SARAHThe TV was on low. Some lighthearted crime show called Brooklyn Dames, about two women who ran a bakery in the front and a private detective agency in the back. It was stupid and silly and full of dumb one-liners, but I loved it. One of them always wore leopard print, the other cursed like a sailor. They cracked jokes while chasing criminals and never missed a beat with their red lipstick.I had my knitting needles in hand, something soft and white starting to take shape on my lap. I wasn’t making anything in particular. Just moving the yarn around, keeping my fingers busy, keeping my mind calm.The living room was quiet. The whole house was, really. Marco had gone out earlier something about a short meeting that wouldn’t take too long. I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t want to ruin the peace. It was just me and the staff, and even they stayed out of the way unless I needed something.The morning sun poured in through the windows. I shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket ove
SARAHI woke up warm.My legs were tangled with Marco’s. His arm was wrapped tight around my waist, and his chest rose and fell slow against my back. We were still half-covered by the sheets, everything still a mess from the night before.I didn’t want to move.I stayed still, breathing him in. The way his skin smelled. The heat of him behind me. I felt safe. For once, I wasn’t waking up afraid or in pain or crying. I was just… here. With him.“Morning,” Marco’s voice was low and rough in my ear.I smiled. “You’re awake?”“Been awake. You were snoring.”“I was not.”He laughed softly. “Little grunts. Cute ones. Like a tired puppy.”I turned in his arms and faced him, putting my hand on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. I started tracing the tattoo near his collarbone. Then the one on his shoulder. He watched me do it, eyes lazy.“You always stare at me like that when I’m naked?” he asked.I smirked. “Only when you’ve earned it.”“Oh, I earned it?”I leaned in and kissed the ink jus
SARAHI woke up to the smell of espresso. Rich, warm, strong. It filled the room before my eyes even opened.“Morning, sleepyhead,” Marco’s voice came through with a smile. “Guess who brought breakfast in bed?”I blinked up at him, messy hair and all. He stood there, holding a tray with two mugs and a small plate of toast and eggs. He looked too proud for a man holding food like that.“You trying to spoil me?” I yawned, stretching carefully. My side still ached a little if I moved too fast.“Nah,” he said, placing the tray gently on my lap. “You’re just turning into a spoiled little princess. Next thing I know, you’ll be ringing a bell for grapes.”I smirked. “Only if you feed them to me one at a time.”He raised a brow, pulled up a chair beside the bed. “I’m not above that. I got butler skills.”“Marco, the last time you made toast, the kitchen almost caught fire.”“That’s slander.”“That’s facts.”He laughed, handing me the mug. “Eat. Doctor’s orders. You need the strength.”“Why? Y
SARAHIt’s been a week.I blinked up at the ceiling, still half-asleep. My body felt heavy, like I’d just come out of a long swim. My limbs ached a little, the kind of ache that didn’t scare me anymore. Just the reminder that I was healing. Still here.I turned my head slowly and saw Marco beside me, sleeping. His breathing was soft, steady. One hand rested over his chest, the other draped halfway off the bed. His face looked calm—less tense than usual. Less burdened. I smiled, dragging the tip of my finger across his jaw, down to his lips. He didn’t flinch.I leaned closer and kissed his forehead, careful not to wake him. He deserved rest. God knows he hadn’t had much of it lately.Slipping out of bed, I moved slowly. My legs weren’t what they used to be. My body still felt like it was figuring itself out again. But I was up, and I was moving, and that was enough.I looked around the room. It was the same space, the same walls, same scent—but it hit different now. After everything. A
MARCOThe office was a mess.Stacks of paper all over the place. Unread letters. Open files. Phone numbers scribbled on napkins and matchbooks. My desk looked like it hadn’t been touched in weeks, because it hadn’t. Everything after the warehouse, after Sarah, after the hospital, none of this mattered until now.I sat behind the desk and just stared at the mess for a minute. Sighed. Pulled the closest pile toward me.Shipment logs, missing crates, unsigned wire transfers, lists of guys needing greenlights for pickups, some bullshit about territory numbers. We’d let it all pile up while I was at war with the Rossis. And then when Aisha pulled out, it just made it worse. Like the whole left side of our operation stopped breathing.I leaned back in the chair, ran a hand over my face, then started digging in.One paper at a time.I signed off a few delayed shipments first—some in Queens, some in Jersey. Then went over the list of crews still active. Tony kept them moving while I was out,
MARCOI woke up as the nurse came in quiet that morning, like she didn’t wanna wake the dead.She had a soft look on her face, not the usual kind you see on shift changes. She stood by the door for a second, then said, “Doctor’s signing the discharge. You’re going home today.”Sarah didn’t speak. She just gave a small nod, slow, like her neck hurt to move. Her hands were curled in the blanket, pale and still. I looked at her for a beat, then nodded back to the nurse. She gave a faint smile, the kind that tries to mean well, then left us alone again.I helped Sarah sit up. She winced, but didn’t complain. My arm was behind her back, firm but careful. She felt small, light—like the hospital bed had drained whatever weight she had left.“You okay?” I asked.She didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, breathing shallow. Then she nodded, not looking at me.I walked over to the sink and ran some water. Got her toothbrush ready. She moved slow, like each motion was a decision. I held her u
SARAHThe first thing I heard was the soft beep of machines. Slow, steady. My head felt heavy, like I was coming out of a long tunnel. My throat burned, and my body ached in places I couldn’t name.I opened my eyes, just a little. White ceiling. Bright lights. Hospital.I blinked slowly and turned my head. The room was quiet. No voices. No Marco.My chest tightened.I looked toward the chair beside the bed. Empty.Where is he?I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my side. I stopped, breathing through it. My hand reached for the blanket. My fingers were weak, shaky.The door creaked open, and a nurse walked in. She had soft eyes, a calm face. Her steps were quiet. She glanced at the machines, then at me.“Oh, you’re awake,” she said, walking over. Her voice was gentle. “Take it slow, okay?”I nodded faintly. My lips moved, but no sound came out. I had to swallow twice before I could speak.“Where’s Marco?” I whispered.She smiled a little. “Your husband hasn’t left the hospital. He
MARCOThe doctor looked at me and paused. His face was calm, too calm. My heart dropped right there.Then he said it.“We lost the baby.. It was a boy...”I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just stood there, stuck in that moment.“What?”My voice came out hoarse. I wasn’t sure I said it right.The doctor sighed, slow.“There was too much trauma. Too much blood loss. We had to make a split-second decision, Mr Marco. It was either Sarah… or the baby.”I stepped forward, shaking my head. “No, no—don’t say that. Don’t fuckin’ say that to me.”He raised his hands a bit, like he was trying to calm me. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But we had to act fast. There was no time to—”“You could’ve saved both!” I barked. My voice cracked. “You didn’t try hard enough!”“There wasn’t enough time,” he repeated. “Her pulse dropped. She flatlined for a moment. We brought her back. If we hesitated, you’d have lost them both.”“No,” I muttered. I couldn’t breathe right. “No, you’re supposed to be the fuckin’ expe
BANG.BANG.BANG.I heard the shots before I even realized what was happening. And then I saw her fall.“Sarah!”Everything froze.Her body hit the floor like something snapped in me. Blood poured out too fast. Too red. My heart dropped straight out of my chest.I didn’t even look at Marcel. I knew Petrov and Tony had hit him. I saw him slump to the ground in my peripheral. But all I could focus on was her. Sarah. My wife. My everything. Lying there in a puddle of blood, her stomach bleeding out.“No… no, no, no…”I dropped to my knees, my hands trembling as I reached for her.Her blood was everywhere. It soaked into her shirt, into the carpet, onto my hands.“Sarah—hey, baby. Hey.”Her eyes blinked, slow and weak. She looked like she was slipping. She reached out and grabbed my jacket with what little strength she had left.“I’m here,” I said, holding her hand. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”Shots rang out behind me again—Petrov and Tony going after Isabella as she r