For a moment, I couldn’t move.
Vincent Romano’s hand was wrapped around my wrist, his fingers cold and impossibly strong for a man who had spent half a year lying motionless beneath hospital sheets. His eyes were open, but not truly seeing. They moved through the dim red emergency light as if he were looking for something in a room that no longer existed.
My pulse thundered so loudly I almost missed the second wordless movement of his mouth.
I leaned closer despite every instinct warning me to step back.
“Mr. Romano?” I whispered. “Vincent, can you hear me?”
His grip tightened.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to answer.
The heart monitor was still racing, sharp alarms cutting into the storm-heavy silence. In the hallway outside, footsteps shifted. One of the guards must have heard the monitor, because a shadow crossed the narrow strip of glass beside the door.
I pulled gently at my wrist.
“Vincent, I need to check you.”
His eyes moved toward my face.
Really moved.
This time, his gaze focused.
“Click here to read the full story”.
