The King's Executioner | Mafia Dark Romance | Book 2

18. Survival of the fittest

Sofia

Tick tock tick tock

The voices in my surroundings amplified.

I sat outside the operation theater - hoping, praying.

Alejandro's gunshots were severe. One grazed his side while the other was embedded in his abdomen. The heavy blood loss didn't come to our notice till Al fell unconscious.

I was told that a famous surgeon was called in. He was the best for complicated surgeries.

"Mrs. Moralez." The voice made me look up from my rosary. I stood up, pulling my hands behind. "The surgery will start now." The doctor, a man seemingly in his late forties with more grey hair than black stood in front of me. "There are certain formalities that are needed. So if you could sign them."

"It's already done, doctor," I turned around to see Maria and Carlos standing with papers in their hands. "Please begin the procedure. I have signed off on all."

Hearing this, Carlos took the doctor to a corner.

Maria pulled me over her chest, patting my back. "You did well, Mija."

I nuzzled my way into her shoulder, unwilling to admit of being the failure.

I failed to protect my husband.

I was supposed to be the backup.

When I saw blood trails on the prison floor upon entry, I believed my gut and followed it. With the delayed transmission, we weren't able to communicate with Al and Agustin. I wasn't able to relay on time the information about Antonio being trapped by the Sinaloan Cartel men.

If only we could have reached there on time.

If only we could have spared a minute more to escape.

Maria left me at the entrance of the operation theater, taking turns to talk to the family.

After giving everyone fake hope - telling them Al was doing fine, I fell on a plastic chair.

The decisions I made since the coup kept running in my mind. Coursing its way up to blame me.

Alejandro's face appeared and disappeared from my vision. I had heard that when you saw a person you love in pain, suffering, the body would automatically play their happy memories to keep you going.

In my case, those memories were of our childhood.

I vividly remember, playing with Agustin at the beach, when Alejandro would come and crash his toddler truck on our sandcastles. He had that devilish grin back then too, one let out upon accomplishing a task he planned for long. Although I would cry and run away, I always knew he would chase me around to for an apology.

Alejandro always apologized as a child. I loved him since our first talk and even today, after everything.

The strange thing about love was the way it got etched on the walls of the heart, never to let go. Loving Alejandro was that infestation, that moss which crept in the bleeding corners of the heart and settled there.

With every passing moment, I walked around, checking the time and the bright, red illuminated words - Operation Theater.

While inside the closed doors, the doctors were trying to perform a miracle, I was here, making a deal with my miracle worker.

"Please save him, God. I have hardly asked you for anything for myself. Please, please, this time, I am asking for his life to be spared. Please let Alejandro survive."