Chapter 16: Chapter 16

◆ MILES ◆

"What d'you mean 'we can't leave'?"

"The risk is too high."

"Her dad's critical in the hospital." I took a step back and sighed out loud. The frustration, confusion, and worsening anxiety was already constricting my chest. My father's inexorable response did nothing but thin out my patience.

Fine. We shouldn't just leave the estate after what happened to Cloe and their convoy, but until when?  Come dusk, Mykaela's dad might already be dead and she wouldn't even get to hug him one last time before he got shoved six feet under.

Shit. I couldn't let that happen. It would only trigger her anxiety attacks and possibly another major depressive episode. "I'm taking her to the airport. Tomorrow noon, the latest."

"They could be right outside those gates!" Pappa glared at me. He sighed and hastily took off his specs, seeming exasperated at my refusal to stay in the estate. "Why won't you just listen?"

"Why do you keep lying and controlling everything in my life!"

"Sta' zitto e ascolta!'

I turned away from my father, failing to keep my sentiments to myself. I glanced at Mamma.  She sat behind the crowded desk. Her cheeks shone under the bright lights. Her smooth face now looked damp with tears.  For a moment, I felt sorry, but I had to get Mykaela out of here. Fast.  "Done with you lying, manipulative crooks."

That was all I said before walking out on my dumbfounded parents, leaving them alone in the study room.

They deserved it. They'd been lying to me all this time...manipulating me and keeping a bunch of secrets that could've endangered Mykaela's life and mine.  Right now, getting her home safe and away from these people was all that mattered. Just what I had to do.

◇ KEL ◇

Early 30s, unconscious, tall, familiar, and bleeding from gunshot wounds...

Alert and helpful, Ricchar's guards had helped me stop the bleeding. I was able to bandage up the wounds on mystery guy's arm, neck, and forehead with surprising ease, considering I hadn't done anything like it before.

Sure. I had worked in a hospital before, but it was mostly lab work. My college years and first job trained me in first aid in a hospital setting, but I had never stitched up two gunned down victims by myself. Until today. I could CPR the crap out of a dummy, but not until today had I actually tried to revive a human being from near death.

To my relief, I didn't need to use the quite old AED in the medicine cabinet, which the Falcos had also stockpiled. "We gotta drive them to the hospital."  I took off my mask and tried not to sigh my disappointment. Optimism and presence of mind were crucial at the moment.  I picked up the guy's blood-drenched clothes strewn below the operating table. "I'm not a doctor. I stitched 'em up but they need tests, proper monitoring."

"Mi spiace, Signorina. È solo che al momento non è sicuro per te uscire," advised one of Ricchar's security guys with the walkie-talkie.

"But we have to take them to the ER. He's stable enough." I put my fingers on the barely conscious guy's neck. Enzo Tomassini―as I'd been told. He had wavy brown hair like Miles, but Enzo's was  longer and dark stubble covered his angular jaw.  "The bleeding's stopped and his pulse is stronger." Good thing we didn't have to do a blood transfusion for now.

"Grazie." One of the guards, the oldest one with graying beard, smiled at me and sighed. A grateful sigh, it seemed.

"You know him, Sir?"

"Sì." The older guy wiped sweat off his glistening forehead with a bloodstained handkerchief. His voice sounded gruff. "Enzo is my boss."

"Oh." So he was the injured guy's personal bodyguard. "Glad you weren't hurt. Thanks for taking care of the bleeding back there."

"Our cars were ambushed," the bodyguard said with a slight Italian accent. "I wear a vest. Enzo does not like wearing his set." The man in the crumpled and bloodstained suit shook his head weakly, regret evident in his voice. Without his help and vigilance, though, Enzo and Cloe would have bled to death in the car in the middle of the dirt road.

My exhausted brain didn't like imagining how it all went down.

"Berto," a strained voice called out.

The half-naked guy lying beside me now looked fully awake, about to sit up. I held him down by placing my hands on his unharmed shoulder. "Mr. Tomassini, stay still; you're okay."

"Berto?" The guy shifted on the table and groaned, his voice louder and huskier. "Dov'è? Rafa?" His dilated gray eyes darted around the room. The lights shone on his bloodstained chest, neck, shoulders, and arms.

His wounds still needed some more cleaning up but he was already awake. Should I use a strong anesthetic? "Sir." I motioned for the guy's bodyguard, who was now taking tentative steps forward.

"Enzo, calmati," the guard told his wounded boss. "Ti porteremo in ospedale."

"Ospedale?" Enzo grunted in pain again. His eyes squeezed shut while I held him still. "Cazzo."

"Sorry." I loosened my grip on his bare arm. "Mr. Tomassini, relax. You'll bust your stitches open."

"Who are you?" Enzo glanced at me and then at Berto, his worried bodyguard.

"We'll take you to the hospital, but you have to relax and stay still," I told the guy as loud and clear as possible.

"I don't know you," the guy mumbled while blinking lazily at my face. His hair and thick lashes partly covered his eyes from the bright lights.

"She's a friend of Maximiliano Falco," Berto replied in a calmer tone. "Calmati. Siamo salvi, nella tenuta."

"Where the bloody hell am I?" Enzo groaned loudly when he tried to sit up again. His bodyguard was quick to react and helped him up. "Figlio di puttana!"

My ears kinda hurt at his loud swearing, so I opted to step away and put the face mask back on. Antibiotics. Did he need a shot of sedatives, too?  "Mr. Tomassini, I'm Mykaela," I said with forced pleasantness. "Just here to help. I can give you stronger painkillers. If you have any allergies to certain medications, please let me know now."

"No; I don't."

"Rilassati, e stai fermo." Berto said some more reassuring words as he stayed beside his boss.

"Grazie." I bowed to the guards standing around the operating table. They watched me with tensed jaws and shoulders. They were just awaiting my next set of instructions from the looks of it. "They're both stable now. We should leave now so the medics can get to them faster."

"It's not safe to drive out of the estate, Signorina," replied Alessio, one of the Falco's security guys and often Miles' main bodyguard. Alessio wiped some blood off his hands. Most likely not his.  "But we already called for help."

"We have to take them to the emergency room." I frowned. "Now."

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