Bound by my blood

Chapter forty-three

Silence enveloped me, a heavy, suffocating blanket that sent chills racing through my veins, as cold as the winter air slipping through my open window. My gaze was locked on my phone, the screen flickering like a dim beacon in the dark, and I waited for any shred of news.

I had obeyed the orders to stay in Portland, but with each agonizing second that crawled by, regret twisted in my stomach. What horrors were unfolding at the docks while I sat safely at home? My family was out there, fighting for me, and here I was—paralyzed by fear and helplessness.

The airline website glared back at me, its stark white letters taunting me. Desperation clawed at my insides as I longed to book a flight home. The next departure was at 9 PM, but that felt like an eternity—eight hours too late. My mother had locked down any chance of returning, refusing to let the pilots fly me back, no matter how many tears or bribes I poured out.

Then, just as the oppressive silence threatened to crush me, my phone rang. I lunged to answer, almost missing the call as I pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" A deep, unfamiliar voice came through the line, its somber tone heavy with dread. "Is this Alexandria Lombardo? This is the New York hospital..."

My heart seemed to stop, and time hung suspended around me.

"Yes, this is Alexandria," I croaked, my voice trembling, each word fragile as if they might shatter.

A ringing in my ears drowned out everything else as I braced myself for the worst.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Lombardo. Jaxon Medley has suffered multiple injuries, and we suspect he won't survive the operation we need to perform."

A chill swept through me, paralyzing every muscle as my body went numb. The words felt like a death sentence. The doctor's voice continued, but I had already hung up, my vision blurring as I frantically searched through my contacts. My heart raced in a rhythmic panic.

When Babbo answered after a few rings, I broke into sobs, the dam I'd struggled so hard to hold back finally bursting.

"Hi, Princess. Your mamma was just about to call you. You're safe. We've eliminated all the traitors here and in Sicily," he began, but his tone shifted when he heard my distress. "What's wrong? We didn't kill Vince, if that's what you're worried about. Not many of us died."

"It's not Vince. It's Jax," I managed between sobs. "Did you know he was in the hospital?"

"No, I didn't. He showed up at the fight but slipped away quickly after," he replied with a heavy sigh. "I'm so sorry."

"Can you lend me the jet? I need to see him. The hospital doesn't think he'll survive the operation," I mumbled, tears cascading down my cheeks like a relentless storm.

"Of course. I'll tell them to prep it right now," he said without hesitation. I muttered my thanks before ending the call, determination surging through me.

Taking a deep breath, I hastily shoved clothes into a backpack, adding my laptop as an afterthought. I pulled on my boots and threw a coat over my pajamas, the fabric feeling alien against my skin. I locked the door behind me, my hand instinctively brushing the cold steel of my gun.

Nothing would stop me from reaching Jax before his surgery. Not this time.

— — —

Five hours later, the sterile smell of disinfectant assaulted my senses as I stepped into the hospital room. Jax lay on the bed, his skin waxy and pale—a chilling contrast to the vibrant life I remembered. Pain twisted his features, and I had to turn away, gripped by the horrifying sight. The doctor had forewarned me, but nothing could prepare me for the reality.

I set my bag down and perched on the edge of his bed, my heart heavy with dread. A fresh cut ran from his brow straight through to his eye, stark against the pallor of his skin. It seemed as if he sensed my gaze, and weakly, he grasped my hand, grounding me amidst the chaos.

In that moment, tears exploded from my eyes—a torrential downpour spilling forth at the warmth of his touch. My chin quivered, emotions swelling inside me like a rising tide.

"This is all my fault. You're dying, and there's nothing I can do. I'm so sorry, Jax," I sobbed, each word laced with despair.

"I-it's okay, Lexi," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I trusted my sister."

"It's not okay! I love you so much!" I cried, despair clenching my heart. He squeezed my hand back, such a feeble gesture that I could barely feel it.

"Remember me like I was before all this happened, if I die. I love you," he whispered, his fragile plea breaking me further. I nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, silently begging for a miracle.

"You won't die. You can't die," I whimpered, each word a desperate prayer as I stepped back.

The moment hung heavy in the air as he pressed the red button to summon the doctor. She entered with a small, encouraging smile that faded as she turned to Jax.

"Are you ready?" she asked softly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, taking a deep breath. I watched, heart in my throat, as she carefully maneuvered him onto a trolley and wheeled him out of the room. The sight felt like a scene from a nightmare.

I stood frozen, a statue locked in time, waiting for what felt like an eternity. Each second stretched out, tainted by an undercurrent of anxiety. Hope clashed with despair.

But when the doctor finally returned two hours later, her demeanor shattered the fragile optimism I had clung to.

I had lost my best friend, my first love...

Jaxon Medley was dead, and with him, a small piece of my shattered heart.