hit. Had no idea who he was fucking with.”

That makes more sense.

"Well then who the fuck hired him?" Nico hisses into the phone.

“Some guy approached him in a bar on the south side. Paid cash, gave him the keys to the bike and left. Told him to make lots of noise as he was leaving.” Corso pauses, and there’s the sound of car doors slamming in the background. “We’ll keep trying to track the second gunman. I’m on my way to the bar now.”

“Che cazzo.” I pocket the phone and rub the heel of my hand against my chest.

"He's either lying or he's the stupidest criminal in Chicago," Nico mutters.

“I think it’s the latter.” And he’s going to pay the price for it. He was just a decoy, making a big scene and causing panic by shooting out the glass while the real assassin slipped in and out the back. And we fell for it. Now he’s going to be made an example of, a lesson to others about what happens when you fuck with the families.

The door to the room swings open, and a nurse rushes out looking frazzled. She glances at me, expression grim, then quickly turns away.

"How is she?" I step forward, blocking her path.

"You can’t be in here.” She turns, searching for the absent security guard who wisely decided not to stick around. “A doctor will update you when there’s more news, Mr. Calvano. She's alive. That's all I can tell you for now."

That's not exactly reassuring.

She slips past me, no doubt on her way to call the cops and try to get us evicted from the building.

"You need to call Finn."

I glare at Nico. “No shit. I was hoping I’d have some good news first.”