ECHOES OF US | 18+ ✔️

CHAPTER 35

DANTÉ

It's my second week in our new home—a stark contrast to the luxury of our old penthouse. This house is different, not just in style but in purpose. Every corner whispers safety, from the state-of-the-art alarm system to the team of security personnel stationed around the clock, ensuring we're protected both at home and wherever we need to go.

With my physical limitations, adjusting to this new chapter of my life isn't easy. Slowly, I'm learning to adapt, to move at a slower pace. What keeps me grounded is Mia—her unwavering presence and quiet strength, even in her condition. She's my anchor in the storm, the steady hand pulling me through the waves of frustration.

Physically, I've made progress. My breaths come easier now, less strained. I can walk without assistance, manage small tasks on my own, and endure the pain without constantly relying on medication.

But the memories of that night cling to me like a shadow, vivid and haunting. Nightmares bring it back in stark detail—the fragility of life, the scars that now mar my body, and the realization of how close I came to not making it.

Still, I wear those scars as marks of survival, symbols of a fight I'm not done with yet. The battle with Sal isn't over. But for now, my focus has to shift entirely to Mia. She's been pushing herself too hard, and it's wearing on her. Her exhaustion is constant, her appetite nearly gone, and the relentless Braxton Hicks contractions have left her pale and drained.

Watching her struggle hurts more than any of my own pain, and it's a harsh reminder that I need to be strong—for her, for us, for our child.

But then, in the dead of night, her panicked voice rouses me. "Danté... Danté... I need to get to the hospital."

An icy grip of panic seizes me as I sit upright, my heart thundering in my chest. My eyes land on the crimson staining the sheets, and it feels like the air is sucked right out of my lungs. The sight freezes me for a moment, a wave of terror crashing over me, but I force myself to move. Calling for an ambulance will take too long—we don't have the luxury of time.

"Alright, amore mio," I say, my voice shaking as I swing my legs off the bed. "We'll get there. Just breathe for me." But as I glance back at her pale face and trembling hands, my own breath falters.

Trying my best to stay calm, I spring into action, shoving aside the suffocating fear clawing at my throat. My hands tremble as I help her clean up, moving as quickly as I can. I gently pull a fresh gown over her, murmuring words of reassurance that feel hollow against the pounding of my pulse.

The moment we step out of the bedroom, Mike and Aaron are already alert, their expressions shifting to alarm as they take in the panic written all over my face.

"We need to get Mia to the hospital now," I say, the urgency breaking through my voice. "An ambulance will take too long."

Mike doesn't even ask questions. "I'll get the car ready," he says, his tone clipped, before bolting for the door.

Aaron moves toward Mia without hesitation, and before I can protest, he scoops her into his arms with careful precision. She lets out a faint, pained sound as he lifts her, and my stomach churns. Normally, the sight of another man touching her would ignite something primal in me, but right now, jealousy has no place. There's only desperation, only the suffocating need to get her to safety.

I follow close behind, my mind a chaotic blur of fear and prayers. Gripping the doorframe for a split second, dizziness washes over me, my healing injuries threatening to slow me down. But there's no time to focus on that. "Easy," I manage to say, though my voice is barely steady, as Aaron carries her toward the car.