“He…” I growl hoarsely. “He… poisoned?—”
“I know,” Tulio admits grimly. He’s stopped on my other side, moving to the monitors and checking the readouts. “I know what I did. What I participated in for years, Mr. C. I can’t take it back, and I won’t insult you by asking for forgiveness.”
He meets my eyes, genuine remorse in his.
…or maybe I’m just too weak to see clearly.
“But what Icando is try to make it right,” he continues. “I was the only one who could save you after you were shot. I performed the surgery. Removed the bullet. It was lodged dangerously close to your heart—the damage from years of experimental treatments made the surgery more complicated, but...” He pauses, checking another monitor. “You’re stable. Against all odds, you’re going to survive this.”
I want to tell him to get the fuck out of my house. That I don’t want his help, don’t need his redemption. But Nevaeh’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
“He saved your life,” she whispers tearfully. “He’s been here for over twelve hours, monitoring you. Making sure you pulled through.”
Tulio finishes his examination and steps back. “Your vitals are strong. Stronger than they should be, considering everything. I’ll give you two some privacy.” He pauses at the door. “For what it’s worth, Mr. C… I’m sorry. Truly.”
Then he’s gone, and it’s just me and Nevaeh in our bedroom.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Even exhausted, even covered in blood and dirt, even with her hair falling out of a messy bun and shadows under her eyes, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Mia bella ballerina.
“You look like hell, mia bella,” I manage, my voice still rough but getting stronger. “Beautiful hell.”
A watery laugh escapes her. “You’re one to talk. You died twice on the operating table.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Don’t,” she mumbles. “Don’t joke about that. I thought… Cael, I thought I’d lost you. When you collapsed after shooting Nero, there was so much blood. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t?—”
Her sob interrupts her words, tears streaming down her face. She covers her mouth like she can hold in the sobs, but it’s no use.
I reach for her with my good arm, ignoring the achy pull of stitches in my chest.
“Come here,” I murmur. “Please, Nevi. I need to feel you.”
She climbs back onto the bed carefully, so carefully you’d think I was made of glass. Her arms wrap around me in thegentlest embrace, mindful of my injuries. I hold her as best I can, her wet tears soaking into my hospital gown.
“We survived,” I rasp, pressing my lips to her hair. “We fucking survived. All of it. Your parents, my family, Nero, and the Vorones. We’re still here.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, a small smile playing at her lips. A mischievous, almost giddy smile that makes me instantly suspicious.
“What?” I ask, unable to stop my own grin. “What’s that naughty smirk for, mia bella ballerina?”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a jagged brass key that glints in the room’s lighting.
“I kept it,” she says, her tone full of pride. “The whole time. Matteo, Ignazio, your father, Carmelo, my parents, Nero—everyone was looking for it. Fighting over it. Killing for it. And I had it the entire time and never gave it up. Even when I gave them the snow globe.”
I stare at the key, then at her face, taking in how beautiful and angelic she is with her large, dark eyes and soft lips and round nose. But she’s also the opposite of an angel too—she’s a little devil who fought and clawed her way to victory.
She outsmarted them all. Every single one of them.
My fierce, brilliant, deadly ballerina.
“You magnificent woman,” I breathe, pulling her closer despite the aching pain. “I love you more than life itself. More than anything in this fucked up world. You hear me? I love you, Nevi.”
Her smile widens as she leans in to press her forehead against mine. “I love you too, Cael. Even when your temper gets the best of you and you try to rip out your IV.”
I laugh despite how it hurts like hell. But I don’t give a shit.
