FIFTY-THREE.

I open my mouth to scream, only to find myself being dragged to the ground.

My shoulder hits the cold hospital floor with a thud and my head bounces off a large warm hand.

Alessandros’ hand.

He's thrown his body in front of me, protecting me from the hail of bullets ripping through the room.

Tiny shattered glass fragments rained down from above, dancing through the air like deadly confetti.

Gasping for air, “my father!” I struggle under his weight, trying to push him off me, but he is too heavy and doesn't budge.

“He's okay, Renzo is shielding him,” he hisses in a hushed tone, his cheek pressed against mine.

He slightly rolls onto his side, examining me with his eyes, and his hand cups the side of my jaw.

“Are you okay, Farfalla?” He asks through ragged breaths.

I nod my head with glassy eyes as I stare into his blue irises.

“Are you?” I try to suppress the sob that's slowly erupting from the pit of my stomach, making me feel sick.

He lets out a low grunt as he peers down at