Chapter 9 - Thread and Needle
"Sit him down on the chaise," I commanded, my caregiver instincts instantly overriding any shock or hesitation. "Marco, bring me the trauma kit from the third-floor medical cabinet and clean towels. Now!"
Marco bolted to obey.
Luca sank onto the antique settee, his breathing shallow, his face pale beneath the bronzed skin. Even wounded, his eyes tracked me as I swiftly knelt before him, stripping away his ruined jacket and tearing open the soaked dress shirt beneath.
"I told you... you shouldn't worry about me," he grunted through clenched teeth as my fingers pressed around the wound.
"Quiet," I snapped with an authority that surprised even myself. "You run Chicago, Luca, but in this room, I run you. Breathe through your nose."
Teresa sat beside him, taking his uninjured hand, her expression entirely composed despite the terror in her heart. "Listen to the girl, son. She saved my dignity; she can certainly stitch your foolish hide."
Marco returned seconds later, dropping the medical supplies beside me. The wound was clean—a grazing shot across his left rib cage that had gouged deep into the flesh but had miraculously missed internal organs. A fraction of an inch to the right, and the slug would have punctured his lung.
I poured antiseptic directly onto the laceration. Luca’s muscles knotted like iron cables, his jaw clenched so hard a vein bulged in his temple, but not a single groan escaped his lips. His eyes stayed locked on mine, intense, searing, finding an anchor in my unwavering focus.
"You have steady hands, Emily," he murmured, his voice low and vibrating against my chest as I threaded the surgical needle.
"They have to be," I replied softly, beginning the stitches with practiced, methodical precision. "When someone’s life is in your hands, trembling isn't an option."
"Vance ambushed our convoy two blocks from the club," Luca said, speaking through the pain to keep his mind off the needle. "Three cars. They thought they could catch me off-balance because of the split with Gia. They assumed I had grown weak without their political protection."
"And what did they learn?" Teresa asked coldly.
A dark, terrifying smile touched the corners of Luca's mouth. "They learned that a tiger without a cage is far more dangerous than one tied to a leash. Old Man Vance won't see tomorrow’s sunrise. But his younger brother, Julian... he slipped away."
I tied off the final knot and applied a sterile dressing, smoothing the medical tape across his broad, scarred torso. As my fingers lingered against his warm skin for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a distinct shiver ran through him.
Luca looked down at my hands, then reached up, his large, calloused fingers closing gently over my wrist. "Thank you, Emily."
The room seemed to shrink to just the two of us. The blood, the gunfire, the storm outside all faded into the background.
May you like
"Always," I whispered, our gazes tangled in a silent understanding that neither of us had yet found the courage to speak aloud.
***