The word keeps repeating in my head.
Fiance.
Luna Gambino—my fiance.
It should've felt like control. Like victory. Like the final piece of a calculated deal locking into place exactly how it was meant to.
Instead—
it feels like something is being ripped apart inside my chest.
Because none of that matters right now.
Not the families.
Not the Genovese name.
Not the Gambino tension that has existed long before either of us were born.
All that exists is the ICU doors in front of me.
Closed.
White.
Cold.
And behind them—
her.
I pace again.
Back and forth.
The hallway feels too narrow for the amount of pressure in my lungs. Every step echoes like it's mocking me.
Behind me, my family stands scattered in silence.
My father hasn't spoken a word in minutes. That alone says enough.
My mother's hands are folded tightly, too controlled to show panic, but I know her well enough to see it anyway—in the way her eyes don't stop moving toward the doors.
Even Zade is quiet.
Too quiet.
And that's never a good sign.
Adrian stands a few feet away from them.
Not with them.
Not with me.
Just… suspended in the middle like he doesn't belong anywhere anymore.
Which is stupid.
Because tonight stripped him of everything except one thing.
His sister.
My jaw tightens as I stop pacing and stare at the ICU doors again.
Who dared?
The question is not new anymore. It's looping now. Rotating through every part of my brain like a broken system refusing to shut down.
Security was tight.
Too tight.
Every entrance covered. Every exit watched. Every guest verified.
And still—
a bullet found her.
While she was in my arms.
My fists clench so hard my knuckles ache.
That detail keeps replaying too.
Her weight against me.
Her voice breaking on my name.
The sudden shift from warmth—
to blood.
I exhale sharply through my nose, forcing it down.
Not now.
Not here.
Because if I let it fully surface—
there won't be a Genovese left standing when I walk out of this hospital.
The ICU doors open suddenly.
A doctor steps out.
Mask on. Gloves still on. Eyes tired.
My body moves before I think.
I'm already in front of him.
"How is she?" I ask.
My voice comes out lower than I expect.
Controlled.
Dangerously controlled.
The doctor hesitates for half a second too long.
That half second tells me everything.
Adrian is beside me instantly.
"Tell me she's alive," he says.
Not loud.
Not emotional.
Just… sharp.
The doctor nods quickly. "She's stable. The bullet didn't hit any major arteries. We were able to remove it successfully."
A breath I didn't realize I was holding releases through my chest.
Not relief.
Not yet.
Just—
delay of disaster.
"She lost a significant amount of blood," the doctor continues, "but she's strong. She'll recover with time."
Adrian closes his eyes for a moment.
Just one second.
Then opens them again like he refuses to stay still even emotionally.
I don't move.
Because my brain is still stuck on one line.
She'll recover.
Good.
She has to.
The doctor looks between us. "She's awake now, but she's weak. Only one person at a time for now."
Adrian steps forward immediately.
So do I.
We both stop at the same time.
A silent collision.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then Adrian looks at me.
Really looks.
And something in his expression shifts—not anger. Not blame.
Something heavier.
"I'm going first," he says.
Simple.
Final.
I should argue.
I should remind him what I am. What I represent. What she is to me now.
Fiance.
Claim.
Future.
But I don't.
Because when I look past him—
through the glass—
I can see her faint outline inside the room.
Still.
Small.
Too still.
And for the first time tonight—
I understand something clearly.
This isn't about hierarchy.
Or names.
Or control.
So I step back.
Just slightly.
Adrian doesn't waste another second. He goes in.
The door shuts behind him.
And silence returns like a weight pressing down on everything.
My father finally speaks behind me.
"This was a message."
I don't turn around.
"I know," I say.
My voice is flat.
Almost calm.
But inside—
everything is not.
Zade shifts slightly. "From who?"
I finally turn my head just enough to look at him.
That's the wrong question.
Because the answer doesn't matter yet.
What matters is simpler.
Someone thought they could touch her.
Inside my territory.
Inside my engagement.
Inside me.
My jaw tightens again.
"I'll find out," I say.
And I mean it.
Every word.
My mother's voice is softer when she speaks. "Zane…"
I look at her.
She doesn't finish the sentence.
She doesn't need to.
Because she sees it.
The shift.
Whatever I was before tonight—
doesn't exist anymore in the same way.
The ICU door opens again.
Adrian comes out.
His face is different now.
Not calmer.
But… less fractured.
Like seeing her alive stabilized something inside him that was breaking apart.
"She wants to see him," he says quietly.
His eyes land on me.
Not as a challenge.
As a fact.
My body moves before anyone can respond.
I don't wait.
I don't think.
I step past them and walk straight into the room.
The door clicks shut behind me.
And suddenly—
everything goes quiet again.
Too quiet.
White walls. Soft lights. Machines beeping in steady rhythm.
And there—
she is.
Luna.
Lying on the bed, pale but awake.
Her eyes shift toward me as I step closer.
And something in my chest breaks open in a way I don't understand.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just… quietly.
Like something inside me finally stops pretending it doesn't exist.
"You look annoyed," she whispers weakly.
Even now.
Even like this.
I almost smile.
Almost.
"You got shot," I say.
Simple.
She exhales softly. "Not ideal timing, I know."
I step closer to the bed.
Careful now.
Not like the garden.
Not like before.
Everything feels different now.
Heavier.
Real in a way nothing else has been.
"I told you to stay with me," I say quietly.
Her lips curve faintly. "I did. For a while."
My gaze drops for a second.
The bandage. The monitors. The evidence of what almost happened.
Then back to her.
"I should've done better," I say.
It's not a question.
It's not a statement for comfort.
It's truth.
Her eyes soften slightly.
"That wasn't your fault," she says.
I shake my head once.
"No."
A pause.
Then lower:
"But it becomes my problem now."
Her fingers twitch slightly on the blanket.
"Is that supposed to make me feel safer?"
"Does it?"
Silence.
Then—
a faint breath that almost sounds like laughter.
"You're impossible," she murmurs.
I move closer until I'm beside her bed.
Not touching yet.
Just there.
Present.
Real.
Alive.
"Whoever did this," I say quietly, "is going to regret it."
Her gaze holds mine.
And even weak like this—
she still understands what I mean.
Not anger.
Not threat.
Decision.
She studies me for a moment longer.
Then softly says, "Don't lose yourself over this."
That makes me pause.
Because she says it like she knows something I don't want to admit.
Like she already sees the direction I'm heading.
I lean slightly closer.
Just enough that my voice drops lower.
"I didn't lose myself," I say.
A beat.
"I found a reason."
Her breath stills slightly.
And for a moment—
neither of us speaks.
Machines continue their steady rhythm.
Outside, the world is still chaos.
Inside—
it's something else entirely.
She looks at me for a long time.
Then finally whispers:
"Zane…"
I don't answer immediately.
Because I already know what she's going to say.
Or what she should say.
Or what she might feel.
But whatever it is—
I'm not stepping away.
Not now.
Not after this.
So I stay where I am.
And for the first time since the shot was fired—
I let myself believe something I didn't before.
She's alive.
She's here.
And whoever tried to take her from me—
didn't understand what they started.