The hospital room was silent, with only the rhythmic beeping of the devices tracking Roberto’s health. Kylie remained by his bedside, her fingers intertwined firmly as if her hold could prevent everything from crumbling. She had been waiting for him to emerge from surgery for the past six hours, and now, as he lay unconscious, her thoughts were racing.
The physicians remarked that he was fortunate. The bullet was just an inch away from his heart, yet the harm to his chest remained significant. He would make it through, but the path forward wouldn’t be simple. That ought to have offered some comfort, yet Kylie couldn’t dispel the burdensome sensation pressing on her.
Her mind wandered back to the man in the vehicle John Finch. The manner in which he discussed Roberto, the suggestion of
