The sight of Lucas—pale, bleeding, and barely clinging to life—felt like a punch to the gut. It was impossible to reconcile this with the confident, witty man I'd known for so long. Lucas had been strong, always in control, but now, he was hanging on by a thread. My heart ached as I knelt beside him, gripping his cold hand, willing him to open his eyes.
William spoke into the phone, his voice steady but urgent. "We need an ambulance at the Bennett Winery, fast. A man's been stabbed. Critical condition."
The words sent a shiver through me. Stabbed. Someone had gotten close enough to do this—to make sure Lucas couldn't defend himself. And whoever it was, they had left him to die slowly.
"Why would Ferraro do this?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "If he needed Lucas, why leave him like this?"
William's jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room, every inch of him coiled and alert. "It might not have been Ferraro directly. This feels personal, like a message."
