Chapter 11: The Doctor’s Secret

Ten seconds.

Nine.

The numbers flashed red on the detonator in Victoria’s hand, mocking me. The wind howled through the cemetery, whipping my hair across my face, but I couldn't hear it over the roaring of blood in my ears.

Isabella was on her knees in front of an open grave, her hands bound, tears streaking through the dirt on her face. Victoria stood over her, a victorious, manic smile twisting her features.

I didn't think. I didn't calculate the odds. I just acted.

I threw my leg over the motorcycle, shoving the kickstand down.

"Sarah, no!" Enzo roared, his voice cracking with terror. He tried to grab my waist, but his body was failing him. He was too weak, too drained from blood loss.

I bolted.

My ribs screamed in agony, my lungs burning with freezing air, but I ran straight toward the grave. Victoria’s eyes widened in shock. She hadn't expected me to run toward the bomb. She fumbled with the remote, her finger hovering over the button.

Enzo fired.

The shot rang out like a thunderclap. Victoria screamed, the remote flying from her hand and shattering against a headstone. She clutched her bleeding hand, stumbling backward.

I dove. I hit the ground hard, sliding through the wet dirt, and threw my body over Isabella's.

"Hold your breath!" I screamed, wrapping my arms around her head.

The explosion was deafening.

It wasn't a massive, earth-shattering blast; it was a localized charge buried beneath the headstone next to the grave. The stone shattered into a thousand pieces, a shockwave of dirt and debris raining down on us like shrapnel.

I felt a sharp, white-hot sting across my back as a piece of stone grazed me, but I didn't let go of Isabella.

Then, silence.

The ringing in my ears was absolute. I lay there in the dirt, my chest heaving, the smell of scorched earth and gunpowder filling my nose.

"Sarah!"

Enzo's voice was distant, muffled by the ringing. I felt hands on my shoulders, dragging me off Isabella. I looked up, blinking through the dust. Enzo was on his knees, his face ashen, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated panic.

He pulled me into his arms, crushing me against his bleeding chest. His entire body was trembling, the violent, agonizing spasms of withdrawal returning with a vengeance now that the adrenaline was fading.

"You're insane," he choked out, his lips pressing frantic kisses against my forehead, my temples, my cheeks. "You're absolutely insane. You could have died."

"I had to save her," I whispered, my voice shaking.

I looked over his shoulder. Isabella was coughing, pushing herself up from the dirt. She was covered in grime, her face tear-streaked, but she was alive.

Victoria was gone. A trail of blood led toward the road. She had run.

"Enzo, we have to go," I said, pulling back. "She's getting away."

"I don't care about her right now," Enzo snarled. His eyes rolled back, a violent shudder wracking his frame. "I can't... Sarah, I can't breathe."

I grabbed his face, pressing my palms flat against his cheeks. The moment my skin touched his, the violent shaking stopped. He slumped forward, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged and desperate.

Marcus appeared then, bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but moving. "Miss Vance. Godfather. We need to get you both out of here. The police will be here in minutes."

I helped Marcus haul Enzo to his feet. We shoved him into the back of a black SUV that Marcus had commandeered. Isabella climbed in beside me, her hands still shaking.

As we sped away from the cemetery, Enzo lost consciousness, his head resting heavily in my lap. I kept one hand tangled in his hair, my thumb stroking his temple, my other hand pressed against the fresh blood seeping through the bandage on his ribs.

We didn't go back to the mansion. It was compromised. Marcus drove us to a private, underground safehouse beneath a corporate skyscraper owned by a Vitale shell company.

The doctor was already waiting.

Dr. Aris was an older man with silver hair and steady hands. He had been the Vitale family physician since Enzo was a boy. He took one look at Enzo and ordered him to be taken to the sterile medical room.

It took two hours. Two agonizing, terrifying hours of me sitting in a plastic chair, my hand never leaving Enzo's, while Dr. Aris cut away his clothes and worked on his side. The wound had torn open again, the bullet fragment doing severe internal damage.

When Dr. Aris finally pulled off his surgical gloves, his face was grim.

"He's stable," the doctor said, his voice low. "But barely. The blood loss was severe. We had to give him a transfusion."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Thank God."

"It's not that simple, Mrs. Vitale," Dr. Aris said, his eyes locking onto mine. He glanced at Enzo, who was unconscious on the bed, before turning back to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart dropping.

Dr. Aris walked over to a monitor, pulling up a series of complex charts. "Enzo suffers from a rare, undocumented neurological anomaly. His nervous system violently rejects the sensory input of another person's touch. The medication was designed to suppress the neural pathways, but it's a poison, Sarah. It's destroying his liver and his heart."

"I know," I whispered. "He's been losing control. The tremors, the pain."

"The pain is his nervous system short-circuiting," Dr. Aris explained. "You are the only one who neutralizes it. Your touch stops the breakdown. But hand-holding isn't going to be enough anymore."

I stared at him, my blood running cold. "What are you talking about?"

"His body is starving for the connection it was denied for thirty years," Dr. Aris said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The physical proximity you provide calms him temporarily, but his condition is accelerating. The nerve damage is spreading. He's seizing because his body is trying to consume itself."

"What do we do?" I asked, my voice breaking. "How do I fix him?"

Dr. Aris looked at me, his expression one of deep, clinical pity.

"He needs to fully claim you, Sarah," he said softly. "Not just your touch. His biology requires absolute, complete physical intimacy. The bond has to be consummated. If he doesn't fully mate with you, the genetic imprint won't stabilize. His heart will give out within the month."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "You're saying... he'll die if we don't have sex?"

"I'm saying his body will shut down," Dr. Aris corrected. "The medication is no longer an option. The only cure for Enzo Vitale is you."

I turned to look at Enzo. He was lying on the bed, his chest bare, his side heavily bandaged. He looked so fragile, so painfully human without the intimidating aura of the Godfather.

I was trapped in a marriage with a monster, and the only way to save him was to surrender to him completely.

Suddenly, the heart monitor spiked.

A violent seizure racked Enzo's body. His back arched off the bed, his eyes rolling back, blood foaming at his mouth.

"Sarah!" Dr. Aris yelled, struggling to hold him down. "The bond is rejecting! You have to calm him! Now!"

I lunged forward, throwing myself onto the bed. I grabbed his face, pressing my skin against his, but the seizure didn't stop. The monitor flatlined.

"No!" I screamed.

"Skin!" Dr. Aris shouted over the alarm. "He needs more skin!"

Without thinking, I ripped my shirt over my head, leaving me in just my thin lace bra. I laid my entire body over his bare chest, pressing my skin against his, my face buried in his neck.

"Come back to me," I sobbed against his skin. "Please, Enzo. Don't leave me."

For a terrifying second, nothing happened.

Then, I felt his arms slowly, weakly wrap around my waist. His chest heaved, a ragged, desperate intake of breath. The heart monitor started beeping again, slow and steady.

He was alive.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I belonged to the devil now. In every way.