The cold steel chair groaned beneath Lorenzo as he stood abruptly, his breath heavy with rage and desperation. Romano looked up, startled by the sudden movement.
"Make sure he survives," Lorenzo said, voice sharp like a blade. "Do whatever it takes. I don't care if you have to burn this hospital to the ground or kill every last doctor here—Riccardo leaves that ER alive. Alive, Romano."
Romano opened his mouth to ask where he was going, but Lorenzo was already turning away, long strides echoing down the sterile corridor like war drums.
He pushed through the hospital doors, blood still drying on his sleeves, face pale but his eyes—his eyes were red and wild, unhinged.
The driver stepped forward, hesitantly. "Sir—?"
"I'm driving," Lorenzo growled. "Alone."
The driver stepped back immediately, handing over the keys without another word.
