"Luna, listen to me."
My throat was thick with tears, but I managed to say, "I'm listening."
"Luca and I are about two hours away, but we're coming as fast as we can. Okay? Just hang in there, and try to stop the bleeding. If you can find the cell key, he has medical supplies in the bathroom off his bedroom."
"Okay." I pulled his shirt away and checked the wounds, then pressed it against his stomach again. My hand was shaking.
"Luna."
The sharp tone of his voice as he said my name snapped me out of my panic. "Yeah?"
"Stay with him."
"Where the fuck am I supposed to go, Enzo?" I snapped.
"Fuck. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Just take care of him until we can get there."
Tristan's lips moved, but no sound came out.
My eyes on his face, I promised Enzo I would and dropped the phone on the floor. I heard him start to tell Luca what was going on right before he hung up. "Tristan?"
He didn't respond. I pulled the shirt away again, but there was so much blood smeared on his body I couldn't tell which cuts were the worst.
"I'll be right back." Jumping to my feet, I went into the bathroom and grabbed one of the soft, white towels he had in there for me, wetting one end.
When I came out, I accidentally kicked the drawing pad lying next to him with my bare foot. It slid to the side, revealing what was hiding beneath it.
Bending down, I picked it up. It was the picture of me and Logan. And there was blood on it.
I stared at it, not quite believing what I was seeing. He'd gone back to Gino's to get this picture for me. My eyes went back to Tristan, bleeding in the corner. Had Gino caught him? Had he done this?
"No…" I told him. "Oh, Tristan." The room blurred as my eyes filled with the tears I'd been trying so desperately to hold back. He'd gone back to Gino's, knowing it was a risk. Knowing how dangerous it was. But instead of killing him, Gino had done something far, far worse. "No, Tristan," I whispered.
Dropping the photo, I lowered myself to the floor beside him and, with the wet corner of the towel, started frantically wiping away the blood, thinking…what? That if I could only clean him up, it didn't really happen? Tears blurred my vision, and I couldn't see a damn thing.
"Get it off."
I sniffed and swiped at my eyes with the towel. Had he said something? "Tristan?" I searched his face, desperate to hear his voice one more time. His eyes were still staring straight ahead. Blood still seeped from the wounds on his torso, staining my hands as I pressed the towel over them.
"Get it off." His dead eyes found mine, and I almost cried out when I saw how lifeless they were. "Use the knife and get it off." His voice was raspy, like he'd been screaming.
What the hell had Gino done to him? "Get what off?"
He faded again, and his eyes slipped away from me. He was sitting right in front of me, and yet I'd never felt more alone.
"Tristan? Get what off? The blood?" With the knife? But that made no sense.
His upper lip lifted in disgust. "I can feel him. All over me. Get it off." His eyes found mine again, and this time my own flooded with tears when I saw the terror and pain inside of them.
He was showing me his pain.
My heart cracked inside my chest. I could barely manage to speak. "He's not here, Tristan. It's just me and you. We're in your cell. You're safe."
But his movements were frantic now as his hand felt around on the floor. "Where is it? Where the fuck is it?"
"Tristan, he's not here. You're okay."
"No. I can feel him. Touching me. Touching me everywhere." His voice broke as his chest rose and fell with frantic breaths. "He's touching me! Hurting me…" he trailed off.
