Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 62

Davina's POV:

The air in the hospital room was thick with the scent of antiseptic and unspoken grief. I sat by Lexi’s bedside, holding her hand. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, sedated breaths—a heartbreakingly fragile sight. The doctor's final, clinical words about the termination of the pregnancy kept looping in my mind, the clinical term obscuring the horror of Dexter's final, savage act.

I had just ended the difficult call with my mother, Lydia. My voice was hoarse from managing the narrative—pushing the lie of Dexter's "friends" and the necessity of Ezra's protection. Lydia was broken, unable to process the death, the loss, and the man who was now our family's deadly shield. I had convinced her to stay away, to let Ezra's team handle the destruction.

The door opened softly, and Ezra stepped inside.

He wore a dark, immaculate suit, his posture rigid. He looked entirely composed, the chaos of the living room already scrubbed from his appearance, replaced by the mask of the unflappable king. But beneath the facade, his eyes were strained, dark with exhaustion and some emotion I refused to name.

"They've stabilized her," he said quietly, his gaze resting briefly on Lexi. "I have security on the floor. No one will bother you."

I slowly let go of Lexi's hand and stood, turning to face him. The warmth of the previous night was a lie; the blood on the floor was the only truth.

"You shouldn't have done that, Ezra," I said, my voice barely a whisper, brittle with cold control. "You shouldn't have killed him."

His composure fractured instantly. "What did you expect me to do?" he demanded, taking a step toward me. "Give him a warning shot? He was on top of you! He was going to assault you and then kill both of you! I did what was necessary to guarantee your life!"

"I know what you did!" I countered, keeping my voice low, sharp with accusation. "But you didn't need to kill him! You could have stopped him without taking a life! You just bring death everywhere you go! You bring death and you call it protection!"

His jaw hardened. "I am the only one who can protect you, Davina! You ran out of my house with a gun you don't know how to use! This is what 'handling it' looks like in the world you chose!"

"I chose you, not this world! You promised to keep me away from this world." I whispered.

Sheer, desperate possessiveness flared in his eyes. He reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip hard and abrupt, pulling me toward him, forcing my gaze up to meet his furious one.

"Look at me!" he commanded, his voice raw. "You think I wanted that filth on my hands? I was terrified! I did it because I would burn the world down to keep you breathing!"

I stared up at him, the force of his emotion hitting me like a physical blow. But my sight was clouded by the image of Lexi, broken and empty. I didn't resist his grip, but I deliberately turned my head away, breaking the forced eye contact. The gesture was a greater rejection than any scream.

"I know," I whispered, my voice flat. I laid my free hand gently over his crushing grip. "But right now, you are the death in this room. I want you to leave. I want to be left alone with my sister."

He took a sharp, deep breath, his grip easing but not breaking. "I will wait for you outside," he insisted, his voice now lower, trying to reclaim his control and assert his protective role. "I'm not leaving the hospital without you. I'll be in the waiting room."

I finally pulled my arm free, stepping back. My eyes, devoid of tears, were resolute. "No," I stated firmly. "I don't want to see you. Just go."

He stood there for a long moment, watching the finality settle in my face. He saw the cold, closed door I had erected between us, understood that his saving act had exiled him from my heart. He had no argument left.

He gave a slow, curt nod. Without another word, without a backward glance, he turned and walked out. The heavy door clicked shut, leaving me with the silence, my broken sister, and the cold, terrifying knowledge of the man I loved.

***********************************

Ezra's POV:

I leaned against the cool, painted wall of the hospital corridor, a few yards from Lexi’s door. My heart was pounding a painful rhythm against my ribs, echoing the terrified rush of the drive. The adrenaline had gone, leaving behind a terrifying, gaping void.

She told me to leave. She doesn't want to see me.

The words sliced deeper than any knife. I had destroyed an alliance, risked my own life, and ended a man's existence to ensure her safety, only to be dismissed as the death in the room. My entire foundation—my purpose in her life—had been rejected.

A trembling started in my hands, and I shoved them deep into my pockets, struggling to regain the brutal composure that was my armor.

"Andrea" I spoke quietly into my comm, keeping my voice low and level.

"Ezra," Andrea responded instantly from down the hall, where he and two other men stood watch.

"No changes to the security perimeter. Double the external surveillance on the hospital and the mother’s house. No one goes near Davina’s sister. Lexi is to be treated as high-priority collateral. And I want the complete profile on every associate and known enemy of the Sokolovs on my desk in an hour. Those bastards will use this opportunity."

My mind worked in efficient, cold commands, compensating for the brokenness inside me. Davina had to be protected, from my rivals, especially Tatiana’s family, as by now they knew she was my weakness. The greatest threat to Davina was no longer Dexter, but the fallout from my choosing her.

I pulled out my phone, reviewing the images one of my men had discreetly sent of the house cleanup. The shattered door. The blood. The sight of the corpse on the rug. The evidence was erased, but the memory was permanent. I should have killed Dexter months ago. I should have never allowed him to touch her.

I glanced at the closed door. I knew I couldn't go back in, but I couldn't leave. I was terrified. Not of Tatiana, not of rivals, but of the silence behind that door. She was hurt, she was grieving, and she was pushing me away.

My immediate priority was her safety, not my comfort. I had to respect the space she demanded, but I would not yield the perimeter. I would wait for her to come back to me, until she was ready to face the darkness again. However long it takes.