Chapter 4 — “You’re Supposed to Be Dead.”

Carmine let go of me.

Gabriel’s eyes opened.

They didn’t open fully at first. His lashes lifted, fell, then lifted again. He stared at the ceiling while his chest struggled beneath the blankets.

“Mr. Falcone?”

His gaze moved toward my voice.

I had never seen him look uncertain before.

Then he saw Carmine.

Something changed in his face.

“Rossi.”

The word was rough, barely more than air.

Dr. Mitchell dropped the body bag.

Carmine backed into him.

“No.”

Gabriel tried to push himself upright. His arm failed, and I caught his shoulder before he fell against the rail.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “You’re hurt.”

Carmine stared at him.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

Gabriel’s hand closed around mine.

“Disappointed?”

Carmine reached inside his jacket.

I saw the movement before I saw the gun.

There were perhaps three steps between him and the bed. I had spent years measuring rooms by what needed cleaning, by how far I could carry a full bucket without stopping.

Now I measured the space between his hand and Gabriel’s chest.

I moved.

My feet struck the floor, and I drove into Carmine before he had fully raised the weapon.

The shot was deafening.

Plaster burst from the ceiling.

He hit the cabinet behind him. Glass cracked, then broke around us. Something hard struck my shoulder, and a tray clattered across the floor.

We fell together.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

Carmine twisted beneath me, fighting to bring the gun around.

I caught his wrist.

“Get off me!”

His elbow hit my ribs.

Pain flashed across my side. I tightened both hands around his forearm and shoved it away from my body.

He was stronger than I expected.

I was heavier than he expected.

Neither of us had room to move properly among the broken glass and fallen supplies.

The gun struck the tile.

He tried to pull it free.

I pressed his wrist down again.

“Matilda!”

Gabriel’s voice sounded far away.

Carmine grabbed a handful of my hair.

My head jerked back.

I cried out, and he used that instant to turn his shoulder beneath me.

The barrel moved toward the bed.

I slammed his wrist against the floor with everything I had left.

His fingers opened.

The weapon slid under the edge of a trolley.

I reached for it.

Carmine caught the back of my uniform and hauled me sideways.

“Mitchell,” Gabriel said.

The doctor stood against the wall, his hands raised as though he could remove himself from the room by refusing to touch it.

“Get the gun.”

Mitchell didn’t move.

Carmine kicked at my leg.

“Shoot him, Harrison! Finish it!”

The doctor looked toward the bed.

Gabriel’s eyes held him.

“Now.”

Mitchell dropped to his knees.

I saw his hand disappear beneath the trolley. Carmine saw it, too, and made a desperate effort to throw me off.

I brought my knee beside his shoulder and held on.

The doctor pulled out the gun.

For one terrible moment, I thought he might obey Carmine.

Then he put it on the mattress beside Gabriel’s hand.

“Matilda,” Gabriel said.

I couldn’t turn.

Carmine’s breath came hot against my face.

“You stupid bitch.”

“Matilda. Look at me.”

I looked.

Gabriel had the gun.

His arm shook, but the barrel didn’t wander.

“Move away from him.”

I tried to stand. My right knee slipped on a wet patch, and I caught myself against the cabinet frame.

Glass bit into my palm.

Mitchell came forward as though to help.

“Don’t touch her,” Gabriel said.

The doctor stopped.

I crawled sideways, then pulled myself upright using the counter.

Carmine rolled onto his elbow.

“Gabriel. Listen.”

Gabriel’s breathing was ragged.

“You opened the warehouse door.”

I looked between them.

Carmine’s face had gone strangely slack.

“I didn’t know they’d shoot. They said they wanted the shipment.”

“You stepped outside before they came in.”

“I was making a call.”

“And now you’re holding a gun in my medical room.”

Carmine raised his empty hands.

“I panicked. The doctor said you were dead. Anyone would have panicked.”

Gabriel glanced at me.

My uniform sleeve was torn. Blood ran from my palm onto the counter.

His expression hardened.

Carmine saw it.

“Don’t do this over a maid.”

The first shot struck before I could close my eyes.

The second followed almost immediately.

Carmine fell backward among the broken glass.

I stood very still.

I had known what Gabriel was.

Knowing had not prepared me for watching a man stop moving because Gabriel decided he should.

The room rang.

Gabriel lowered the gun.

“Matilda.”

I couldn’t answer.

He set the weapon beside him, away from my reach.

“Come here.”

I looked at Carmine.

His eyes were open.

“Don’t look at him,” Gabriel said quietly.

I forced myself to turn.

There was blood on Gabriel’s bandage.

Fresh blood.

I crossed the room.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Mitchell.”

The doctor came alive at once.

He pulled gloves from a box, reached for the dressing, and began issuing hurried instructions to himself.

Gabriel caught his wrist.

“Before you touch me, tell me what you did.”

Mitchell swallowed.

“I tried to save you.”

“You declared me dead.”

“There were complications. Your temperature, the substance in your system—”

“You were carrying a body bag.”

“I believed—”

“Stop explaining what you believed. Help me stay alive.”

Mitchell nodded so hard his glasses slipped.

I stepped back to give him room.

Gabriel’s hand reached for mine again.

I hesitated because my palm was cut.

He saw the blood.

“Your other hand.”

I gave it to him.

His grip was weak, but deliberate.

Mitchell uncovered part of the dressing and swore under his breath.

I watched his face.

“Is it bad?”

“I need her out of the way,” he said.

Gabriel tightened his fingers around mine.

“She stays.”

“I need equipment from the cabinet.”

“The unbroken one,” Gabriel said.

I would have laughed if I had been capable of anything except trembling.

The doctor moved quickly now. He reconnected lines, checked the monitor, and adjusted the bed. A green trace appeared on the screen.

I stared at it.

There.

Visible.

Something besides my desperate hope.

Mitchell checked the reading twice.

“You need rest. You’ve lost blood. Moving like that—”

“Phone,” Gabriel said.

“It can wait.”

“No, it can’t.”

The doctor glanced at Carmine.

For the first time, he seemed to understand that the danger hadn’t ended when the gun fell silent.

He took a phone from his pocket.

Gabriel tried to accept it, but his fingers didn’t close properly.

I caught it before it slipped.

“Which number?”

“Lorenzo.”

The name was saved in the doctor’s contacts.

I pressed it.

It rang twice.

“Mitchell?”

Gabriel nodded toward the speaker.

I switched it on and held the phone near him.

“Lorenzo.”

Silence.

Then a chair scraped on the other end.

“Boss?”

“Bring Dominic. Your own men. Nobody Rossi chose.”

“Where are you?”

“The east wing.”

“I’m coming.”

“Don’t announce it.”

The call ended.

I put the phone on the pillow.

My legs began shaking harder.

I tried to hide it by leaning against the mattress, but Gabriel noticed.

“Sit.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“Sit down, Matilda.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

His face had lost some of its color again.

The doctor worked without looking at either of us.

Gabriel’s eyes began to close.

Fear moved through me so sharply that I grabbed his hand.

“Stay awake.”

He opened them a little.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

The words came out before I could make them polite.

His mouth shifted faintly.

Then the fresh blood reached the outer edge of the bandage.

I looked at Mitchell.

“Do something.”

“I am.”

Gabriel pulled my hand closer.

His next words were so quiet that I had to bend to hear them.

“Don’t leave yet.”