Tamires Coelhoの小説

The sound was nothing but a shrill, relentless hum reverberating in Vincenzo’s ears, smothering everything around him.His breaths came short, unsteady. His chest heaved with faltering attempts to draw in the heavy air.The stench was suffocating. Smoke, gunpowder, and scorched iron invaded every space. His throat burned. Each inhale was raw, painful.Vincenzo forced his eyes open. He blinked repeatedly, but his vision refused to focus. All he could see were blurs, distorted shapes, and flickering lights cutting through the haze of smoke.The lines of the parking lot vanished amid streaks of blood, twisted metal, and debris scattered in every direction.His head throbbed, heavy with a slicing pressure that felt like it might split his skull in two.“Help! Somebody, please, for God’s sake!” a trembling, choked voice echoed through the smoke. “He’s alive!”Vincenzo pressed his hands to the asphalt, fumbling until he found something to brace against. His fingers shook, sliding over the r

For a moment, Vincenzo’s expression darkened, unease etching every line of his face with a rigidity impossible to conceal.“Why the interest?” he asked, recognizing the voice on the other end as he stepped away discreetly, as if instinctively aware that this conversation was not for others’ ears.“I want answers,” the voice snapped, sharp and unyielding, carrying a weight that felt less like a request and more like a demand. “And believe me, what I’ve been hearing hasn’t exactly put me at ease.”“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” Vincenzo shot back, his voice lower than usual. “I made it clear—don’t call me.”“It doesn’t work that way…”“I know exactly how things work,” Vincenzo interrupted, stopping in front of the window, his jaw clenched. “And in case you've forgotten, it wasn't part of the deal for you to screw me over in the process.” He fired back, his voice low, precise, and cutting. “Don't call me again.” He paused, letting each word hang heavy in the air. “Wait for my call.” H

Vittoria blinked, disoriented. Her breaths remained shallow beneath the mask as her eyes roamed the ceiling before locking onto his.For a moment, they stared at each other. No words, no sound—just the faint smile that curved his lips, subtle yet brimming with relief.Vittoria tried to move. Her trembling, unsteady hands groped for something to anchor her, some point of reference to make sense of where she was.Vincenzo, in an almost instinctive reflex, leaned forward and reached towards her.“Sir, please keep your hands back,” the nurse instructed as she returned, gesturing for him to lower his arm.Vincenzo complied, though every fiber of his being ached to hold her, especially when he noticed her make a slight, almost involuntary movement, as if trying to reach for him.“Patient is conscious,” the nurse announced, activating the intercom. “Requesting medical attendance in the respiratory ICU, bed three.”Minutes later, the doctor entered the bay, fully grown, accompanied by another

The doctor merely nodded, staying a step ahead as he led Vincenzo through the corridors.The automatic glass doors slid open with a sharp hum, signaling their entry into the restricted area.With each step, Vincenzo felt his heartbeat quicken, the weight of anxiety mirrored in his ragged breaths.The doctor halted before a double door, its frosted glass panel adorned with a stark red sign, its letters clear and commanding: *Restricted Access — Gowning Area*.“You’ll need to gown up,” the doctor instructed, his tone brisk and professional, gesturing toward the space designated for biosafety protocols. “Access to the respiratory ICU is only permitted after following the barrier protocol.”The directive was no surprise to Vincenzo. He knew every procedure, every requirement, every step by heart.Without hesitation, he entered the gowning room and adhered meticulously to the safety protocols: he scrubbed his hands, donned the disposable gown, secured the cap, mask, gloves, and shoe covers

Alfonso took two steps toward the doctor, but without thinking, Vincenzo surged forward, positioning himself in front of his father-in-law.The movement, firm and calculated, forced Alfonso to halt abruptly to avoid a collision.“Don’t even try,” Vincenzo warned, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder. Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the doctor, his posture rigid. “Vincenzo Lucchese. Next of kin for the patient.”He felt the piercing stares of Alfonso and Giuliano boring into him, sharp enough to cut through.But he didn’t waver. Nothing—absolutely nothing—mattered except one thing: knowing how Vittoria was.“What is your relation to the patient?” the doctor asked, eyes fixed on the clipboard in his hands.“Husband,” Vincenzo answered without hesitation. “How is she?”She responded to initial interventions. Her oxygen saturation has improved, but she remains highly unstable,” the doctor reported, maintaining a serious demeanor. “The attack was extremely severe.”Vin

For a moment, Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, his fists tightening with force.Rage surged, corrosive, burning within, as the gun’s barrel remained pressed firmly against his chin.“One wrong breath, Lucchese,” Giuliano growled, his voice low, heavy with barely restrained hatred. “And I’ll splatter your brains across this damn corridor.”“You’ve got exactly three seconds to decide if you’re pulling that fucking trigger…”“Shut your mouth,” Giuliano cut him off, pressing the gun harder, forcing Vincenzo’s jaw upward. “Don’t even try playing this game with me, you figlio di puttana.”“Lower that shit,” Vincenzo ordered through gritted teeth, his voice steady and laced with menace.“She almost died!” Giuliano shouted, his voice raw with a mix of pain, desperation, and fury. “And if she dies, I swear, Vincenzo, you’re going down with her.”“You think you can manage that, Giuliano?” Vincenzo challenged, pressing his chin harder against the barrel. “Then do me the favor, pull th