Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 73655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
"Jesus, Luna," the voice says. His voice says. I glance over, disappointment hits me right in the chest. It’s not Enzo, instead I find Thiago hobbling over as he holds onto the crutches. "Are you okay?"
My brows furrow and it all comes crashing back with clarity that has my eyes watering. Tears threaten to spill, but I blink them back as I find myself wanting only to know where Enzo is.
I nod slowly.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
"He's on his way," Thiago assures me before I can get my question out. It's as if he's reading my mind. The machines that are plugged into the wall beep, a stark reminder of what happened.
"It hurts," I croak as more pain skitters over my body. My limbs are numb, as if they're no longer there. Fear grips my chest, squeezing painfully, but when I look down at the bed, I can see the shape of my legs, my feet, and relief washes over me.
"I'll get the nurse," Thiago informs me before leaving me on my own once more to ponder what the hell happened. We were in the car when I remember a bright light, two of them, blinding me. Thiago swerved out of the way, and if it weren't for him, I doubt I would be here now.
If I were sitting behind him in the car, I may also not be alive, but I'd chosen to sit on the other side so I could talk to him while leaning forward onto the passenger seat. It was his idea because he didn't want me up front. He told me I was important, and that meant I should feel as if I were being escorted home.
I recall laughing at that.
And then, the loud crash that hit the back of the car as if they expected me to be behind him. The aim was there. And then, crunching metal echoed around us, sirens, paramedics talking, and then I blacked out.
When the door opens again, it's with a loud crash making me wince at the sound. "Luna," my name is a shocked whisper, but this time it's not Thiago at the door, it's the man who has stolen my heart.
But when I look over at him as he makes his way toward me, my stomach drops to my feet. He's covered in blood. His shirt is stained, and he's bandaged around his middle.
"What happened?" My voice scratches against my throat, causing me to cough, choking on the dryness. Enzo is at my side, holding my hand, his fingers grip my trembling digits as he brings them to his lips. "What happened?" I ask again when he doesn't answer.
Those dark eyes that always capture my gaze, drop to the bed. He takes me in, from my feet up to my head, before landing on my stare. "Your uncle will soon be dead." His words are confident. There is no doubt in my mind Enzo will be the one to pull the trigger, and I nod in understanding.
I didn't expect him to live.
I don't think I wanted him to live while knowing what he did to my father, to Enzo's parents. He deserves what he gets. All I can hope is that it will be painful.
"There was an accident," I tell Enzo who's just staring at me as if I weren't real. The disbelief on his face slowly morphs as he glances over his shoulder to Thiago who's returning with a nurse.
The men don't speak as she works on my drip, then she injects something I'm guessing is pain killers into the tube attached to my arm. "This will make you feel better," she affirms, and I nod.
Once we're alone again, Enzo turns to Thiago. "What happened?" His voice is croaky. I'm almost certain he's about to pass out, but when he settles in the chair which overlooks my bed, I notice how he isn't moving his arm.
"A car came at us, fucking SUV, right out of nowhere." Thiago's tone is tinged with guilt, but it's not his fault. We both didn't see it coming. We were almost home.
"Enzo," I whisper, as Thiago helps me, holding the glass of water and the straw so I can take a long sip before I feel as if I can talk again. "What happened at the docks?"
"I'm more concerned at what happened to you," he throws back with a glare on the younger man.
"It's not his fault. Stop being an asshole," I choke out, once again, a bout of coughing making my chest hurt. Both men are at my side, a third joins them moments later. Mario is here, his hands on my feet, but for some reason, his touch is non-existent.
"How are you fee—?"
"Touch my leg," I whisper, fear turning my blood to ice.
"What?" All three men say at once.