The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Selene’s body was slick with sweat and crimson, her breaths shallow,

trembling on the edge of life and death as Mira raced through the

underground corridor with her cradled tightly in her arms. Her

footsteps echoed off the cold, sterile walls–fast, sharp, frantic, The

gash across Selene’s abdomen wouldn’t stop bleeding. Blood spilled

like a river, pooling along Mira’s torn sleeves and dripping with every

step she took.

“She’s losing too much!” one of the guards yelled, opening the double

doors to the surgical wing.

Damian’s figure appeared out of the shadows, soaked in grime, his eyes burning. His face–stone. But his hands shook.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

They all saw it–the panic buried deep in his chest, the rage he tried

to cage.

Selene was lifted from Mira’s arms and placed onto the surgical table. The doctors didn’t hesitate. Scissors tore through what remained of

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her shirt. A nurse pressed gauze into the gushing wound while

another injected something into her arm. Her body jolted slightly.

“Get me the extraction tools,” the lead surgeon barked. “Pulse

dropping. We’re going in now!”

Damian stood at the edge of the room, fists clenched, his wolf/

growling just beneath the surface. Mira placed a hand on his chest to

stop him from walking further in, her own face pale with fear.

“You can’t go in there,” she whispered. “Let them save her.”

He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and his eyes stayed locked on

Selene’s motionless form.

Blood. So much blood.

He had seen bodies fall before. Seen enemies bleed out, soldiers die in

war. But nothing–nothing–had ever gutted him like this.

She had taken the bullet for him.

Selene.

The girl with fire in her soul and pain in her eyes. The girl who had barely begun to live… and already bled for someone like him.

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In the surgical room, machines beeped in a desperate rhythm. The

doctors worked fast, hands steady, voices low but urgent. One called

out her vitals–unstable. Another suctioned blood from her lungs.

The bullet had ripped through her abdomen, nicked a rib, and nearly

pierced her spine.

“She shouldn’t have survived that impact,” the surgeon muttered.

“But she’s still fighting.“.

ށ

Damian pressed his hand to the glass window, his palm trembling.

And for the first time in years, the mighty Alpha looked powerless.

He didn’t roar. He didn’t punch a wall or command an army.

He just watched.

A man clinging to hope.

The corridor behind him remained silent–except for Mira’s pacing

and the steady hum of the ventilation system. Everyone knew better

than to speak. The air was too heavy, the grief too raw.

Selene had been in his arms just moments ago.

Her voice had been shaky when she called his name.

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And now she was lying still, her face pale, her body bruised and

broken.

But she was alive.

For now.

A nurse shouted inside the room. “Pressure’s dropping again! She’s

fading!”

“Clamp it!” the surgeon yelled. “Hold her open–don’t let her crash

on us!”

Damian’s claws pressed from beneath his skin. He gritted his teeth

and turned away from the window for a moment, pacing. His breath

was shallow, chest rising and falling too fast, like something was

crushing him from the inside.

She shouldn’t be in there.

She shouldn’t have taken that hit.

His fists met the concrete wall, knuckles cracking, blood streaking against the surface–but he barely felt it. The physical pain meant nothing. Not when she was in there, barely holding on.

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He couldn’t hear her voice anymore.

Couldn’t feel her warmth.

All he had were memories–and they weren’t enough.

The first time he saw her–scrappy, reckless, eyes defiant despite the

bruises. Her laugh that came too rarely. The way she challenged him

when no one else dared.

Selene wasn’t supposed to be fragile.

She was supposed to fight.

But now she was fading. And there was nothing he could do.

Inside the surgical room, the machines beeped louder. A second wave

of urgency hit the doctors. Something was wrong.

“Heart’s stalling!”

“Charge–get the paddles!”

“No, wait–she’s stabilizing!”

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They all froze.

The lead surgeon squinted at the monitor.

And then-

“She’s breathing.”

A shaky sigh escaped Mira’s lips. Her knees gave out, and she sat on

the floor, eyes filled with disbelief.

“She’s fighting,” she whispered.

Damian didn’t move. Not yet. Not until they came out and said the

words.

He wouldn’t hope too soon.

He wouldn’t trust fate too easily.

Not after everything.

He paced again, slower this time, rubbing at the blood drying on his

hands. The metallic scent made his stomach churn. Every second

stretched endlessly. He heard the rhythm of her heart through the

machines, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her pulse under his

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fingers. Hear her voice.

Selene, damn you, don’t leave me.

He would never say it out loud. Not here. Not now.

But that silent plea clung to him like a shadow.

The surgeon finally stepped out. Sweat clung to his brow, his gloves

soaked in blood. His eyes–exhausted.

“She’s stable,” he said, voice hoarse. “The bullet’s out. We’ve stitched

the abdominal wall. There’s internal damage, but she’ll live.”

Damian exhaled slowly.

A breath that felt like it had been trapped for centuries.

Mira broke into a sob, covering her face with both hands. The nurse

beside her leaned down to help her sit properly, but Mira shook her

head, overwhelmed.

Damian’s jaw remained clenched, but his posture eased. His wolf

quieted just enough to breathe.

But that fire–that grief–wasn’t gone.

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He turned toward the observation window again and stared at her.

Her chest rose and fell, shallow but steady.

The doctors moved around her, adjusting wires, cleaning blood from

her skin, setting up IVs.

Selene didn’t wake.

But she was alive.

And that–meant something.

Damian stepped closer to the glass again, his fingertips brushing

against it. “You stubborn little thing,” he muttered. “You weren’t

supposed to do that. You weren’t supposed to save me.”

But she had.

And now, she’d never be the same again.

Neither would he.

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