Alessio

My phone rang in my pocket, Callan's name appearing on the corner of my helmet's face shield. Despite my desire to just ignore the call, I slowed down my motorcycle and tapped a button on the handle. He should know better than to interrupt my evening ride for something as useless as college supplies.

"The fuck, Cal? I swear I'm not gett"—

"Just fucking listen for once, you twat!"

I winced at the tone and amplitude of his voice. What even got his knickers in a twist?

When I heard his deep breaths, I stopped on the edge of the forest trail. Something's seriously wrong.

"Cal? What's going on?" I gulped, awaiting his answer.

His momentary silence seemed to last ages. "Al, it... just reach Espero hospital as soon as possible. I'll explain everything there." His voice was soft but the slight tremor in his tenor had my nerves buzzing with trepidation.

My eyes widened and the hair on the nape of my neck stood straight as the worst possible scenarios flooded my mind. "It's not Sia, right?" She'd been on a bike ride near Thames.

"No. She's well and with me right now. Just come here. And drive safe." He rushed to disconnect the call before I could get a word in.

I released the breath I'd been holding. And that was when another thought hit. Gramps. He'd mentioned a back pain at breakfast.

I turned around and sped up, way faster than I'd go on rugged, wet roads on any other day. Fuck. This can't be happening. Why can't that old man just let us take a breather!?

Mossy air filled my lungs with every pant. Branches snapped and leaves crunched under my dirtbike's tyres as I swerved around the trees. The chirps of birds I would've found comforting on any other day, did nothing to ease my anxiety, my mind solely on my grandfather. What if it's a heart attack? He's gotta be okay.

As soon as the swampy track made way for an asphalt road, the whizz of the wind amplified. Cold air bit my skin despite all the leather I was clad in. Adrenaline pumped in my veins, pushing me to go faster. I switched the gears and twisted the throttle, dodging the cars on the busy motorway.

My heart thumped against my ribcage as I drifted into the hospital parking lot. Immediately, I became hyper aware of the loud chatter saturating the air. A very familiar chatter accompanied by sounds of camera shutters. What's happened to Gramps that even paps are here?! Maybe they're here for someone else. I'm probably just overthinking. But maybe not? Fuck, I don't know.

I dismounted my bike and switched my helmet for a baseball cap and a mask—I'd rather not take chances with these fucktards and their fuckery, especially when the reason behind their unwelcomed presence could very well be my own family.

Now, where the fuck are Cal and Sia? How am I fucking supposed to get through that?

I turned my head the other way and, sure enough, Callan was rushing toward me.

"Callan Declan Sinclair, y"—

He wrapped his arms around me, cutting me off. On instinct, I hugged him and rubbed his back, hoping to alleviate some of his distress. "Cal?"

He pulled back a moment later and that's when I noticed his disheveled state: His hair was a mess and his dress pants and shirt were wrinkled. His red-rimmed eyes bored into my grey ones, and all I saw was perturbation. His right index finger scratched the side of his thumb vigorously.

The true weight of the situation caught up to me, making my breath hitch. Anticipation chilled my bones as I waited for the nightmarish news.

He grabbed my shoulders and heaved in a sigh. "Mum, Dad and Gramps were on their way home from the office when they got into an accident."

I shook my head. "What do you mean?"

He just bit his lip in response. The tears welling up in his eyes were enough of an answer, though.

My body froze and all my senses haywired. I felt it all and at the same time, nothing. Like my mind couldn't comprehend it, or rather refused to.

"Al!" Callan's voice shook me out of my dazed state.

"Y-yeah." I blinked. "I-I'm fine. I'm here."

He let out a loud puff of air and asked, "You wanna see them?"

All I could do was nod.

Callan led me through the employees-only entrance at the back. As soon as we entered, the smell of antiseptics penetrated my mask. Stark white walls, tiled floors and metal chairs bore an unpleasant greeting. I climbed up a set of stairs behind him, avoiding all the people occupying the place. They reeked of nothing but pain and despair.

Within moments, we stood outside a private room. "This one is Dad's."

I nodded and went to open the door.

As I was about to walk in, Cal's voice halted me in my steps. "Chloe and Sam need my help handling the Media. Will you be okay?"

I nodded without turning to him.

He sighed and continued, "Call me if you need anything. And Les is with Mum in the next one. Gramps is still undergoing an autopsy."

With a slight bob of my head in acknowledgement, I stepped into the room, shutting the door behind me.

A sight I knew would haunt me forever lay before me—Dad's naturally pale skin had turned ghostly, blood matted his blond hair and bandages covered his face and major parts of his arms.

His image from morning flashed before my eyes, when he was teasing Mum with that mischievous gleam in his dark blue eyes. The sheer contrast baffled me. How, just how?

I trod forward—the short few steps felt like miles—and pressed my hand to his chest. Maybe, just maybe....

Nothing.

A lone tear trailed down my face and endless others followed. They're all gone.