Page 66 of Mafia Daddy

I push the car faster, the satnav counting down the minutes to the hospital. My mind races.

What if the Leones have people watching the hospital?

What if we are walking into a trap?

But Kobek’s breathing is getting shallower. I have no choice.

“Come on,” I whisper, both to myself and to him. “Just hold on a little longer.”

The road straightens out. I floor it, the engine roaring. Trees blur past on either side. In the mirror, Kobek’s eyes are half-closed, but he is still pressing the towel to his chest. He is fighting. Good. I need him to keep fighting.

I think back to the compound, to that childhood memory of my father storming out after arguing with Paolo. The whispered phone call. “There is no going back now.” The more I replay it, the more certain I become that my uncle had something to do with my father’s death. The realization sits like ice in my stomach. If that is true, then everything I thought I knew about my family is a lie.

But right now, none of that matters.

Right now, I just need to get Kobek to the hospital alive.

The satnav says twelve minutes. I grip the wheel tighter and pray we can make it in ten…

The hospital parking lot comes into view like a beacon of desperate hope. I screech the sedan into the emergency entrance, tires squealing against the asphalt.

Kobek is barely conscious in the back seat now, his breathing shallow and ragged. The towel pressed to his chest is soaked through with blood.

I jump out of the driver’s seat and yank open the rear door.

“Kobek, stay with me,” I plead, sliding my arm under his shoulders. “We’re here. Just a little further.”

He groans but manages to nod.

Together we stagger toward the automatic doors of the ER. He is heavy, leaning almost all his weight on me, but adrenaline and sheer terror keep me moving. The doors slide open and a nurse behind the triage desk looks up, eyes widening at the sight of us: me in blood-stained clothes, Kobek pale and bleeding heavily.

“Help!” I shout. “He’s been shot!”

Chaos erupts instantly. Two orderlies rush forward with a gurney. They take Kobek from me and lay him down. A doctor appears almost immediately, barking orders as they wheel him away through the swinging doors into the treatment area.

I try to follow, but a nurse gently holds me back.

“You need to stay here and let us work,” he says firmly. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. Just him. Please… save him.”

He nods and hurries after the team. I am left standing in the bright, sterile waiting area, blood on my hands and clothes, heart pounding so hard I feel dizzy. I

pull out my phone with shaking fingers and try Maxim. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again… same thing.

A third time. Nothing.

Worry coils tight in my stomach. Something is wrong. Maxim always answers. Always. Unless… unless something has happened to him too.

Kobek’s weak voice cuts through my panic. He has been wheeled back out briefly on the gurney while they prepare an operating room. His eyes are glassy but focused on me.

“Milo,” he rasps. “Take the car. Get the hell out of here. I can look after myself now.”

I shake my head, tears spilling over. “I can’t just leave you.”

“You must,” he insists, coughing wetly. “If they followed us, they will come here. Go. Tell Maxim… tell him I did my job.”

The orderlies start wheeling him away again. I stand there frozen for a second, torn between staying and running.