~NICO~
Three days away from the club felt like three weeks.
The place was alive the moment Enzo and I walked back in tonight. Normally that sound meant business was good. Tonight it only reminded me how much had happened in seventy-two hours.
Raffaele had nearly died twice.
The first time was when they wheeled him into surgery after the bullet tore across his shoulder. At the time we—including him—thought it was nothing more than a graze. Painful, yes, but survivable. Men in our world had walked away from worse.
Then his heart stopped.
Cardiac arrest. Out of nowhere.
They shocked him back.
Twenty minutes later it happened again.
That was when the doctors started looking deeper, and one of them came out of the operating room pale enough that I knew before he opened his mouth that s
