I stepped back inside Henry’s dimly lit room, where the harsh antiseptic smell of the hospital hung in the air like an unwelcome guest. A few hesitant rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting delicate stripes of light across the floor and illuminating the dust motes that danced slowly in the stillness.

  Luca turned his head, his brow knitting together with concern as I approached. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low and cautious, the tension evident in his posture.

  “I’ve got to go,” I replied, striving to keep my tone steady despite the chaos swirling in my mind.

  “Let me guess, someone needs you to do something for them?” Luca’s voice carried a hint of annoyance.

  “I should be back in a few hours,” I assured him, though the uncertainty of my plans settled like a stone in my stomach.

  "Max, your best friend has just woken up, and you’re going to leave him so soon?" He pressed, the appeal in his tone pulling at my conscience.

  The worry etched across his face was unmistakable, and I felt the weight of his concern pressing down on me. But in this line of work, life doesn’t pause for anyone—especially not for friendship. “Look,” I said, my voice firm yet softened by regret, “I shouldn’t be long; chances are it’s just going to be acting like muscle for someone.”

  With that, I turned away, the sound of my shoes echoing in the confined space as I closed the door behind me. The fluorescent lights above flickered, casting erratic shadows as I walked briskly toward the hospital exit, my heart heavy with the choice I had made.

  As I walked down the brightly lit corridor, a particular room caught my eye through the slightly half-open door. I paused to peer through the small window, curious about the figure inside. An older man lay in the bed, but the angle prevented me from seeing his face clearly. Glancing quickly in both directions to ensure no one was approaching, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the soft creak echoing in the quiet room.

  I closed the door with a gentle click, heart racing, and moved cautiously to the man's bedside. As I got closer, a wave of horror washed over me—there, looking fragile yet familiar, was Tony. He lay hooked up to an oxygen mask, struggling for each breath, the rhythmic hiss of the machine punctuating the ominous silence. His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath a raspy reminder of his deteriorating health.

  Seated beside him, I could barely process the sight: someone who I saw as a father figure, once full of life, now a shadow of himself. Feeling a pang of guilt for intruding, I contemplated slipping away unnoticed, but just as I prepared to rise, a faint voice broke the stillness.

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  “You have aged well, my boy,” Tony croaked, his eyes barely opening to meet mine.

  I adjusted my position in the creaky chair, concern flooding my thoughts. “You still remember me?”

  Tony tried his hardest to produce a smile. “There’s no forgetting your face, Max.”

  “What’s wrong, Tony? What happened to you?” I asked, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.

  “Doctors say there’s something wrong with my lungs,” he replied, each word a struggle. I could see the weariness etched on his face, the pain evident in his soft, raspy tone. “They want me to get artificial lungs. But to be truthful, I don't want them.”

  “Why don’t you? With those artificial lungs you’ll be expanding your life span.” I pressed, searching his eyes for answers.

  Tony slowly lifted his trembling hand and placed it atop mine, a gesture that felt both comforting and heavy. “Max, I have been given a blessing. Do you know what that blessing is?”

  I fell silent, letting the question linger in the air.

  “How many people in this city get the chance to die of old age? Very few. If I had to choose between a peaceful end or being shot in the back while gathering fruit and veg, I would much rather embrace the natural course of life,” Tony explained, his voice growing weaker but resolute.

  Before I could respond, the door opened slowly, and in walked a familiar face from my past—a man I never thought I’d see again.

  “Max? Is that you?” His voice quivered with surprise.

  “Tom?” I replied, feeling a mix of shock and nostalgia. He had aged since I last saw him, his once dark hair now speckled with grey and a pair of glasses resting on his nose, giving him a scholarly air.

  Tom’s expression shifted from surprise to disbelief as he took in my presence. “God, it’s been two years since I last saw you…” He glanced over at Tony, then back to me, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. “I take it Luca managed to get in touch with you?”

  “Yeah, he did.” I responded, recounting how Luca managed to find me, as well as everything that happened between me and Henry.

  Tom closed the door behind him, the click echoing in the small space as he settled into a nearby chair. “Wow. I’m glad to see Henry is in better spirits. It’s good that you came to visit the don.” His use of the title felt heavy with unspoken history.

  A weighty silence enveloped us before Tom continued, “Ever since you and Henry left the family, things haven’t felt the same. If you’d consider returning, we’d be more than happy to welcome you back.”

  “What about the commission? They'll be pissed off if we come back.” I asked, my voice steady despite the chaos swirling in my mind.

  “They’ll come to understand,” Tom assured me, a hint of confidence in his tone.

  I pondered his offer, the gravity of the situation pulling me in multiple directions. It was all so overwhelming. Excusing myself gently, I rose from the chair, promising to think it over as I made my way toward the door, the weight of my decision looming larger than ever.