Chapter 9 - The Recovery
For thirty-six hours, the intensive care unit on the tenth floor of Chicago Memorial Hospital was guarded by twenty armed Moretti security guards.
Outside in the private waiting room, Claire sat in a quiet corner, refusing to leave, refusing to sleep, wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt Marcus had brought her.
Her hands were clean, but she could still feel the phantom heat of his blood on her skin.
At 8:00 A.M. on the second morning, Dr. Harris walked out through the double doors of the ICU, pulling off his surgical mask.
Claire jumped to her feet instantly, her heart slamming against her ribs. "How is he?"
The doctor smiled warmly, looking at her tired face. "The bullet missed his heart by less than two inches, Miss Dawson. It fractured a rib and caused localized internal bleeding, but the surgery was a complete success. He just woke up."
Claire felt her knees give out in sheer relief. She caught herself on the edge of the chair, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
"Can I see him?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Five minutes," the doctor nodded. "He’s weak, but the first word he spoke when he opened his eyes was your name."
Claire pushed open the door to the private room.
The room was quiet, bathed in the soft morning sunlight. Luca lay in the high-tech hospital bed, an IV line hooked to his arm, a white bandage visible beneath his open gown. His face was pale, but his dark eyes were open, clear, and filled with an incredible warmth the moment she walked through the door.
Claire walked over to the side of the bed, her eyes brimming with tears.
"You're an idiot," she whispered, her voice cracking. "A brave, noble, complete idiot."
Luca let out a weak, raspy laugh, reaching out his uninjured arm to take her hand. "Good morning to you too, Claire."
She squeezed his fingers tightly, leaning down to lay her forehead softly against his arm. "You almost died for me."
"I would do it ten times over," Luca said, his voice deep, raspy, and full of absolute conviction. "When I saw that gun pointed at you, Claire... my life didn't matter. Only yours did."
Claire raised her head, looking deep into his dark eyes. The walls she had built around her heart over years of hardship, poverty, and fear crumbled completely.
"I love you, Luca," she confessed softly, her tears falling onto his hand. "I think I fell in love with you the moment you looked at my crushed hand and chose to believe me over the world."
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Luca pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles tenderly.
"I loved you the moment you swallowed that memory card, Claire," Luca smiled softly. "You brought light into a house that had been dark for way too long."
