Page 3 of Retribution
“You’re definitely family. He’s in surgery. Have a seat and someone will speak to you when they’re able to.”
Carter and I both walk into the waiting room and take a seat. An elderly man sits beside him, but it doesn’t take him long to switch chairs.
He taps his leg repeatedly, and I don’t have to ask what he’s thinking about. He wants to kill anyone standing between us and Heather. My brother is bristling with anger, it bounces off him in waves, which is probably why everybody in this room sits far away from him. As always, I have to control myself. I’m the stable one. The keeper of peace, as I attempt to keep Carter from unraveling and taking innocent lives. Just once, I want to give in to my urges. Destroy everything in my path because I’m furious that, once again, I could lose my brother and the girl that makes everything make fucking sense.
“He’s hurting her.” Carter says in a quiet, distraught voice. I’d like to assure him that he’s wrong, but I can’t. We’d both know it’s a lie. There are few guarantees in life, but this is one. Noah is hurting her.
My poor, Tesoro.
Under my breath, I whisper into the abyss, hoping it reaches her heart, “Sii forte, Tesoro.”Stay strong, Tesoro.
Heather has been through more trauma than most people experience in a lifetime. For her, it seems she gets a brief reprieve, but it never truly stops. She escapes the trauma to ultimately get pulled back into more of it.
“Killian Bonetti.” A male nurse yells, and we immediately rise to our feet.
“Your brother?” He asks with an arched eyebrow, spotting the obvious resemblance.
I nod, and he continues.
“Your brother is in recovery. He was banged up pretty badly when he was brought in and had emergency surgery to remove his spleen, but he should make a full recovery. Killian is agitated, demanding to leave the hospital. The doctor would like to keep him for forty-eight hours. For observation.”
Closing my eyes, I exhale a long breath as relief floods me.
Killian is alive.
“Can we see him?”
It’s not optional. Killian has the goddamn tracker on his phone. I’m so pissed we never put it on all our phones.
“He’s in recovery, so he’s in and out of it. It’s probably best to wait.”
My brother glances at me and then back at the nurse who has ‘Greg’ on his nametag.
Carter steps forward, and Greg steps back quickly.
Chuckling darkly, Carter stares at him, his eyes filled with an unspoken threat.
“I’m sorry, my brother misspoke. We are not requesting to see him, but demanding it. Now take us to his fucking room.”
The nurse holds his hand up. I think trying to calm Carter down, but when he opens his mouth to speak, I am slightly worried for his safety.
“Sir, we will let you know as soon as you can see him.”
Carter continues forward until Greg's back hits the wall, and my brother snarls.
“Wrong. Fucking. Answer.”
Once the nurse spots a fist pulled back, he has a change of heart.
“I guess you c-c-ould see him now.”
Carter steps away from him to give him room to move, and we follow him down the hall. Greg walks with a hand over his chest, no doubt trying to calm his racing heart. I’m not generally on board with scaring the hell out of innocent people, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I’m equally surprised and grateful that he didn’t have us thrown out instead of giving into Carter’s demands.
We step into the elevator, and Greg presses the button for the sixth floor, not saying a word to either of us. The doors slide open, and we follow him to room number 609.
“He’ll be in and out of consciousness, like I said.”
