I smile, giving him a quick, chaste kiss. “And I loveyou, you freak.”
He chuckles as he kisses me once more, then moves back to sit on the grey, cushioned chair that’s next to my bed. His eyes slowly scan the room, so I decide not to interrupt him.
Dorran looks at the pale walls, floor, and ceiling, and the wide sliding window on the other side of the room. He then glances at the heart monitor to my left that is displaying my heart rate, rhythm, and blood pressure, the pulse oximeter on my right index finger that’s measuring my oxygen saturation, and the IV catheter that is inserted into the back of my left hand. And then he studies the black ankle splint that the doctors put on me, and his shoulders start slumping in on themselves.
There’s a brief stage of silence between us, with only the ticking of the wall clock filling the void where words should be. When Dorran finally decides to meet my eyes, I notice that his expression is one of complete defeat.
“So, what did the asshole doctor say?” he asks.
I can’t help but laugh a little. “Well, I have a minor concussion, for one, so I’ve been asked to take things slow. They’re administering saline for hydration, and fentanyl for the pain through an IV. As for the bullet wound…” I faintly nod towards my right arm. “I’ve received a whooping five stitches for it, and Dr. Broome says he’s going to have to keep me in for at least a day to check my progress, etcetera.” Said bullet wound is currently hurting and tingling like a bitch, but I try not to let it take my attention off Dorran.
“Cigs…” His throat bobs as he swallows.
My own throat tightens, and I’m momentarily stunned when tears start sliding down Dorran’s beautiful face.
“Cigs, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, then gently places a hand under my right one, pressing his fingers to mine.
“Stop.” I squeeze his hand as I blink against the burning in my eyes. “I’m fine, Dor. I promise I’m fine.”
“Are you, though?” His jaw hardens as he once again looks at the machines around me. “Because this…” He gestures at the heart monitor with his free hand. “This doesnotseem fine to me, Cigs.”
“We knew what we were getting into when we agreed to take on this job,” I tell him. “Besides, it’s not like a high stakes mission such as ours doesn’t have any casualties. If anything, we should consider ourselves lucky for making it out alive, given the circumstance we’d been forced into by Fredrick and his men.”
“Lucky?” Dorran spits the word in obvious distaste. “I don’t understand how you could consider your injuries as luck. I…” He sniffs, then rubs both his hands over his face before shaking his head. “I could have fucking lost you,” he says, and a moment later, his chin trembles as more tears glimmer in his midnight-blue eyes. “I think I’ve reminded myself of this fact more than once tonight, and still, it continues to scare the shit out of me. The mere idea of it – of not being able to have you by my side anymore – it’sdaunting. I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist, Little Swan, because I would be absolutelynothingwithout you. You’re my beginning and my end, and you damn well know that.”
I quite literally forget how to breathe for a minute. Maybe it’s because in my head, I didn’t want to risk doing it, in case I accidentally missed any of the things he just said.
“If you take me down, I’m taking you to hell with me,” I whisper through my tears, then grin. “You’d told me that once.”
Dorran abandons the chair and comes to sit close to me on the bed again, his grin an infectious reprieve. “Sure did. And I mean it; I always have.”
I sniff and use the collar of my hospital gown to wipe the snot off my nose. “Well, then, if you aren’t afraid of dying, why would you give me shit for being the same?”
His brows crease as he looks at me. “Because I can’t imagineyouin that state, Cigs. Anything but that. Death doesn’t bother me, but only when it’sforme. You and the crew – I don’t even want to think about all of you being taken from me. Losing Jayce was a blow none of us expected, but if we lost more of us…” He swallows, averting his gaze from mine. “Makes me question if what we’re doing is worth it.”
I stare at him as the shock of his words registers. “Dor, come on.”
“I’m serious,” he states, facing me. “Alex, Varsha, and I haveFinesse, and you have your well-established YouTube career. Do we really need to keep doing what we do?”
His question is both a blow, and a splash of cold water. I refuse to think too much about it, though, and instead cup the side of his face. “Look at me.” Iknowhe didn’t mean what he just asked me, and it kills me that he’s had to consider the idea of the four of us not doing what truly makes us feel alive, only because a few mafia bosses thought being masochistic dickheads would be a proud accomplishment for them.
Dorran seems confused. “Iamlooking at y–”
“No. Fuckingreallylook at me,” I order.
He’s silent for a beat, and then he blinks before meeting my eyes.
“Now I want you to repeat what you just told me – without avoiding eye contact.”
His throat bobs. “Cigs, please.”
“Fuckingtellme, you asshole.”
The corners of his mouth turn down just a little as his forehead pinches. “I…We…” He runs the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. “Um, what we…”
I scoff. “That’s what I thought.” I let go of his face. “You know why you can’t get the words out? It’s because killing isn’t just a job for you; it is an extension of you, and without it, you’d be nothing but a shell of who you currently are.” I fist the collar of his shirt and tug him towards me. “I want you to get something engraved into that thick fucking skull of yours, once and for all: you and I, Dorran, we are made of blood so cold that it can rattle the verybonesof those who dare to cross us. So, while I appreciate you wanting to sacrifice such a massive part of yourself for me, I’m going to have to ask you not to. I’ll beg, too, if I have to.”
He briefly closes his eyes as he sighs, then reopens them and chuckles. “I guess it’s my fault for falling in love with someone who is twice as stubborn as I am.”
