𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧.
ꙬꙬꙬꙬ
All that Yara Morello was told all her life was that she was the shame of the family. She was a mistake that was never supposed to happen, a disgrace to be shunned and cast...
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People assume nurses get used to blood and carnage, like we're built for it. But watching it unfold, feeling it in real-time—that's another story.
Ten minutes since the blast, and my hands are still shaking. The echo of the explosion rattles in my ears. The ambulance pulled up five minutes ago, but the scene outside is chaos—wounded men groaning, the horrified screams of witnesses blending with the crackle of burning metal from seven cars up in flames.
Emilio dragged me back inside, away from the wreckage and ordered me to keep my ass inside. Right now, all I want is to bury myself under a blanket, drown in ice cream, and forget this night ever happened.
Marrying into the mafia wasn't enough. Now someone had the nerve to try and kill Emilio—and almost took me with him. My gut twists, screaming that my family's involved. It made sense because Emilio did something to Papa after he learned that he hit me. This screamed Federico Morello.
Selling me wasn't enough to satisfy their thirst for power. Emilio isn't bending, and now they're moving to the next step: take him out. Everything made me sick to my stomach.
"You look like you're about to puke. Are you okay?" Jolina's voice pulls me back, her eyes scanning my face.
"Yeah, I'm fine." The lie slips out with a practiced smile, even if it feels brittle.
She lowers herself beside me, fidgeting with her hands. I can sense she has something to say, but I don't push.
"You and Emilio... you'll need to go away for a while," she says softly.
"Right, the honeymoon," I reply, the sarcasm sharper than I intended.
She hesitates. "No, that's canceled. It's too risky. This very serious."
Of course this was serious. Blood and blown-up body parts just rained down like confetti.
Outside, I could hear Emilio barking orders in rapid-fire Italian, more armed men gathering at the door like some sick parade.
"So, what's the plan? Are we going into hiding or what?" I mutter, glaring at the bloodstains on the shredded edge of my dress.
"Something like that. Until Emilio pulls a miracle clue out of thin air, we're grounded," she groans, looking like she's being sentenced to life. "And I had plans, you know? Sun, sand, Bora Bora, endless mimosas. But no, they just had to blow everything to pieces."
"I had plans too," I sigh. "Plans that didn't involve being married off like some sacrificial lamb or nearly blown to bits on my wedding day. Guess we can't always get what we want, can we?"
Jolina's face shifts, a flash of guilt crossing her features, and suddenly, I regret unloading on her. The chaos outside has quieted; the wails of the ambulance sirens are fading into the distance, taking with them the wounded... and the dead.
