Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“No matter what you think or how you feel,” I continue, ignoring his emotional outburst. “It's true. She's pregnant, so if you don't think this is tearing me apart, ripping my heart to shreds, I don't know how else to prove it to you. Do you need to see me bleeding out? Would that satisfy you? Make you understand how important this is?”
At the other end of the hall, the elevator doors slide open, and the sight of my daughter's pale, motionless form on the wheeled bed pulls me from the conversation. I try to distract myself from the tubes in her arms, but it isn't easy. I hate seeing her like this and, even more, knowing she is here because of me. She will be devastated when she discovers the bald patch on the back of her head where ten stitches now reside. I forget all about Charlie and our conversation and sprint across the space to greet the nurse.
“The results haven't come back yet,” the nurse tells me just as I reach them. “I know you want answers, but it will take some time.”
“What if she doesn't have time?” I demand, walking beside the bed and grabbing onto her frail hand.
“Mr. Torrio, her pupils are normal size and responsive,” the nurse assures me. “There's no reason to believe she sustained severe injury. There's a chance this is nothing more than a concussion, and that's something that will resolve itself in time. All we can do is wait for the test results and the doctor to confirm.”
She could've died today, and there would've been nothing I could do to stop it. That's how fast it could've happened. One single instant, and everything could've changed. “Hang in there, baby,” I whisper, clutching her hand. “I'm going to make them pay. Don't you worry.”
“Boss.” Romero enters the room and thrusts his phone my way, “It's Costello.”
Of all fucking times. I grab the phone and bring it to my ear. “Sebastian, I really don't have time for this right now.”
“Oh? You don't have time for our meeting this evening?”
Releasing Tatum's hand and walking out to the hall, I whisper, “Listen. Things... things are about as bad as they could be right now.” I can't afford to hold back now. He might be able to help me somehow, and even if it means showing a sliver of weakness, it's worth the cost if it brings Bianca home safely.
“What's that beeping in the background? It sounds like you're in the hospital.”
Observant kid. “We're at the hospital in town.”
“Is everything okay?” He seems interested, yet an intelligent man knows he's merely digging for information. Quickly as possible, I give him the rundown, hitting on the important parts for the sake of time. “I'm sure my ex-wife had something to do with this, although I don't know who she was working with. Romero has eyes and ears on it, so hopefully we'll have an answer soon.”
A glance into the room shows Romero seated at Tatum's side. I don't think he's blinking, staring at her with an intensity I've never seen from him. “My money is on Jack Moroni.”
“I'll ask around, see if there's been any chatter. Please, let me try to help.”
I don't have a choice but to accept, do I? No less than my entire life hangs in the balance. My daughter, my unborn child, and the woman I love. They need me. I can't afford to fall apart the way Charlie is, swinging from grief to rage to helpless horror and back again.
“Thanks. Let me know if you hear anything,” I mumble into the phone and hit the end key. I grip the device in my hand, squeezing it tighter than necessary. Somewhere out there is the woman I love, and she's at the mercy of someone menacing because of me.
I'll never forgive myself if I lose her, if I lose our baby.
Finding her isn't an option.
If I have to, I'll burn the world to the ground to bring her home.
BIANCA
Just when I thought I'd been through the worst that a person could ever possibly go through…you know, after everything that happened with Lucas, all the ups and downs I went through with Callum, losing mom, and watching my father fall apart. All of those things have left invisible scar tissue running through my body, brain, and heart. That scar tissue however isn't thick enough to protect me against the shame that's now coating my insides with a sticky residue.
“Do you really have to watch me do this?” As if pissing and shitting in a bucket in the corner of the room isn't bad enough. That alone would be horrifying and degrading without an audience keeping tabs on my every move.
The thick-necked thug standing with his back to the closed metal door barely offers a sneer in response. The room is no longer dark thanks to the bare bulb glowing overhead, but I'd prefer the darkness. At least then, the darkness would hide his vulgar expression and the cold glittering of his beady eyes.