Luca stood in front of the massive front door, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. The words were still there, deeply carved into the wood:
I SHOULD HAVE AIMED HIGHER.His stomach tightened. Someone had walked up to this house—Marco’s house—and left this message, knowing damn well it would send a warning.
“Son of a bitch,” Luca muttered under his breath. He traced the deep grooves of the letters, feeling his blood pressure spike.
This wasn’t just a threat. This was a promise. Someone wasn’t done. And Marco needed to know.
***
At the hospital, Luca pushed open the door to Marco’s hospital room, but the moment his eyes landed on the bed, he froze. Marco was awake. And he looked furious.
His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the hospital bed, his jaw clenched, his breathing shallow. His eyes—sharp, burning, dangerous—snapped to Luca the second he stepped inside.
“Where is he?” Marco’s voice was raw, but there was no weakness behind it. Just pure, lethal intent.
Luca shut the door behind him, crossing his arms. “We still don’t know but the investigation is ongoing.”
Marco’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t believe that.”
Luca sighed. This was exactly why he didn’t want to tell Marco yet.
“You just woke up. You need to rest.”
“The hell I do.” Marco shoved the blanket off his lap, wincing when pain shot through his body. He grabbed the IV in his arm like he was about to rip it out.
“Marco, stop!”
“Then tell me who the hell shot me!” Marco roared.
Luca exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
“Look, man…” He hesitated, then finally said it. “It’s worse than we thought.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed. Luca pulled out his phone, swiping through his pictures before holding up the screen.
“Someone left this on your front door. Carmen saw it.”
Marco stilled. His gaze locked onto the image—the words carved deep into the wood. His face turned to stone.
“I should have aimed higher,” Marco muttered under his breath, his fingers twitching against the sheets. Luca braced himself.
Then—Marco ripped the IV from his arm. Blood trickled down his forearm, staining the sheets.
“Jesus Christ, Marco!”
Marco swung his legs over the side of the bed, breathing hard. “I need to get home.”
“You’re not even supposed to be awake yet!”
“I don’t give a damn.” Marco’s voice was low, deadly. “Someone is out there targeting my family. And I won’t be lying in a damn hospital while it happens.”
Luca cursed under his breath.
“I’m calling Doctor Gomez,” he muttered, already dialing. But Marco wasn’t listening. He was already trying to stand.
***
Marco wasn’t the same. Ever since he stepped back inside the house, his paranoia had doubled. Every shadow felt like a threat. Every sound made his jaw tighten. He barely spoke. He barely slept. But worst of all? Matteo was afraid of him. Marco noticed it the second he tried to pull his son into his arms.
Matteo flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Marco felt it like a knife in his chest.
“Matteo?” Marco’s voice was softer now.
But Matteo just shook his head, his tiny fingers gripping Carmen’s sweater instead. Marco’s stomach hollowed out.
“Come here, bud,” Marco tried again, reaching for him.
Matteo backed away. Marco froze. Carmen pressed a gentle kiss to Matteo’s head, whispering something soothing.
Marco just stood there, watching. Watching his own son turn away from him. “He’s just scared,” Carmen finally said, her voice soft. Marco swallowed hard. “Of me?”
Carmen hesitated. Didn’t answer. And that told him everything.
Carmen felt like she was falling apart. Marco was obsessed with finding the shooter. He wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t listen to the doctor.
And Matteo… Matteo was not okay. He wouldn’t sleep alone. He hid under tables whenever someone knocked on the door.
Every night, Carmen held him close, trying to soothe his tiny, trembling body. But nothing worked. Nothing was the same. And Carmen had no one to help her.
Marco was too consumed with his paranoia. Luca was dealing with security threats.
And she? She was exhausted. Completely, utterly exhausted.
And then—
Marco collapsed. Carmen barely had time to react. One second, Marco was standing in the living room, looking through security footage. The next? His legs buckled. His body crashed to the floor. Carmen’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Marco!” she cried, running to him.
He was breathing, but barely. His skin was clammy, his forehead drenched in sweat.
He had pushed himself too hard. And now, he was paying for it. Carmen looked at Luca, her eyes desperate.
“He needs help.” Her voice was shaking.
Luca nodded. “I’ll make the call.”
Carmen pressed her forehead to Marco’s, swallowing hard. She couldn’t do this alone anymore. She needed help.