“Why did they take Franco?”

“Heart attack.”

A fresh onslaught of tears came, and I sucked in a loud breath. “He did it for nothing. He tried to save that horrible man for nothing.”

Isabella took my hand and squeezed it, forcing me to look at her. “He’s not dead yet. He needs you to believe in him, understand? You can’t be weak now, not now, Lucia. He needs you.”

I looked at her face. She looked much older than her twenty-two years all of a sudden, and her eyes—they held lifetimes of sadness inside them.

“How’s Luke?” I asked, remembering.

She focused her attention back on the road. “No change.”

“Where’s Dominic?”

“He slipped out.” She shook her head. “I saw his face. He just kept looking at Salvatore, lying at his feet. For so long, it was what he wanted, but then, when it happened…”

“Where is he?”

“His face, Lucia. I’d never seen him look like that before. Not ever.”

But I didn’t care about Dominic or what he felt or what his face looked like. I would kill him with my bare hands when I saw him.

My sister was right, though. Salvatore needed me now, and I would focus all my energy on him. He was a survivor. He would survive. He had to.

When we arrived at the hospital, he was in surgery. They’d brought him to the same unit where Luke had been.

Déjà vu.

Only this time, the doctor wouldn’t talk to us. We weren’t family.

“Fuck! I just want to know if he’s alive!”

“Ma’am, you need to calm down,” the doctor said.

“Lucia.”

I heard a man’s voice behind me. I turned to find Roman walking into the waiting room, his face cleaned of blood, although his shirt still had splatters of it.

“They’re operating. There’s nothing for them to tell.” He turned to the doctor. “Add Lucia DeMarco to the list,” he said. “Keep her updated on Salvatore Benedetti’s condition.”

The doctor nodded and made a note of what I assumed was my name and walked away.

“Thank you,” I said to Roman.

He nodded and sat down. Defeat was the one word I would use to describe him in that moment.

“What about Franco?” Isabella asked.

“Stable”

“Of course. Of course he’s stable while his son is in there possibly dying.” I sank down into a chair, and Isabella wrapped her arms around me.

“Shh. Remember, you have to be strong. He needs you now more than ever.”

I nodded, wiping away tears and snot.

We sat in the waiting room for a long time. Isabella excused herself to make some calls, to make sure the sitter could stay with Effie longer, to check on Luke. Roman and I remained silent, lost in our own misery. All the while, my ankle throbbed.