What will happen to us if Cristiano dies?
Just then the sound of the chopper’s blades cut through the night. I’m up so fast I tip the cup in my hand, spilling tea on the carpet. Cerberus gives an anxious yelp, his tail wagging once. He remains beside me as I get to the window. The helicopter angles toward the roof, blowing my hair in my face.
I go to the door, Cerberus at my heels. Alec is dozing on a chair outside my door. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just go to bed. I wasn’t going anywhere. He stirs awake when he hears me.
“The chopper,” I say.
He’s on his feet in an instant and I follow him in the opposite direction from the stairs. We take several turns and climb two sets of stairs. All I can think is, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please God don’t let him be dead.
And then before I even see him, I hear him.
“I’m fine,” Cristiano growls to someone in his usual annoyed way and relief floods through me.
I’m grateful for Cerberus’s bark as he rushes Cristiano coming around the corner. I have a chance to school my features, tamp down my obvious relief.
He’s my enemy.
He. Is. My. Enemy. I have to remember this.
He may be the lesser of all the evils but that’s only because he needs me. For the moment at least. I know how the cartel works. I understood why my brothers were anxious to get me and Marcus married.
And my uncle’s words from earlier ring in my ears.
Cristiano straightens from his crouch where he was petting Cerberus. I see the pain this causes on his face, and I see how he’s holding his arm against his side. The blood that stains his tuxedo shirt is obvious. He’d had his hand pressed there earlier too. I remember when he’d missed a step as he’d crouched around me, protecting me. Was that when he was hit? Did he save me from a bullet only to take it himself?
His jacket is gone. He looked nice tonight. Cleaned up.
Then his eyes meet mine and I feel a rush of something I can’t or won’t name surge through me.
He’s using you. Just like every one of them. That’s all.
“Cristiano,” Dante says as Cristiano comes to me.
Dante got to the house about an hour ago and has left me alone in Cristiano’s room. That surprised me but I also saw the worry in his eyes. The near panic. He loves his brother.
“Slow down, man. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Dante says.
“I’m fine,” Cristiano grumbles, stopping in front of me.
He reaches out to touch my face with his good arm, just staring at me for a long minute, thumb caressing my cheek. And I realize I’m doing the same. Staring at him. He blinks, slides his hand to my neck, my arm. He looks me over. “The blood—”
“It’s not mine. I’m not hurt,” I say quickly.
He nods, looks relieved.
From beside him I see Dante’s expression harden in my periphery.
Cristiano grits his teeth, and I can tell he’s in tremendous pain. His face drains of color and he closes his hand over my shoulder. In the next moment, I feel his weight.
“Help!” I cry out as he stumbles into me. I reach out to catch him as if I could keep him upright.
Dante grabs hold of him.
“I’m fine,” Cristiano grits out, straightening, shoving Dante off. His face contorts as he manages the pain.
“Cristiano!” It’s Lenore. She rushes toward him from the top of the stairs, looks him over and then over to Antonio. “Get him to his room. Doctor Marino is waiting.”
I’m forgotten in the chaos and watch them go, watch more men shuffle down from the roof. They all look like they’ve been through a war.
“Come on,” Alec says to me.
I turn to find him waiting at the door we just came through. I nod and follow him back down to Cristiano’s bedroom where I watch Antonio and Dante ease him onto the bed. The doctor who’d come earlier tears Cristiano’s shirt open.
“Get the dog out,” Dante orders. “And the girl.”
“I’m staying.”
“Get her out,” he tells Alec.
“She stays,” Cristiano says, voice low, but the authority in it no different than if he had roared.
I raise my chin, give Dante a defiant look before nearing the bed to see the damage.
The doctor brings a needle toward Cristiano’s arm.
“No,” Cristiano says, giving a shake of his head.
“For the pain.”
“No. Get the bullet out. Sew me up. I need to get up.”
“I also need to reset your shoulder. Again. You’re not getting up,” the doctor says, putting the needle away, muttering something about how he’s always been stubborn.
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s the adrenaline leaving my system. Cristiano meets my eyes and opens the palm of his good hand.
“Come here.”
I go to him. He looks me over while I watch the doctor cut away what’s left of his other sleeve. He’s bleeding from his side and his arm lays at a strange angle.
“Why didn’t you clean up?” Cristiano asks me.
I look down at myself. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll reset your shoulder first. It’s going to hurt but maybe it’ll teach you a lesson,” the doctor says. “Although I doubt it.”
Cristiano smiles and I wonder how much effort it takes him to do that. “For what I pay you, you could pretend to be nice.”
“You should pay me double for the number of times I’ve sewn you back together for Christ’s sake.”
The doctor looks at me, gives me an expression as if asking if I’m ready.
I bend down, turn Cristiano’s face to mine. “You’re going to look like Frankenstein soon.”
Cristiano grins, opens his mouth to say something and I know the instant the doctor slips his shoulder back into place. I see it on Cristiano’s face, see it in how he grits his teeth and hear it in the curse he mutters sending the doctor straight to hell.
“There,” the doctor says.
Cristiano turns to him. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to do it,” he teases. I have no idea how he has the energy. He looks half-dead.
“I’ve had to reset this shoulder what, three times now?” The doctor tells me, that last part directed to Cristiano.
“Four. You’re getting old.” Cristiano’s eyes flutter closed.
“What’s happening?” I ask, panicked.
“Shock. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’s healthy as that monster dog he’s got out there.”
As if Cerberus has heard and understood, he howls from out in the hallway.
“I need to get the bullet out and clean him up, see what else I need to sew back together. You can go get some rest.” He looks me over. “Shower first, maybe.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Go,” Dante says to me and I wonder where he was. He’s the only one who doesn’t look like he’s come from battle. “I’ll stay with him until the doctor finishes.”
“I can—”
“Just go, Scarlett,” he grits out. The way he says my name, it’s not as hateful as when we’ve talked before. “I’ll stay with my brother.” No, not hateful. He sounds defeated.