His Mafia Prince
Chapter 217: Never Like This

Chapter 217: Never Like This

(TYLER)

I don’t know how much time passes, or how many times I have to come out and deliver more no-news to the waiting Adonis family outside. I have to ignore the waiting cops too. But eventually, the surgeon comes out to speak to me. She looks more pleased with herself than the outcome, I think, because she confirms it when she speaks.

"Your alpha is a lucky man. The gunshots missed his vital organs. But there was one bleed that was tricky at first. That one will take quite some time to heal. But now, our main concern is the head injury."

"He got shot in the head?" for a moment, the room goes out of focus.

"No." the surgeon says then gestures at my shoulder, squeezing. "This injury was a blow to the head or maybe a fall. It caused some swelling in his brain, but that should subside with time as he heals. But since he is still unstable, we have him in an induced coma while he is on the ventilator."

"Is...is he going to live?" I’m struggling to pull air into my lungs.

"Yes." The surgeon says as though it is some foregone conclusion, as if she hadn’t noticed death slipping with her into the operating room. "He is going to live."

"When can I see him?" I ask hopefully.

It took so many hours and a lot of pointing out how much money we have given to the hospital before they let me see my husband in the ICU. Miles and Jericho did the heavy lifting in those negotiations and for that, I will forever be grateful to them, because I could barely speak.

And when they finally let me walk into that little room to see him, just for a moment, I almost walked straight back out and told them that they made a mistake. I just couldn’t believe that it was Sasha. My Sasha, covered in masks and tubes and lying more still than he has ever been in his life.

Now, even with a few days passed, when he has been moved into a private recovery ward and I can stay with him as long as I please, I still get the urge to argue with the staff.

This isn’t Sasha, the man lying on this bed isn’t my husband.

He has always had a pale skin, but he has never been this colorless. He is almost disappearing into the sheets, if not the spill of his black hair on the pillow. More than that, the man lying on the bed looks too fragile.

Empty even.

He looks so empty that I can’t help but be worried every hour. I’m terrified that he might just... let go. So I have been cradling his palm into mine, anxious that I might end up hurting him even more. But this is what I have to keep him here. Just anchor him to the living.

Now, the ventilator has already been removed, along with the drugs that kept him in a coma, but still, he hasn’t woken up.

The doctors have told me that now, it is a waiting game. That Sasha will wake up when he is ready to. I can’t help being terrified that he might not wake up at all. I cannot even ask if that’s a possibility. If he won’t open those honey pool eyes again. Of course, that surgeon assured me that he will be okay. But he looks nothing close to okay.

I think of all the people that may have set foot in this same room and didn’t make it out alive. God! I hate hospitals.

Sasha’s hand is neither warm nor cold. His skin feels dry, and his fingers just lie there in mine. Before today, he always held my hands tight. Far too tight even sometimes, but always secure. I have always felt secure in his arms even when we were sleeping.

I squeeze his hand hard. "I’m here, baby." I almost sob. It is the same thing that I’ve been repeating in the last hour. The only thing that I can tell him without choking on my own tears. I can’t risk going anywhere near what my heart truly wants to tell him. Because if I do, I will lose it completely.

So I just sit, holding his hand.

And I replay again and again how we ended up in this situation. But none of those things that happened is the root cause for why Sasha is lying here with all manner of tubes and bandages all over him.

No.

He is lying here because he wanted to rescue me. Me. I am the cause of all this.

Many hours in the hospital seem to drag. Some fly past. The only time that I leave the room is when it is absolutely necessary and I’m not even sure how long it has been since the attack.

The nurses have been kind enough to let me usher the shower in Sasha’s room. And after, I slept on the chair more than once. I heard Miles speak to somebody about setting me a camp bed. It is against the hospital policies to be staying in here with Sasha like this. Even so, the camp bed appeared. It’s either the hospital staff know better than to try and keep me out, or Miles, or Jericho, or just somebody from the Triple Triads has laid it out for them, nice and easy.

And I know that Miles is doing something to keep the cops off my ass. When Sasha was in the operating room, I gave a brief, vague statement to some lady that introduced herself as detective Francesca Vitali. But since then, I haven’t had to face the law.

Every day, there are more Triple Triad guards at the door, and from what I overheard, the Sharks Clan are making moves on the Triple Triads. In the meantime, the police are trying to close in on Sasha and charge him with anything that they think might stick. So I’m not even sure what will happen when Sasha wakes up.

If he wakes up.

I will not let myself think of anything else.

***

I’m woken up from my sleep next to Sasha’s bed by the sound of the door opening. I’m already on edge, so anytime somebody walks into the room. I’m quick to notice. My head jerks up and I whip around as I scope the room.

"Tyler," Lucia says in a soft voice. "I’m so sorry." She then pulls me into a warm, soft hug. A hug heartier than the ones I’ve been receiving from other people. But I’m so worn right now, that I don’t care. I hug her fight back and let her rub between my shoulders with a soothing rhythm.

"What are you doing here?" I sniffle and she lets me go. I stretch up from the chair in which I’ve been hunching. My back whines.

"Where else would I be?" She takes a hold of my hand and looks at Sasha. Her other hand comes to her throat and she sucks in a shaky breath. "Oh, my baby." She says at last. "I’m so sorry this happened to you." She turns to me. "Is it true that the Irish are the ones who attacked him like this?"

I nod.

She swallows. "Will Sasha...I mean, what did the doctors say?"

"They said that he will be okay. But when I see him lie there like that, I don’t...I don’t know if I believe them." My voice breaks and for a moment, I tug my hand away from Lucia’s, head over to get a glass of water from the other side of the room, get myself together. "You want some?"

"No, thanks. I’m fine." She says. She then reaches out, her hand hovering over Sasha’s then she pulls back.

"You can touch him." I offer, glancing over my shoulder. I’m so beat that I have to concentrate on getting water from the jug into the paper cup. "God knows I do. I’ve been holding this cup so damn tightly that I think I might have cut off the circulation."

She sits on the uncomfortable chair that I just vacated then says, "Hi, Sasha." She slides her fingers into his. "I’m so sorry to see you like... this." She pauses for a bit before saying the last word. It makes me smile cynically.

I come back, chewing on the rim of the paper cup rather than drinking the water, looking down at my alpha. "He is tough." I echo what I’ve heard more than one Triple Triad men say outside. "He will pull through."

"Of course, he will." She says and gives me one of her genuine smiles. "How are you though? You’ve had a terrible time yourself."

About twenty minutes later, a signal knock interrupts us on the door. A specific pattern. Lucia glances over her shoulder. "I’m sorry, that’s Nico."

"Nico is here too?"

"Yes, along with my security detail. Since what happened, Miles insisted on extra protection."

"Oh." For a moment, I wonder if having extra protection would have made any difference to me, Sasha and Jericho. Maybe not. Maybe just more dead than damaged.

The door opens again but this time, it is Miles. "Hi, ma’am. He squeaks. "Tyler, I thought maybe you needed a few minutes for a stretch. I can sit with Sasha. If you want."

"Yes, I could use that actually." I say, although the last thing that I want to do is leave Sasha’s side. But I feel tired and my whole body is stiff. My head feels heavy and dull. Leaving the room, even if it will be for just a few minutes, will wake me up. Maybe.

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