It’s as if I’ve been injected with a shot of adrenaline.
Despite the pain and the protest of my ribs I sit upwards in the bed in which I recognize isn’t ours but someone else’s.
The familiarity of the room and the fluorescent lighting tells me we’re at Constantine and Carina’s home.
Down by my side curled in a fetal position, soundly sleeping is my wife.
My wife.
My heart skips a beat as I look at her.
Reverently I trace the outline of her face before I lay my hand against her throat. Even in her sleep she recognizes me. She presses closer as her pulse thrums wildly beneath my fingertips.
I feared I would never experience this again.
Emotion suffocates me.
I lick my dry and busted lips. On a croak I call out her name in hopes she’ll wake. I’d give anything to see her sky blue eyes shining with love. “Imogen.”
She stirs slightly. A small smile graces her lips.
“La mia gazzella.” It’s barely above a whisper but I know she hears me.
Her lashes flutter as she wakes from her slumber. Then, with wide eyes she stares at me as if her eyes are deceiving her.
“Rico,” she says breathlessly. Tears shimmer in her eyes, making them shine like precious jewels. “You’re awake.”
I remove my hand from her throat to softly stroke the apple of her cheek. She leans into my touch. “Come here,” I coax softly.
“But you’re injured,” she argues weakly.
“There is no amount of pain greater than you not in my arms. Come here.” With monumental effort I lift my arm and she gingerly tucks in beside me. The warmth of her seeps into me. And everything feels right once more. Nothing is missing.
“I’m so sorry for what happened to you, shadow.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t apologize. None of it was your doing. I’ll get my revenge soon and so will you.”
“About that. . .” Her voice falls off with uncertainty. I tip her chin up to read her better. “Revenge won’t be necessary.”
“What happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I remember feeling as if death was coming for me. And I heard your voice and couldn’t fathom how the gods could be so cruel. You promised Kirill something and then everything for me slipped.” I try not to berate myself as I can’t recall whathappened. I loathe feeling helpless. Even worse, I absolutely despise it when it’s my own mind turning itself against me.
“Kirill helped us escape,” she tells me.
I raise a brow. “At a cost I assume.”
“I promised him Zhen’s location.”
For a moment I believe my ears have deceived me. The very same order I was specifically given to not disobey. The very same piece of information I didn’t divulge out of respect and loyalty for my Don and Donna. A rule I followed even if it had meant my death.
My brain can’t comprehend how Imogen went against it.
Not that I’m not grateful. Of course I am. She fucking saved my life. But my mind is taking the extra time to process how a rule can be broken so easily.
“You’re not saying anything,” she mumbles nervously.
