Chapter 10 - FALL OF THE MARCANOS (THE AFTERMATH)
The doors of the Vanguard facility burst open with a violently loud crash. I had been sitting beside Baby Boy Miller’s incubator for what felt like days, though the clock on the wall told me it had only been two hours since Sebastian left.
I jumped out of my chair as Dante and two other men rushed into the medical bay, pushing a gurney. Lying on it was Sebastian. He was completely covered in blood, his clothes shredded, his face deathly pale.
"Dr. Evans! We need a surgeon now!" Dante roared, his voice cracking with panic.
My heart completely stopped. The world around me tunneled until the only thing in focus was Sebastian’s motionless body. I ran to the gurney, my nursing instincts fighting through the overwhelming surge of sheer, paralyzing terror. I grabbed his wrist. His pulse was thready, incredibly weak, racing at 140 beats per minute. He was in hypovolemic shock.
"What happened?" I demanded, pressing a thick wad of gauze against a bleeding graze on his neck while the Vanguard nurses swarmed the gurney.
"The parlay went south," Dante gasped, his own face bruised and covered in soot. "Viktor Volkov fired on us. Boss killed him, and Alexei. The syndicate is broken. But the boss... he took a lot of hits. His stitches tore open."
Dr. Evans sprinted into the bay, shining a penlight into Sebastian’s unresponsive eyes. "Pupils are sluggish. He’s bled out too much. Get him to OR one immediately! Prepare a massive transfusion protocol!"
"Sebastian," I cried, holding his hand as they began to wheel him away. "Sebastian, can you hear me? You promised! You promised you'd come back to us!"
His eyelids fluttered weakly. Through the haze of pain and blood loss, his dark eyes found mine. He squeezed my fingers with the last ounce of strength he possessed. "I... kept... my promise," he rasped, barely audible over the chaos of the medical team. "He's... safe."
Then his grip went slack, and his eyes rolled back.
"He’s crashing!" Dr. Evans yelled. "Move!"
They ripped him away from me, rushing the gurney through the double doors of the operating room. I tried to follow, but Dante gently grabbed my arm, holding me back.
"You can't go in there, Clara," Dante said softly, pulling me into a massive, comforting hug as I finally broke down, sobbing into his ruined suit. "He needs the surgeons now."
For the next six hours, time ceased to exist. I sat on the floor of the hallway outside the operating room, my knees pulled to my chest, praying to whatever deity would listen. I prayed for the man who had terrified me twelve hours ago. The man who had shown me the deepest depths of violence, and the purest form of love. The man who had traded his entire empire for a child he didn't even know, just to heal a wound from seventeen years ago.
Dante sat beside me, keeping a silent vigil. He received calls on his encrypted phone, coordinating the aftermath. The Volkov syndicate was completely shattered. Without Alexei and Viktor, their lieutenants were scattering, fighting amongst themselves. The streets were safe. Sebastian had won the war, but the cost was currently bleeding out on an operating table.
Inside the NICU suite, Baby Boy Miller remained blissfully ignorant of the sacrifices made for his tiny life. He slept, he grew, his monitors beeping a steady, reassuring rhythm that I desperately wished Sebastian’s heart was mimicking.
As the sun began to rise above the city, filtering faint gray light down through the hidden grates of the underground facility, the OR doors finally opened.
Dr. Evans walked out. He looked ten years older than he had the night before. His surgical gown was covered in blood. He pulled off his scrub cap and let out a long, heavy exhale.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart in my throat. I couldn't even formulate the question. I just stared at him, terrified of the answer.
Dr. Evans looked at me and offered a small, exhausted smile.
"He’s incredibly stubborn, Nurse Jenkins," Dr. Evans said quietly. "His heart stopped twice on the table. But we got it back. We repaired the torn arteries, stabilized his vitals, and pumped him full of blood. He’s in a medically induced coma to let his body heal, but... he pulled through. He is going to live."
I collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor as the absolute relief washed over me in a tidal wave. Dante let out a massive breath, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Can I see him?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"He’s in intensive care. He won't wake up for a day or two," Dr. Evans said gently. "But yes. You can sit with him."
I walked into the ICU. Sebastian was hooked up to more machines than Baby Boy Miller. A ventilator tube was taped to his mouth, assisting his breathing. IV lines snaked into both of his arms. He looked broken, battered, and entirely human.
I pulled up a chair beside his bed, taking his large, scarred hand in mine, being careful of the IV lines. I looked at the faded, seventeen-year-old hospital bracelet still wrapped around his wrist. The ink was smeared with his own blood now.
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"You did it, Sebastian," I whispered, resting my forehead against his knuckles, letting my tears fall freely onto his skin. "You saved him. You saved both of your boys. Now, you just have to wake up and meet him."
And for the first time since the nightmare began, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to sleep, holding the hand of the monster who had become my savior.
