The door creaked open softly behind them. Luciano didn't move. He remained by Nia's side, his back stiffening only slightly at the sound.
A nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand. She offered a polite nod, eyes darting between the monitor and Nia's pale face. "Vitals are stable. That's a good sign."
Luciano gave a slight nod, his thumb still brushing over the back of Nia's hand. His jaw was tense.
"She needs rest," the nurse added gently. "Visiting hours are over in ten."
"I'm not leaving," he said, voice low but firm.
The nurse hesitated, then gave a short, understanding smile. "Five more minutes."
As the door clicked shut behind her, silence returned—thick, heavy, uncertain.
Nia stirred faintly, her brows drawing together. "Why… are you here?"
Luciano looked at her, surprised by the strength in her voice. It was thin and raspy but clear enough—and laced with something cold. Something distant.
"I brought you into this," he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. "I didn't want you hurt."
Her eyes didn't soften. They studied him, glazed but unwavering. "I don't even know you."
The words landed with a dull thud in his chest. But he didn't flinch.
"I know," he murmured. "But someone does. And that someone thinks hurting you will break me."
Her breathing hitched ever so slightly. Her fingers twitched in his hold. "You think this is about you?"
Luciano looked down, then shook his head. "No. It's not just about me. But it started with me. And now… now it's tangled."
She blinked slowly, as if trying to process his words through the fog of pain and medication. Her lips parted to speak, but the sound caught in her throat.
Luciano reached for the cup of water on the tray and helped her sip it gently. "You don't have to talk. Just listen."
He placed the cup back, exhaled deeply. "I didn't know they'd go after you. I thought… I thought they'd come for me. Not you. Never you."
Nia's gaze didn't waver. "Who are they?"
Luciano hesitated.
His phone buzzed in his pocket for the second time. This time, it vibrated longer—insistent. A call. He pulled it out slowly and glanced at the screen.
Blocked number.
He declined it.
"They won't stop," he said finally, more to himself than to her. "Not now."
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
But before he could answer, the lights above them flickered—once, then again.
Luciano's eyes narrowed. He stood slowly, gaze shifting toward the door. "Get some sleep," he said quietly, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. "I'll be here."
She tried to keep her eyes on him, but the pull of sleep was too strong. Her lashes lowered. Her breathing evened out.
Luciano didn't sit again.
He walked to the window, peering out into the hospital's quiet night, jaw tight. His reflection stared back at him—haunted, uncertain, and alone in a war he never meant to start.