What We Left in the Dark

Forty Two

The afternoon crept slowly into evening, leaving me in a strange limbo as I sat on Luca's couch, my eyes focused on the shifting colors of the sky as the day gave way to night. Manhattan's skyline was illuminated in the distance, but the sight did nothing to calm the chaos swirling in my head. I had tried to work, but every time I picked up my laptop, the weight of my situation pulled me away, deeper into my thoughts.

How had my life spiraled into such a mess? Between the brothers, the constant danger, the hidden violence, and my own divided emotions, everything felt tangled beyond recognition. I felt torn, between my past with Gian and the new, growing bond I had with Luca. But no matter how much I tried to rationalize my feelings, the situation felt impossible.

Just as I began to lose myself in my thoughts, a sound shattered the stillness—the front door creaking open.

I whipped my head around, heart racing, and was met with a sight that sent me into immediate panic. Luca stood in the doorway, his face tight with worry as he struggled to carry the weight of someone slung over his shoulder—Gian.

Gian's body was limp, his shirt soaked in blood. It took me a second to register the sight, and when I did, a scream ripped through me. "Oh my God! Gian!"

Luca rushed inside, barely keeping Gian upright, his voice sharp but calm. "Cat! I need you to focus. Go grab the first aid kit from the bathroom—now!"

I froze for a split second, paralyzed by the sight of Gian's bloodied form. But then the adrenaline kicked in, shaking me from my trance. I bolted from the couch, racing to the bathroom, hands trembling as I grabbed the kit. When I returned, Luca had laid Gian out on the dining room table, already working to strip off his shirt and inspect the wound.

"Cat," Luca barked, snapping me to attention. "You're going to have to help me. I need you to clean and remove the bullet, and I'll hold him down."

"What? No—I can't!" My voice wavered as my eyes darted between the blood seeping from Gian's stomach and Luca's tense face.

"You have to," Luca said firmly, his grip tightening on Gian's shoulder as he started to stir in pain. "It'll hurt him too much if I try. And you're not strong enough to hold him down. I'll keep him still—you take care of the rest."

My heart pounded in my chest, but I nodded, my mind shifting into survival mode. I couldn't afford to break down now. With shaky hands, I opened the first aid kit, pulling out long tweezers. My breath hitched as I leaned over Gian, inspecting the wound. The bullet's end was mercifully visible—lodged just beneath his skin. It wasn't too deep, but the sight still made my stomach lurch.

Luca's eyes met mine. "On three. Ready?"

I inhaled sharply, nodding. "Ready."

"One... two... three!"

With a quick, determined motion, I gripped the bullet with the tweezers and yanked it out. Gian screamed in agony, thrashing violently against the table. Luca immediately pinned his shoulders down, using all of his strength to keep his brother from lashing out in pain.

I worked as quickly as I could, grabbing the gauze and dousing it with rubbing alcohol. "This is going to sting," I muttered to no one in particular as I pressed the gauze against Gian's wound. He hissed, his muscles tensing, but he didn't fight as hard this time. Luca kept him restrained while I cleaned the wound, my movements fast but careful.

Once the area was clean, I worked to bandage the wound, my hands moving almost automatically now, my mind focused only on finishing the task.

When I was done, I grabbed two pain pills from the kit, moving closer to Gian. "Here, take these," I said, gently pressing them to his lips. Gian, his face pale and eyes half-lidded, opened his mouth and swallowed the pills. I rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and returning to his side.

Luca had released his hold on Gian now, helping him sit up as carefully as he could. As I handed Gian the water, Luca wrapped a protective arm around my waist, pulling me close into his side. The warmth of his body against mine should have been comforting, but the tension in the room was suffocating. Luca's lips brushed my forehead, and he whispered praises softly into my ear. "You did so well, Cat. You saved him. I'm so proud of you."

My heart raced, torn between the intensity of Luca's closeness and the sight of Gian, still bleeding and weakened before me. I felt Luca's arm tighten around my waist, his touch grounding me in this chaotic moment.

But when I glanced at Gian, his tired, glazed eyes weren't focused on the pain or the wound. His gaze was locked on where Luca's hand rested on my waist, his expression unreadable. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as if he were trying to push down the bitterness he couldn't voice.

The silence was heavy—too heavy. Gian's mouth opened slightly, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His eyes flickered between Luca and me, his frustration and exhaustion palpable.

I felt the air between us thicken, and suddenly, the reality of our tangled relationships pressed down on me with unbearable weight. Here I was, caught between the two brothers in a way I hadn't imagined—physically, emotionally, and now, in this strange moment, something more primal.

Gian let out a breath and closed his eyes, sinking back onto the table with the last ounce of strength he had. I reached out, my hand trembling as I placed it lightly on his arm. "Gian, rest. You're safe now."

Luca's arm slipped away from my waist, his posture stiffening. "I'll help him to the couch," he muttered, his tone more clipped than it had been before.

I moved aside as Luca helped Gian off the table and over to the living room. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken battle simmering beneath the surface. As Gian settled onto the couch, his body too weak to protest, Luca turned back to me, his expression tight with something I couldn't quite place.

"I'll be in my office if you need me," Luca said, his voice controlled. He walked past me without another glance, leaving me alone with a wounded Gian.