Carmen pressed down on Marco’s wound, her hands covered in blood.
“Stay with me, dammit!” she choked out, her voice raw with panic.
His skin was too pale, his body too still, and the blood—it wouldn’t stop. No matter how hard she pushed against the wound, it kept spilling through her fingers, soaking into his shirt, pooling onto the floor.
“Marco, please!” Her voice cracked.
Marco’s breaths came in shallow gasps, each one weaker than the last. His lashes fluttered, his gaze unfocused as he tried to look at her. His lips parted, but no words came—just a faint, ragged breath.
“No, no, no, don’t you dare close your eyes!” Carmen’s vision blurred with tears, but she refused to let go. She wouldn’t let him die.
Footsteps pounded behind her—Luca, frantic, his gun drawn.
“We need to get him out of here!” Luca snapped, his voice tight with urgency. “Now!”
Carmen barely registered his words. All she could hear was Marco’s breathing—too slow, too unsteady.
“Where the hell is the ambulance?!” Carmen screamed.
“It’s coming!” Luca crouched beside them, pressing his own hands over Marco’s wound, trying to stop the relentless bleeding. He met Carmen’s gaze, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t name.
Fear. Real, bone-deep fear.
Marco Venetti wasn’t supposed to bleed out in the middle of his own home.
“Who did this?” Carmen gasped, her heart hammering.
“No idea,” Luca gritted out. “Shooter was gone before I even got to the room.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t some botched attack.
This was personal.
A soft, broken sob snapped her attention downward.
Matteo.
Their son stood a few feet away, his small body trembling, his wide, terrified eyes locked on Marco’s motionless form.
“Mama…” Matteo whimpered, clutching his stuffed bear so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Is Papa dead?”
Carmen’s breath caught.
“No, baby,” she forced out, even as her hands trembled over Marco’s lifeless body. “He’s gonna be okay.”
But Matteo wasn’t listening. His tiny chest rose and fell too fast, his little fingers gripping at the hem of his pajama shirt.
Panic. Full-blown panic.Carmen had never seen him like this.
“Matteo, come here,” Luca said quickly, but the boy didn’t move. He just stood there, frozen, tears silently slipping down his cheeks.
Marco let out a soft, wet cough.
Carmen jerked back to him instantly.
“Marco?”
His lips barely moved, but he breathed, even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“C-Carmen…” It was so soft, she barely heard it.
“I’m here,” she whispered, leaning closer.
His fingers twitch, barely brushing hers. So weak.
“You have to stay awake, Marco.” Her voice shook. “Please.”
A faint, familiar smirk flickered across his lips—or maybe she imagined it.
“Boss, stay with us,” Luca muttered, shifting his grip on Marco’s wound. “Ambulance is almost here.”
But Marco’s eyes rolled back, his body going slack.
His chest stilled.
“No!” Carmen shook him, panic clawing at her throat.
Luca cursed under his breath.
“He’s not breathing!”
Carmen pressed her ear to his chest. No heartbeat. No rise and fall of his chest.
Everything inside her shattered.
“Marco!” she screamed, her voice raw, desperate.
Luca shoved her back.
“Move!” He placed both hands on Marco’s chest and started pressing down. One. Two. Three. Four. “Come on, come on, come on!” Luca growled through gritted teeth.
Carmen could barely breathe. She reached for Matteo, pulling him into her arms, shielding him from the sight.
Her son sobbed against her neck, his tiny body shaking.
“Fix him!” Matteo cried. “Mama, fix him!”
Carmen held him tighter, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs. “Luca, please!” she choked.
“I’m trying!” Luca’s voice cracked.
Marco wasn’t moving. Carmen felt like she was drowning, like the world was tilting, breaking, shattering—
Then—
A loud gasp.
Marco’s chest heaved. His entire body jerked. His eyelids fluttered.
Carmen sucked in a breath, tears spilling over.
“Oh my God…” she whispered.
Luca let out a shaky laugh, slumping back. “Jesus Christ.”
But there was no relief. Marco was still dying, still pale, bleeding, barely hanging on. The wail of ambulance sirens cut through the night air.
Carmen squeezed Marco’s hand, her tears splattering onto his skin. “You’re not leaving us, Marco,” she whispered. “You hear me? You’re gonna fight.”
Marco’s bloodstained lips barely moved. “Carmen…” It was so soft, so weak. “You have to… keep them safe.”
Marco’s eyes fluttered shut. The paramedics burst through the doors.
Carmen clutched Matteo tighter, watching in horror as they rushed Marco onto a stretcher, pressing oxygen to his face, working frantically.
Luca grabbed Carmen’s arm. “We need to go. Now.”
Carmen’s stomach dropped.
“Why?” she asked.
Luca’s jaw clenched. His eyes darted to the bullet-riddled window.
“Because whoever did this isn’t done yet.”