The Change|| BxB

33. The Weight Of Betrayal

Valentino's tears blurred his vision as he sped through the streets towards the hospital. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and guilt. "Why didn't they warn me it was Kyle?" he sobbed, his voice choked with emotion. At a red light, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing through the car. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his hand, but it was nothing compared to the agony he felt inside.

Passersby stared with wide eyes, unsure whether to be alarmed or to look away. They saw only a man in a luxury car, distraught and pounding the wheel. What they didn't see was the urgency behind Valentino's distress—the figure lying in the back seat, barely clinging to life.

When Valentino finally reached the hospital, he threw the car into park and jumped out, rushing to the back of the vehicle. He struggled to lift Kyle, his hands trembling uncontrollably. A few nurses noticed the commotion and ran towards him, their faces etched with concern. "We're here to help, sir," one of them said as she and her colleagues quickly took Kyle from Valentino's arms and onto a stretcher.

As they wheeled Kyle through the emergency doors, Valentino was left standing in the cold, sterile lobby. The bright lights and white walls seemed almost blinding, contrasting sharply with the chaos in his mind. He sank into a chair, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Please," he whispered through his tears, "please save him."

Minutes felt like hours as he waited in the stark, uncomfortable waiting room. Valentino's mind raced with memories of Kyle—laughing together, sharing secrets, the times they'd been there for each other. Each memory was a painful reminder of what he stood to lose.

He glanced at his phone, scrolling through the texts and photos of Kyle, searching for something—anything—to hold onto. Every picture, every message was a reminder of how close they were and how much he had taken their friendship for granted. He couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that he was somehow to blame for this nightmare.

"Valentino?" A nurse's voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up, hoping for good news. The nurse's face was solemn. "The doctors are doing everything they can. They've stabilized him for now, but it's touch and go."

Valentino's breath hitched. "Is he going to make it?"

The nurse hesitated, her eyes sympathetic but wary. "We can't say for sure yet. It's best if you wait here while we continue to monitor him."

Despair flooded over Valentino as he sat back down. His head fell into his hands, his sobs more violent now. The guilt gnawed at him—why hadn't he been more vigilant? Why hadn't he seen the signs of betrayal before it was too late?

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor finally approached Valentino. His face was lined with fatigue, but his expression was kind. "Mr. Rose?"

Valentino stood, his legs shaky. "How is he?"

The doctor sighed deeply. "Kyle's injuries were severe. We managed to stabilize him, but he's still in critical condition. We need to monitor him closely for the next 24 hours. I understand this is difficult, but I need you to be prepared for any outcome."

Valentino's heart sank. "I understand," he said, though his voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

As the doctor walked away, Valentino felt a mix of relief and dread. He knew that whatever happened next was beyond his control. All he could do was wait and hope—hope that Kyle would pull through and that his own actions had not irrevocably damaged their bond.

Hours passed with Valentino in a haze of anxiety and sorrow. He found himself pacing the empty waiting room, wracked with guilt and fear. The burden of disloyalty weighed heavily on him. Every decision he'd made, every choice, seemed to culminate in this agonizing moment.

He thought about Kyle's loyalty, his friendship, and how he'd failed to protect him from harm. Valentino realized that his life as part of the Mafia had brought him to this point, a point where even the closest relationships were not immune to the costs of his choices. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, one that left him questioning everything he thought he knew about loyalty and responsibility.

The night dragged on, and Valentino's hope began to wane. He felt utterly alone in his vigil, the sterile environment of the hospital amplifying his sense of isolation. "Please," he whispered again, this time to the empty room, "let him pull through. Let me make things right."

As dawn approached, Valentino remained steadfast in his vigil, determined to be there for his friend, no matter what the cost.

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