I stare at Vito's form. He's paler than usual, strands of his hair falling from his short ponytail. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin. His charcoal suit jacket has an even darker spot at his chest, and I hesitantly move forward, pushing it out of the way. I suck in a deep breath when his white shirt comes into view. Or at least, what used to be a white shirt, because now it's stained with dark, red blood.
My eyes shoot back to his face, finding his eyes closed.
Is he even alive?
A pathetic whimper leaves my throat before I can stop it.
"You really are soft..." The slurred words aren't what I'm used to but I still recognize the voice. I shoot up straight.
Vito's eyes are open, the lids low and there's a pained smile on his face as he looks at me. "You're crying..." he coughs, his whole body wracking before he gets it under control. "When you should be happy... that I'm dying."
"I'm not crying," I tell him, wiping at my eyes and confirming they're dry. I shake my head. "You're my last level of protection," I remind him.
I’m completely concerned about him because of selfish reasons, and I need for us both to remember that.
Gunshots ring out in the distance and I jump.
Vito shakes his head weakly before reaching up to his chest and placing a hand against the wound. He doesn't flinch even as his fingers pull away, covered in blood. His eyes flutter closed before reopening slowly. His gaze centers on me, his head leaning back against the seat.
"Put... something on it," he says before his eyes drop back closed.
This time they don’t reopen.
My eyes widen but I come to my senses, yanking my jacket off. I press it against his chest as hard as I can before placing my fingers on his neck, confirming that he still has a pulse.
It feels like forever before Enzo reappears. He climbs into the driver’s seat, putting the car in drive and slamming his foot on the gas. "How is he?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I don't know."
The drive to the compound is met with more silence and when Enzo parks in front of the door, it swings open. Giovanni is standing in the doorway and I can see the fire in his eyes, even at a distance.
Enzo doesn't bother turning the car off, instead opening the back door and taking Vito out from under my hands. He jogs up to the house so quickly like he isn’t carrying a human being. I don't even have time to remind him to keep something pressed against the wound.
I rush out of the car, following him when my feet decide they can still work. He's already talking with Giovanni in quick whispers as they make their way through the compound.
Giovanni pushes open a door I’m unfamiliar with and inside is the doctor who treated me, along with another man. They’re both wearing scrubs and gloves. There's a steel table between them and a small, rolling table with medical equipment.
I blink at that.
"On the table," the doctor tells Enzo, gesturing with her hand.
He places Vito on the table and the male cuts his shirt and suit jacket open with a tiny pair of scissors, tossing the shredded pieces to the ground.
Together they heft him up and the female doctor lets out a sigh of relief. "It's a through and through," she says. "We won't have to dig around for the bullet."
"But how is he going to be?" Giovanni asks and for a moment, I think I see actual concern on his face, but then his mask falls back into place.
The doctor's lips press together and she looks at Giovanni before looking back down at Vito.
"If he dies, then so will you," Giovanni says before the doctor can respond.
The doctor tenses before blowing out a breath. She gives a quick nod. "Yes sir, we'll do our best."
Giovanni's face pinches and it looks as if he's going to say something else but there's a loud slam from another part of the compound and his shoulders tighten. He turns on his heels, heading in that direction. Enzo follows him without pause.
I look at Vito, but I've never had the best stomach, even after all the blood and guts I’ve seen recently. And despite myself, I don't like seeing Vito on the table, near death. So I follow Giovanni and Enzo.
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" comes before I turn the corner, but I turn in time to catch sight of Giovanni's fist whipping through the air as he hits his brother in the face.