Page 19 of Between Control and Chaos
We’re broken up.
It’s like a knife to my gut when I’ve already been poisoned and gasping for my last breath.
“Ashton, we have to go,” Luca’s voice pulls me from my reverie.
“Go?” I shake my head at Luca. “You’re just dropping him off and leaving?”
Hearing that hurts worse than the phantom knife.
If Ashton leaves with Luca, I’ll never forgive him.
“I have to go get Harper.” Luca stares at me for a fraction of a second. “Are you coming?” He glances back at Ashton as he walks backward toward the exit of the hospital and toward his awaiting vehicle.
“I have orders,” Ashton says, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “As do you.” He walks outside and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll never see him again.
Standing outside the car, it looks like Luca and Ashton are arguing.
I can’t make out the words being exchanged, and I walk away; it doesn’t matter.
I can’t do a damned thing to help Harper.
I hate waiting. Standing on my feet, pacing back and forth while my father is in the emergency room getting tended to by physicians, and I’m not allowed past the double doors while they take care of him.
Rolling my lips together, I stifle the tears, keeping them at bay.
“Nova, sweetie, why don’t you take a seat?” Mom’s voice is soft. She glances up at me, the pain obvious on her face.
Looking at her makes me want to bawl.
I glance away, glaring at Ashton who is covered in blood, his shirt stained crimson from carrying my father’s lifeless body inside the hospital.
It’s an image I don’t think I can ever unsee. He glances at his phone, wanders outside to take the call. He doesn’t so much as look at me, touch me.
He barely even acknowledges my existence.
Halsey storms into the building like he owns the place. Not only is he capo, but he’s Moreno’s cousin. There’s pain written all over his face, even though I see he tries to hide it behind his tough exterior.
I half expect him to storm up to the desk and demand an update.
No.
He approaches my mother and takes a seat beside her.
I can’t help but overhear their conversation.
“Any word yet?” Halsey asks, his expression grim.
Mom shakes her head and sniffles. Her hands are trembling as she grips a wrinkled tissue in her hand.
Halsey glances around, taking everything in. Surveying the exits, the staff, every person who enters and leaves the emergency room waiting area. His glances are calculated, the timing impeccable, like he’s constantly on high alert.
A guard dog.
Does he think that Nico will be back to finish the job and take out my father? Halsey can’t protect my dad from out here.
But he doesn’t seem to be barging in past the double doors.
“Have a seat,” Halsey says to me, gesturing to a chair.
