Chapter 5 - The Edge of Life
The medical clinic inside the subterranean basement of the estate looked like a top-tier emergency room.
For forty-five minutes, the room was a chaotic blur of bright fluorescent lights, frantic commands, and the smell of antiseptic mixed with metallic blood.
Dr. Rossi—the family's private surgeon—and I worked side-by-side over Nero’s prone body on the stainless-steel operating table.
While Dr. Rossi administered high doses of atropine through an IV line into Nero’s front leg, I performed chest compressions and inserted an endotracheal tube into his airway, manually pumping oxygen into his failing lungs with a rubber resuscitation bag.
One, two, three, squeeze. One, two, three, squeeze.
"His heart rate is dropping! Forty beats per minute!" Dr. Rossi yelled, checking the cardiac monitor. "We're losing him!"
"Give him another two milligrams of epinephrine!" I commanded, my hands soaked in sweat, my muscles screaming with exhaustion as I continued pumping the air bag. "Come on, Nero! Don't you dare give up on me! Fight! BREATHE!"
Outside the glass viewing window, Matteo stood like a statue of stone.
He had refused to leave. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his knuckles white, his dark eyes fixed on Nero’s chest. Beside him, Dante and Bella sat perfectly still, staring through the glass at their dying brother, emitting low, heartbreaking whines.
"Chiara..." Dr. Rossi said quietly, looking at the flatlining cardiac monitor. "His brain has been without sufficient oxygen for three minutes. The toxin is too strong. It's over."
"NO!" I screamed, tearing off my surgical gloves.
I pulled a long, heavy spinal needle filled with pure epinephrine from the medical tray. Without hesitation, I drove the needle directly between Nero’s ribs, plunging the drug straight into his heart muscle.
Then, I slammed both of my hands onto his ribcage, pushing down with every ounce of strength remaining in my body.
"LIVE!" I roared.
BEEP.
The monitor flickered.
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP.
A sharp, violent breath gasped through the plastic tube in Nero’s throat. His chest rose dramatically, and his tail gave one tiny, weak twitch against the steel table.
"Heart rate stabilizing," Dr. Rossi gasped, staring at the monitor in pure disbelief. "Eighty beats per minute... ninety... he's coming back. My God... he's back."
I collapsed against the side of the operating table, my knees giving out, my head resting against Nero’s warm, fur-covered shoulder, sobbing tears of absolute relief.
The heavy glass door slid open.
Matteo walked into the room. He ignored the doctor, ignored the equipment, and walked straight to where I was kneeling on the floor.
Without saying a single word, he reached down, gathered me up into his massive, strong arms, and lifted me off the floor.
He pulled me tight against his chest, burying his face into the side of my neck. I could feel the intense, rapid pounding of his heart, the fierce, possessive warmth of his body wrapping around me like a shield against the dark world outside.
"Thank you," Matteo whispered into my skin, his voice trembling with a raw, profound emotion that shattered every wall he had built around his heart. "Thank you, Chiara."
I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder, realizing in that quiet, blood-stained room that I had stopped running.
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I was no longer a victim hiding in the shadows.
I was standing beside the most dangerous man in Naples, and together, we were going to tear down everyone who tried to hurt our family.
