WAR FOR ME
1118 Words
The first gunshot cracked through the house like thunder.
I jumped. My heart slammed against my ribs.
On the monitors, I could see them. Men in black. Rocco’s crest on their jackets. Moving through the garden like shadows. Vito’s men were already firing back.
"Stay here," Vito had said.
"No matter what you hear."
But I could hear everything. Shouting. Glass breaking. More gunshots.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them to the steel table to keep still.
"Come on," I whispered. "Come on, Vito."
Another round of gunfire. Closer.
Footsteps running down the hall outside the safe room.
I held my breath.
The door code beeped. Three times. Marco’s code.
The door opened and Marco stumbled in. His shirt was torn. There was blood on his sleeve. Not his.
"Miss Moretti," he said, breathing hard. "We need to go. Now."
"Where’s Vito?" My voice was barely a whisper.
Marco’s face. God, his face.
That’s when I knew.
"He’s hit."
The world tilted.
"What?" I was already moving. "Where? How bad?"
"I don’t— We need to get you out before—"
"Take me to him." I grabbed his arm. "Marco. Take me to him right now or I’ll run out there myself."
He cursed under his breath and grabbed my hand. "Stay behind me. Gunfire’s still active."
We ran.
The house was chaos. Men moving. Shouting orders. The smell of gunpowder and blood. I saw one of Vito’s guys on the floor, eyes open, not breathing.
I had to look away.
We found him in the main hall.
Vito was on his knees. Leaning against the wall. Marco and two other men around him.
And there was blood. So much blood. Dark on his white shirt. On his hands.
"Vito."
My voice broke.
His head lifted. His eyes found me immediately. Even hurt. Even bleeding. He looked for me first.
"Lina." His voice was rough. "You were supposed to stay."
I dropped to my knees in front of him. Didn’t care about the blood on the floor. Didn’t care about anything.
"Shut up," I said. Tears were falling now. "Don’t talk. Just... don’t talk."
His hand came up and caught my face. It was warm. And wet.
"Hey." He tried to smile. It was terrible. "You’re okay. That’s all that matters."
"You’re bleeding." My hands were hovering over him, not knowing where to touch. "You’re bleeding so much."
"It’s fine." He lied so badly. "Just a scratch."
Marco crouched beside us. "Boss, we need to move. Ambulance is 4 minutes out but Rocco’s men are still in the perimeter."
Vito shook his head. "No hospital. They’ll be waiting."
"Then where?" Marco asked.
Vito looked at me. Really looked at me. "Home. Take me home."
"Vito, you need a doctor—"
"I said home." His voice was weak but it was still a command. "Lina. Look at me."
I forced myself to meet his eyes. They were getting glassy.
"You’re not allowed to die," I whispered. "You hear me? You’re not allowed."
A ghost of a smile. "Bossy."
"Someone has to be."
Marco and the other two men lifted him. Vito hissed in pain but didn’t make a sound.
They carried him to the SUV in the garage. I climbed in beside him, his head in my lap.
"Drive," Marco said. "Fast."
The ride was a blur. Gunfire behind us. Sirens somewhere far. Vito’s breathing was shallow. Too shallow.
"Stay with me," I said, brushing hair from his forehead. "Stay with me, Vito. Please."
His eyes opened. "Moretti."
"Don’t call me that."
"Lina." Better. "You’re crying."
"Shut up."
"You’re beautiful when you cry."
"Vito—"
"I don’t regret it." His hand found mine. "Any of it. Not taking you. Not keeping you. Not tonight."
Tears dropped onto his face. "Don’t talk like that."
"I have to." His thumb brushed my knuckles. "In case... In case I don’t get to say it later."
"Don’t." I was sobbing now. I didn’t care. "Don’t you dare leave me. You said I was yours. You said you don’t lose what’s yours."
"I don’t." His voice was fading. "I won’t."
The SUV screeched to a stop. Private clinic. No signs. No lights. Marco jumped out and opened my door.
They carried Vito inside. Doctors were waiting.
I was pushed to the side as they rushed him through double doors.
"Wait—" I tried to follow.
A nurse stopped me. "Family only."
"I’m—" I choked. "I’m his."
She looked at my bloody hands, my face, and nodded. "Wait here."
And then the doors closed.
I stood in the hallway. Alone. Shaking. Covered in his blood.
Marco came to me. "He’s going to be okay, Miss Moretti."
"Don’t call me that."
He paused. "Lina. He’s going to be okay."
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. My whole body was trembling.
I don’t know how long I sat there. 10 minutes. An hour. Time didn’t exist.
The doors opened.
The doctor walked out. Old. Tired.
"He lost a lot of blood," he said. "But the bullet missed anything vital. He’s stable. He’ll live."
I couldn’t breathe. Then I could.
"Can I see him?"
"Five minutes. He’s asking for you."
I stood on shaky legs and followed her in.
The room was white and sterile. Machines beeping.
And there he was. In the bed. Pale. Bandaged. But breathing.
Vito.
"Hey," he said when he saw me.
I crossed the room in two steps and took his hand. Careful of the IV.
"You scared me," I whispered.
"Me too."
We both laughed. It sounded wrong in the quiet.
"You i***t," I said. "You absolute i***t. You could have died."
"I know." His thumb moved over my hand. "But I’m not dying, Lina. Not when I just found you."
I pressed his hand to my forehead and closed my eyes.
"I thought—" I couldn’t finish.
"I know." He squeezed my hand. "I’m sorry."
"Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."
"Can’t promise that." A small smile. "I’m a Marino. We do stupid things for the people we love."
My eyes snapped open.
"Did you just—"
"Yeah." His eyes were heavy but clear. "I love you, Lina Moretti. Enemy name and all."
The tears came again. But different this time.
"I love you too," I whispered. "Stupid Marino."
"Good." He sighed, eyes closing. "Now stay. Please."
I climbed onto the bed carefully and laid my head on his chest, away from the bandages. His arm came around me.
Outside, the war was still going.
Inside, it was just us.
And for the first time in 18 years, I wasn’t running.
I was home.
- Writer
