Chapter 9 - The Brink of Death
I pressed both of my hands firmly against the gaping wound in Emma's chest.
Warm blood slipped through my fingers as she struggled to pull air into her damaged lungs.
Her eyes fluttered uncontrollably, and her skin was turning a terrifying shade of pale blue.
I screamed for Vincenzo to untie her mother and get the van ready immediately.
I hauled myself back into the wheelchair, and Vincenzo gently lifted Emma into my lap.
We sped through the deserted city streets toward an underground clinic run by a disgraced mob surgeon.
I held Emma tightly against my chest, begging her repeatedly not to close her eyes.
She looked up at me with a weak, fading smile and whispered that she was glad I was safe.
Then her body went entirely limp, and her breathing stopped completely.
We crashed through the doors of the clinic, and the medical team immediately rushed her into surgery.
I sat in the sterile hallway for three agonizing hours, covered entirely in her blood.
The pain of my paralyzed legs was absolutely nothing compared to the crushing agony in my heart.
I finally admitted to myself that I had fallen deeply in love with the fearless maid who refused to quit.
The lead surgeon finally pushed through the swinging doors, pulling off his bloody mask.
He looked exhausted and told me that the bullet had barely missed her heart.
They had managed to stabilize her, but she was currently in a deep, medically induced coma.
I let out a massive breath of relief, thanking God that she was still alive.
The surgeon reached into his pocket and handed me a small, folded piece of paper.
He told me he found it tightly clenched in Emma's fist when they placed her on the operating table.
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I unfolded the bloody paper, and my heart stopped dead in my chest.
It was a signed federal immunity document, proving that Emma had also been working for the FBI the entire time.
