I could have been shot.
I could have died.
“Did that hurt?”
My eyes snapped open to find Dr. Rachiele watching me closely, soiled rag pressed to my chest. I had no memory of making a sound, but I must have.
I shook my head.
I didn’t close my eyes again. I bottled up my rocky emotions and switched off the replay looping through my mind. I lay still as he worked.
“Good news,” he pulled back a notch and assessed the damages. “Only one needs stitches. The others have already stopped bleeding.”
I tried to smile, but I couldn’t bring myself to. He didn’t seem to notice anyway as he rose and moved to one of the dressers across the far wall.
The room wasn’t a normal room, I noted. It had all the required items to give the illusion, but it was more like a hospital room with a mechanical bed and sterile, itchy sheets. The cabinets and dressers seemed to hold medical equipment tucked neatly away and there were no carpets, despite the hall outside the room being fully furnished.
“Do you do this often?” I asked when Dr. Rachiele returned with a flat headed pair of scissors, tweezers and something in an oval packet.
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth, but he kept his attention on the task of threading a curved needle with the scissors. “Are you asking for references?”
A sound like a chuckle escaped me only for me to bite it back when the gash in my lip tugged. “You are about to run me through with a needle.”
His grin was prominent as he held up the needle in question. “I do it enough.”
Nothing more was said as he set to work putting me together again. The three tiny stitches at my chest and the one at my lip were done quickly and with an efficiency that made me think he did this a lot more than he was letting on. He checked the breaks in my fingers with a portable x-ray machine and slid a splint over each digit. I expected pain, but maybe I was too tired and numb to register it properly. All I felt by the time he pulled back was a deep, gnawing need to sleep.
“I’ll get you some Advil,” he said quietly once it was all done. “You can stay here to rest until you feel comfortable moving.”
I thanked him and watched as he slipped from the room without ever acknowledging the other two standing in the shadows.
“I need to call my family,” I murmured, acutely aware of the slur of exhaustion thickening the words.
“We can do that,” Nero said softly. “You should rest.”
“They must be so worried.” I yawned loudly.
“Go to sleep,” Davien ordered, digging his phone out.
I sighed, eyelids closing. “I’m sorry.”
Nero said something about talking about it later, but I was already out.
There was pain when I drifted back into consciousness. Pain and silence. The groggy part of my brain wondered why Aunt Victoria hadn’t shaken me awake to start the day. The other part wondered where Liana was. Even in the darkness, I could usually hear her quiet breathing. But it took one deep inhale to register the smells. Aunt Victoria loved her frankincense and myrrh incense. She lit a new stick every two hours. It filled the house all day. But it was lemon floor cleaner and antiseptic tangling with the thick scent of copper that greeted me.
I pried my eyelids apart and squinted at the unfamiliar walls with their mute, mint tone and the white ceilings. The confusion came and went quickly at the sight of the two flagging my bed.
Davien sat in a chair on my right, head resting on arms he’d folded on the mattress next to my other hip. I could just make out the part of his face not hidden in the crook of his elbow and the steady rise and fall of his shoulders through the soft material of his t-shirt. The taut skin along his bicep was warm under my touch, the muscles hard, but he remained still.
Nero sat on my other side, hip next to mine, face turned in the direction of the darkened window. He must have borrowed a top from Dr. Rachiele; this one wasn’t splattered with blood. His face and hands were scrubbed clean, except for the shredded patches of skin across his knuckles. The long fingers rested on the mattress between us, the nails neatly clipped. It never failed to amaze me how hands that were so gentle when they touched me could be so lethal when they needed to be. They were the hands of a killer.
I followed the limb up to the man himself, taking a moment to study him, to take in the tension in his jaw, the hard glint in his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t about cute bunnies. There was anger and malice there. It was the look of a man plotting death.
I reached for him. Setting my injured hand lightly over his. My attempts at distraction worked when he blinked and turned his face. Our eyes met and I gave his fingers a light squeeze. His hand turned under mine and our palms glided together with the seamless threading of our fingers. My knuckles were brushed first by the warmth of his breath then his lips.
“Hey,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”
I offered him a slight smile. “Better.” I glanced down at Davien’s dark head. My hand lifted and lightly brushed back the heavy strands tumbling over his brow. “How long has he been sleeping for?”
“Not sleeping,” came Davien’s gruff mumble. He pushed up, lifting a face streaked with lines and gritty with sleep. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned before focusing on me. “You’re awake.”
“You too,” I teased.
He captured my free hand. “Should I get the doc?”
I shook my head. “I think I’m ready to go, actually.”
“You’re not going anywhere until the doctor says so,” Nero interjected.
I frowned up at him. “My parents—”
“Can wait,” he cut in sharply. “The only thing that matters right now is you.”
“I’m fine!” Both men shot me dubious glowers. “I promise. Yes, I’m sore and my hands hurt, but staying here isn’t going to change that.”
“Well, even if we leave, you’re coming home with us,” Davien declared. “I mean it. You have a shit ton of explaining to do and I plan on hearing all of it.”
“Can I see my parents first?” I negotiated.
The two exchanged glances.
It was Nero who agreed gently, drawing my fingers to his lips again. “But afterwards, you’re getting your stuff and you’re coming home, agreed?”
Had he made such demand two months ago, I would have called him crazy; I wasn’t going to just move in with them. Now, the idea of being separated from them for even a minute felt like torture. Even still…
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
The two eyed each other again for what felt like the tenth time. I wondered if this was something they hadn’t discussed yet and were going along with it as it happened.
“Well, either you come home with us or we’re moving in with your parents. Which do you think would work better?” Davien teased.
“And we’re not asking,” Nero added.
I eyed one then the other, but both seemed so serious, so absolutely sure. “What about the rules?”
Nero sucked in a breath which was better than the frown Davien shot me.
“Do you honestly think the rules mean a damn thing to us anymore?” Davien said slowly. “If you had stayed and talked to us, we would have told you…” he broke off inexplicably and looked away.