Page 71 of Always Meant To Be

It's been two hours since finding El, and we haven't heard anything.

Fuck, I think I'm going to be sick.

Just as the thought hits, the doctor comes in, sorrow in his eyes, and my brothers both grip my shoulders in support.

The man, in his late fifties and gray hair, stops before me and rasps, "Mr. Russo…the blow to your wife's head caused a lot of swelling. There's pressure on her brain from a brain bleed. We had to do an emergency procedure to drain the blood by drilling a hole in her skull." I flinch. He looks at me with sadness. "Due to the severity of the injury, your wife is in a coma." Mamma and Anastasia gasp. "There's a chance she could wake and all will be well, but…." He pauses for a moment, and I fist my hands, waiting to hear his words. "There's a chance she may wake with no memory, or suffer from short-term memory loss." He clears his throat. "There's a chance she may not wake at all."

My legs shake, absolute pain shooting through me as Anastasia screams with agony, and Mamma steps forward crying, "The baby, what about the baby?"

I look at the doctor, and he smiles. "He is doing okay so far. All signs look normal. She's thirty-two weeks, so if there are any signs of distress, then we'll do an emergency C-section. But for now, he can stay where he's warm and safe."

He. We're having a boy….

The doctor looks at me. "Mrs. Russo is currently in intensive care. The next forty-eight hours are critical, so only one person in at a time." He tilts his head. "Let me take you to your wife."

Anastasia steps forward and cries, "But I'm her mother." Mikhail pulls her back, knowing she's out of line.

She fucking abused her daughter, for fuck's sake.

I ignore both of them, and follow the doctor out of the waiting room and through the “Do Not Enter” doors.

He guides me down the hall before pointing to her door, and he rasps, "If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask."

I nod, and he turns and leaves me to it.

Slowly, I move my feet only to grip the door frame at the sight of my wife. Her face is bruised, there’s a tube down her throat, and there’s a strap around her belly, our baby's heartbeat echoing in the room from the monitor.

Quietly shutting the door, I walk over to her, and gently grab her hand. My eyes spot her wedding rings and necklace on a table near the bed.

With a lump in my throat, I slowly put her rings back on, then loop the chain of the necklace around her wrist twice before clasping it.

Once they're in place, I finally let myself fall apart.

I lean down, placing my face in her neck, and I sob my fucking heart out, my tears coating her skin.

"Please don't leave me, El," I sob, "I need you. Please, I can't live without you…."

I grip her hand, praying for her to wake, knowing if she dies, then I'll die right along with her.

Twenty-Five

Romeo – One Week Later

"P-please,R-Romeo, I'd-I'd never betray you," my drug runner, Lewis, stutters before me, running a hand through his bleach-blonde hair.

I smirk, tilting my head at him as I grab my knife and lean casually against the metal wall, keeping my eyes on him.

I never thought the fucker was this dumb. I've brought him to the warehouse where people never fucking leave.

"So, it wasn't you in the crack house on 5th Street yesterday snorting my cocaine?" I ask coolly as I lift my knife, putting the tip on my finger and gently twisting it with my other hand.

Lewis' throat bobs as he swallows. "N-no, I-I would n-never do that," he lies through his teeth. "You gave me a chance, g-got me off the street…."

I hum. "Hmm, so the video proof of you snorting it off some crack whore's bare tits is a fake, then?"

A tremor shoots through him, which I can see from here, and he fidgets. I smirk.

"O-of course, Romeo…" he lies again.