Chapter 8 - The Bullet Meant for MeRaphael hit the floor with Sofia in his arms.
I fell beside him.
For one second, I felt nothing.
Then I saw blood.
It spread across the shoulder of Raphael’s coat.
“No.”
I reached for him.
“It passed through,” he said through clenched teeth.
The bullet had entered high in his left shoulder and exited near his back. Blood came quickly, but the wound had missed the central vessels.
Sofia crouched beside him, trembling.
“You’re my father?”
Raphael looked at her.
“Yes.”
She touched his cheek as though verifying he was real.
A second laser crossed the wall.
I grabbed Sofia and pulled her behind the hospital bed.
“Down!”
Another shot shattered the remaining glass.
Damian’s voice exploded through the radio.
“Shooter in the west building. Move now.”
Raphael pushed himself upright.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’ve been shot before.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It was not intended to be.”
Despite the pain, he placed himself between Sofia and the window.
We moved into the corridor.
Daniel was conscious but fading. Damian and Sabine arrived with two armed men.
Sabine saw Sofia and stopped.
“Oh, God.”
Sofia stared at her.
Sabine lowered her weapon.
“I’m your aunt.”
Sofia’s face remained guarded.
“I know. My mother kept your photograph.”
Sabine’s hand covered her mouth.
There was no time for reunion.
Damian lifted Daniel while I pressed fabric against Raphael’s wound. We descended through the stairwell as bullets struck the exterior walls.
At the lower level, Freddy waited with Micah.
The moment Raphael saw him, his steps slowed.
Micah sat in a wheelchair, oxygen tube beneath his nose. His face was pale, but his eyes were alert.
Father and son looked at each other across the ruined corridor.
Neither spoke.
Raphael seemed unable to.
Micah broke the silence.
“You look worse than I do.”
Raphael laughed once.
The sound was rough and astonished.
“I have been told that tonight.”
Micah’s gaze dropped to the blood.
“Are you dying?”
“No.”
“Elena says that when she’s worried.”
Raphael looked at me.
“Then no. I am not dying.”
The emergency exit opened.
We crossed into the gray dawn.
Vehicles waited beyond the fence. Damian’s men formed a protective line while the shooter’s position came under return fire.
I expected Raphael to enter the armored sedan.
Instead, he lifted Micah from the wheelchair with his uninjured arm.
Micah stiffened.
“I can move myself.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you carrying me?”
Raphael’s voice lowered.
“Because I have missed twelve years.”
Micah looked away, but he did not resist.
We reached a private medical clinic controlled by the Orsini family forty minutes later.
Raphael required surgery.
Sofia required blood tests and neurological scans.
Micah required immediate stabilization after the oxygen interruption.
For the first time in my life, I stood in a hospital corridor with three people behind separate doors and no idea which one needed me most.
Sabine sat beside me.
“You saved them.”
“We all did.”
“You entered a wired room with a sniper watching.”
“So did Raphael.”
“He is an Orsini. Recklessness is hereditary.”
I almost smiled.
Then she touched my arm.
“He knocked on your door.”
The statement was not a question.
I looked at her.
“He did.”
“Raphael has not asked anyone for help since Cecilia died.”
“He was drunk.”
“He does not drink.”
“I noticed.”
Sabine leaned back.
“For one hundred seven nights, he received photographs. Each one showed a different place from Cecilia’s final week alive. The nursery. The hospital. The road where she crashed. He stopped sleeping.”
“Why didn’t he tell you?”
“Because he believed anyone he loved would become a target.”
“That did not protect you.”
“No. It only made him lonely.”
A surgeon entered the corridor.
“Mr. Orsini is stable.”
Relief weakened my knees.
“Sofia?” Sabine asked.
“The girl has significant medication dependency, but we can taper it safely. She has old fractures and evidence of prolonged confinement.”
Sabine’s face hardened.
“And Micah?”
“His oxygen levels have improved. However, his records show that his current condition may have been intentionally induced.”
I stared at the doctor.
“What does that mean?”
“The V-17 compound damaged his immune response over time. He may not have been born with a fatal disorder. Someone made him sick.”
Vittorio had not merely tried to kill Micah.
He had spent twelve years ensuring the boy remained weak enough to control.
Daniel regained consciousness that afternoon.
I entered his room alone.
My father looked smaller than the man who had taken Micah from the hospital.
“You should hate me,” he said.
“I do not know you well enough anymore.”
He accepted that.
“Why did you let us believe you were dead?”
“Vittorio found me after the fire. He offered a choice. Work for him, or he would kill Laura, you, and Micah.”
“So you worked for him.”
“I sabotaged him where I could. I moved Sofia between facilities. I sent Raphael the photographs.”
“One hundred seven nights.”
“Yes.”
“Why not tell him directly?”
“Because someone inside his house reported every private message to Vittorio.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked toward the closed door.
“The person Raphael trusts most.”
Damian.
I wanted to reject it.
Then I remembered Damian finding Raphael’s vehicle, controlling the council meeting, arriving at Lakeview at exactly the right moment.
“Do you have proof?”
“In my coat.”
I found a small flash drive sewn inside the lining.
“Everything is there,” Daniel said. “Payments, recordings, medical files.”
I closed my hand around it.
The door opened.
Damian stood outside.
His expression was calm.
His pistol was not.
“Give me the drive, Elena.”
Behind him, two guards lay unconscious.
I looked at my father.
Daniel whispered, “Run.”
Damian entered the room and locked the door.
“I do not want to hurt you,” he said.
“Then lower the gun.”
“I can’t.”
“Because Vittorio pays you?”
His eyes changed.
“Vittorio does not own me.”
“Then who does?”
Damian raised the weapon.
“The woman Raphael buried three years ago.”
From the corridor came the sound of a woman’s heels.
Slow.
Measured.
Familiar to everyone who had lived in the Orsini mansion.
The door opened again.
A beautiful woman stepped into the room wearing a white coat.
I knew her face from the portrait in the west gallery.
May you like
Cecilia Orsini smiled at me.
“Thank you for finding my children.”
Related Stories
