CHAPTER 91: RAGE

Chapter 91

KATYA POV

"Come with me today, cara mia," Nonna said as she folded her reading glasses and set them on the table. "We’ll visit Romeo. It’s time we asked the doctor how he’s doing."

The words hit harder than I expected.

For a second, I just stood there — frozen, stupid, my heart tripping over itself.

Nonna had visited him countless times before. Always without me. But now... now she wanted me beside her.

"Me?" I asked carefully, searching her expression. "Are you sure?"

Please say no.

"Of course." Her smile was warm — too warm. "You’ve been here all this time too. You deserve to see him."

Deserve. The word lodged somewhere between my ribs. Why? He hasn’t been kind to me.

He’s not someone I care for. In fact, he made my life hell when he was awake.

I rather liked him in a coma.

I tugged at the hem of the yellow sundress — suddenly too soft, too cheerful for where we were going.

"I’ll just change first," I murmured. "Something plain—"

"No." Nonna’s voice was gentle but firm enough to stop me mid-step. "Wear this. It suits you beautifully. The color brings out your eyes."

The compliment should’ve felt nice. Instead, it felt like pressure — like she was dressing me for something I hadn’t agreed to.

"I don’t think—"

"Please," she interrupted softly, her weathered hand curling over mine. "For me."

And that was that. My arguments slipped away like water through fingers.

Before I knew it, we were walking down the long corridor toward the infirmary.

We passed tall windows overlooking the gardens, golden afternoon light spilling across the floor. My steps grew heavier with each one.

I kept adjusting the straps of the dress, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears — anything to keep my hands busy.

"You’re quiet," Nonna observed.

"I just..." My throat felt dry. We turned another corner and my stomach knotted tighter.

The sharp antiseptic smell of Romeo’s room hit me first — cold and sterile, like everything inside had been scrubbed clean of life.

And then I saw him.

Still and pale against the white sheets, like he’d been carved from marble. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady waves — the only proof that time hadn’t stopped completely.

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until it escaped me in a shaky exhale. Even unconscious, I was afraid of him.

Nonna stepped closer, fingertips brushing his hand. "Ciao, ragazzo mio," she whispered — her voice trembling for the first time I’d ever heard.

I stayed near the door. I couldn’t move. Not yet.

The doctor entered a moment later, clipboard tucked under her arm. "Signora," she greeted with a polite nod, glancing at me briefly before focusing back on Nonna.

"How is he, Isabella?" Nonna asked, her eyes still on her grandson.

"He’s stable. And — good news." A pause, deliberate.

Classic doctor’s move. "There have been small responses."

My heart jumped. "Responses?"

"Yes. Reflexive movements in his fingers, occasional shifts in his eyes beneath the lids. They’re faint, almost imperceptible, but they’re there."

Nonna pressed a trembling hand to her lips. I stared at the man who had once turned my life upside down the moment he raided my home.

The man who might now be clawing his way back to consciousness.

And instead of relief — like a normal person should feel — a cold wave of panic washed over me.

Because if he was waking up... everything I’d been trying to outrun would wake up with him.

Nonna turned to me, eyes shining. "Do you hear that, Katya? He’s fighting. He’s trying to come back."

"I hear," I whispered, voice tight. "I see." My eyes narrowed.

But what I didn’t say — what I couldn’t say — was that a part of me wished he’d stay asleep a little longer.

Because once he opened his eyes, I knew these small privileges I’d begun to have would vanish. No more hiding. No more pretending I wasn’t terrified of what came next.

And as I stood there — the girl in the bright yellow dress who didn’t belong in this story — I traced the seams of my sleeves and counted the seconds between each breath.

Because every one brought him closer.

The doctor cleared her throat, pulling both Nonna’s and my attention back to her. "Signora, may we speak privately?" She looked at me again, and I shifted slightly.

"Sure, go on, speak," Nonna said, but the doctor’s eyes stayed on me. I got the message and was about to leave the room when Nonna frowned.

"Where are you going, cara mia?"

I turned back, my head dipping. "To give you space, Nonna."

"Nonsense. Stay here and watch over il mio bel nipote," she said with a grin, then flicked her eyes to the doctor. "You — let’s step outside."

The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly the room felt too quiet. Too still.

Just me and him.

I stood frozen near the wall, arms crossed tight over my chest, trying not to look at the bed.

But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier my thoughts became.

What happens when he wakes up?

The question circled over and over like a vulture.

What happens when those cold eyes open again and the nightmare starts over? When the man who burned my life to the ground comes back to finish the job?

He ruined everything.

Frank’s bored eyes. Gone.

One pull of a trigger — and his body hit the floor like it was nothing.

I still saw it sometimes when I closed my eyes — the indifference on Romeo’s face as the life drained out of Frank’s.

And Aria... I didn’t even know if she was alive. Maybe he’d killed her too. Maybe she was rotting in some ditch because of him.

Why were all these memories clawing their way back now? I’d tried so hard to bury them, to pretend it was just a nightmare.

My throat tightened. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.

He deserves worse than this, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. He deserves to never open his eyes again.

I hated how easy it was to agree.

I didn’t even realize I was moving until I was standing beside his bed, staring down at the rise and fall of his chest. Every breath he took felt like an insult.

So fragile. So breakable.

What if I just... remove that mask and press a pillow to his face.

Would he be gone forever?

The thought came unbidden — dark and dangerous — and I hated that it felt like an option at all.

If he never woke up, maybe I’d never have to run again. Maybe this would finally end.

My fingers hovered near the edge of the machine, trembling — not from fear, but from the weight of the choice hanging in the air.

One decision. One second. And maybe I’d never have to be afraid again.

I stood there, breathing shallow, heart twisting between rage and terror.

Because for the first time since all of this started, the power was mine — and that terrified me even more.

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