Ravenous Kingpin (Kingpins of the Syndicate #4)

37. Killian

CHAPTER 37

Killian

T here was no bracing myself for the sight.

I stood in shock as the bitter scent of antiseptic, soaps, and cleansers filled my nose. Bile rose in my throat as I took in the bodies lying side by side. A child and a woman.

The woman I was supposed to protect with my life. The woman that lay deathly pale, her machine barely beeping.

My stomach churned as a destructive rage threatened to explode.

A trembling voice pulled me from my stupor. “I’m about to stitch her up.”

My eyes snapped to an old man, a doctor who stood in between the two operating tables, still in surgical wear and stitching up the child while Emory lay cut wide open—from her chest to her abdomen.

“What the fuck is going on here?” I roared, my heartbreak slamming into me so hard I swayed on my feet.

The doctor’s hand froze mid-stitch on the child, his eyes locked on me with fear.

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

I wanted to plow into the doctor and punch him until my knuckles bled. But I couldn’t. He was the only one in the room who could guarantee my wife’s safety. If I killed him, two bodies would bleed out.

“What the fuck—” Basilio’s voice came from behind. He came to stand next to me and his eyes traveled over the scene. I could read his mind reeling from the scene. “What have you done to my sister?” he growled, his finger on the trigger.

My eyes flicked to my brother-in-law, his expression gray like he was about to puke. He stepped forward, the barrel of his gun pressed against the doctor’s forehead.

“Get ahold of yourself, Basilio,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. “And don’t you fucking dare pull that trigger.”

His dark eyes, so much like Emory’s, met mine, burning with the rage I felt in my heart. “Why?”

I tilted my chin at the bodies on the operating tables. “They’re still alive. He has to stitch them up.”

His jaw clenched as he nodded, and my gaze coasted to the doctor.

“Fix them,” I said, pointing my own gun at his head. “If either one of them dies, so do you.”

“O-okay,” he stuttered, and with trembling hands, he resumed his work. He moved swiftly and efficiently, but each stitch in and out of the skin made me more impatient.

I took a deep breath before squaring my shoulders, then moved closer to the operating tables, the doctor eyeing me warily as he finished up with the child. When he moved to Emory, it took everything in me not to shoot him. But a dead surgeon was a useless surgeon.

“What have you done to them?” I asked, a tremor rolling through me. It felt like the earth was ready to swallow me.

“Liver,” he muttered, working fast. “This woman was the child’s only match.”

My eyes darted between them.

“Where are the people in charge?” I demanded. Someone had to die today. “Where is the child’s mother?”

The doctor’s movements paused for a beat as he looked up at me, clearly confused. Likely wondering who I was. “The woman who raised this child has been kidnapped. And the child’s biological mother…” He trailed off, lowering his gaze to Emory’s unconscious form. His next words were like a punch to my chest. “Well, you’re looking at her.”

Emory

A weightless feeling wrapped around me, cocooning me in a fortress of white sheets and warm blankets.

I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to be alive.

Alive.

My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked against the brightness of the sun seeping through the large window as bits and pieces of images filtered in while I was in and out of consciousness.

I glanced around the room. It looked familiar, yet my foggy brain had a hard time figuring out from where. Not that it mattered, because after years of searching, I’d finally found my daughter.

Only to lose her in the same breath.

I shifted, a sharp pain piercing through my midsection and abdomen, and a painful groan escaped me.

“ Don’t . Don’t move.”

A set of familiar hands reached around me, adjusting the pillow and draping another blanket over my lap.

Killian .

He had been with me the entire time I lay unconscious; I knew that now. Whispering words. Stroking my hair. Holding my hand. I thought it was the drugs and delirium, but it was him.

Only… he was dead. Did that mean I was too?

I turned my head and found dark blue eyes assessing me.

“Welcome home, álainn ,” Killian said roughly. “We’re back in the manor. We’re in New York.”

I blinked, confusion swarming my senses. Was I seeing things? Had I lost my mind? I gave my head a light shake, scrunching my nose. I might as well go with images of my husband’s ghost surrounding me.

“Are you real?” I rasped, my mouth dry.

“Yes.”

“But you died.” My groggy mind struggled to grasp the meaning of what I was seeing. “I saw you die.”

“If I was dead, could I hug you?” Killian leaned over me, pulling me gently to his chest. “If I was dead, could you feel me against you, telling you how much I love you? That life without you isn’t worth living?”

“But I saw you,” I murmured, my face buried against his chest. I inhaled his scent greedily into my lungs while my heart fought against my ribs.

His strong hands roamed my back. “I had a bulletproof vest on.”

Suddenly, intense emotion flooded me. My husband was here , holding me, hugging me like he’d been lost without me.

“You came for me,” I whispered, meeting his bloodshot eyes.

“I told you I’d protect you from the devil himself.”

He did, and he meant it too. But now, I was caught between happiness and despair. Would God always give and take? He’d given me Killian and taken away my daughter. Had they taken my liver? Did she survive?

I pulled away, my eyes falling down to my hospital gown. I stared at the crisp white cloth, memories flooding me all at once. Learning that Amara was sick. Liana Volkov.

My eyebrows drew together, then I asked, “Did they?—”

What should I say? Did they take half my liver and give it to a girl who happened to be our daughter? Did she make it? Where was she? Would I ever get to hold her?

Before I could gather my thoughts, Killian brushed a lock of hair away from my forehead and said, “They took a piece of your liver. I found you just as the surgeon was about to stitch you back up.”

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back against the pillows. “And the little girl, do we know if she…”

I gulped, unable to ask the question I didn’t want the wrong answer to.

“The little girl is recovering from surgery,” Killian answered, tilting his chin to my right. “She’s in the room next door.” He paused before adding, “I want you to get better, but then we have a lot to talk about.”

My eyes locked on the white wall, my heart threatening to crack my rib cage with each drum. I stared as if it would magically disappear and reveal what lay behind it.

“She’s here?”

“Yes, Em. Our daughter is here.” The words made me blink, and slowly, too slowly, I turned my head to look at my husband. He leaned over me and cupped my cheeks. “ Our daughter,” he rasped, and I saw the same emotions burning in my heart staring back at me through those blue eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me, Emory?”

There was no accusation or blame in his voice, just the same pain and despair I had felt for the past six years.

“I was scared,” I croaked, sitting up slowly with help from both him and the pillows behind me, wincing from the pain in my abdomen. “My father killed my mother for attempting to take me away from him. Although now I’ve learned he wasn’t even my father, so it seems… I… I don’t know…”

Gio DiLustro had probably waited for the opportune moment to kill my mom.

“Fuck, álainn , you should have told me.” Again, there was nothing but pain in his voice. He moved closer until his forehead rested against mine as he closed his eyes, hiding his ghosts from me. “I should have been there to help you. I should have protected both of you.”

“Will she be okay?” I whispered, closing my own eyes. “What did the doctor say?”

“Her body accepted the organ.” His voice trembled and I could feel it in my own heart. “But she’s still being monitored.”

My eyes burned behind my closed eyelids.

“What if she hates us?”

There was a pause, and when I opened my eyes, there was fierce determination in his gaze. “Then we’ll earn her love. For as long as it takes.”

“For as long as it takes,” I repeated.