HER LIFE

WILL SHE BE OK??

THIRD PERSON POV

The air was thick with chaos, and time seemed to slow down as Valentina fell to the ground, her body crumpling like a fragile doll. The gunshot rang in everyone's ears, echoing in their minds as if the world had stopped for a brief, horrifying second. Blood began to pool beneath her, a stark crimson spreading across the floor. Elijah's eyes widened with terror as he watched her pale face contort in pain.

"No!" Elijah screamed, his voice raw with anguish, shattering the stunned silence. He didn't think—he couldn't think. His instincts kicked in, adrenaline surging through his veins as he rushed to her side. Marcella, equally shaken, was right behind him, her heart pounding in her chest. They couldn't lose her. Not again. Not like this.

Gunfire erupted around them as the rest of their family sprang into action, drawing their weapons and returning fire. Bullets flew through the air, ricocheting off walls and smashing through glass. But none of it mattered to Elijah or Marcella. Valentina lay between them, bleeding out, her breaths shallow and ragged.

Elijah's hands trembled as he pressed down on her wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. His heart hammered against his ribs, his mind a flurry of terror. He was losing her, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Stay with me, Val!" Elijah begged, his voice cracking as tears burned in his eyes. "Please, don't leave us."

But Val's eyelids were fluttering, her face growing impossibly pale. Marcella knelt beside her, panic flooding her veins. She grabbed Elijah's arm, her voice trembling. "We have to get her out of here. Elijah, we need to move—now."

Elijah didn't hesitate. He scooped Valentina into his arms, her body limp and alarmingly cold. The chaos of the ongoing shootout seemed distant as his focus narrowed to just one thing: saving her. Marcella was already moving, leading the way to the car parked out front.

The night sky was cold, and the streets blurred as they sped toward the mafia hospital, Marcella's hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled force. Elijah held Valentina tightly, her head resting against his chest as he whispered desperate prayers into the darkness.

"Please, Val, hold on," he murmured over and over, his voice breaking. "Don't leave us. Not again."

The moment they arrived at the hospital, Elijah didn't wait for anyone. He kicked the car door open and rushed inside, Valentina cradled in his arms, her body lifeless yet still clinging to a fragile thread of life. The sterile hospital lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across his tear-streaked face. As this was a mafia-owned hospital, the staff immediately snapped to attention, recognizing the gravity of the situation.

"Help her!" Elijah's voice was hoarse as he pleaded with the staff, desperation dripping from his every word. 

The doctors rushed forward, wheeling a stretcher toward them. Gently but swiftly, they took Valentina from Elijah's trembling arms and laid her down, rushing her toward the ICU. Elijah stood frozen, watching her disappear through the swinging doors. His heart sank, the gaping emptiness threatening to swallow him whole.

"Doctor, please, you have to save her," he cried, turning toward the nearest physician, his voice barely a whisper now. "I just got her back. I can't lose her again."

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Elijah's shoulder, though his expression remained grave. "We will do everything we can, Mr. De Luca. Please don't lose hope. All we can do now is pray."

Elijah nodded, but the weight of his emotions was too much to bear. He sank into one of the nearby chairs, his face buried in his hands. Memories of the last time Valentina had disappeared flooded his mind, the grief, the helplessness—all of it resurfacing with brutal clarity.