Her eyes are glossy, staring at me with barely any recognition. The vision I'd had before has suddenly become reality.
"Why?" I croak, the notion that she'd taken a bullet meant for me almost unfathomable.
She doesn't answer; even the few whimpers of pain from before are now muted.
I brush my hand over her already glistening forehead, and anuncomfortable weight settles in my chest. My other hand comes away covered in blood—her blood.
And I don't like it.
"Shh, I've got you." I continue to apply pressure to her wound, all the while barking commands to my driver.
We need a doctor. Fast.
The bullet seems to have hit her shoulder, and since there's no exit wound, it's still inside. That means I need someone to operate on her.
Fuck!
There are also those men, and if their attempts on my life so far are any indication, they won't stop. I have the option of taking her to mypalazzoin Gozo, but I fear she won't make it that far. No… that's not an option.
Making a few phone calls, I get a surgeon to meet us at another port, a boat ready to go. Thepalazzois themostsecure location right now.
I rarely care if anyone lives or dies, but as I look at the tiny form in my arms, already pale from blood loss, I can't imagineherdying.
"You can't die on me," I command, even though she can't hear me. But if she doesn't listen, there will be hell to pay.
I'm barely breathing, my heart in my throat as we make our way toward the other part of the island. When we finally stop, I kick open the door and, holding tight to Allegra, dash toward the waiting vessel.
The moment I step on board, I head directly to a room downstairs. Shoving everything off a table, I carefully lay her on it.
She moans softly, and I swallow hard, almost as if I can feel her pain. But I try to banish everything from my mind. I need to act fast.
Turning around, I prepare a big bowl of water, wet a rag, and drag it over her wound to soak up the blood.
"Where is the fucking surgeon?" I yell at a man waiting outside the door.
"He'll be here soon."
With one hand, I keep pressure on the wound, while with the other I check her pulse.
"Little tigress, if you dare leave me, I'll find you in the afterlife and torment you forever. You have my word."
Her small face, weary from pain, stares back at me, no answer forthcoming.
It feels like an eternity passes before the doctor finally shows up and the boat is up and running. He asks me to step aside and starts assessing his patient.
"I need to remove the bullet. It seems to be lodged inside," he comments methodically, his eyes surveying Allegra's frail body. "She's small. Probably severely underweight."
"Is that going to be an issue?"
"It depends. It might slow down her recovery.Ifher body survives."
"What do you mean,if?Ifyou want to leave with your life, I suggest you makesureshe survives." I raise an eyebrow at him, already loading the gun in my hand. The doctor gulps and slowly nods.
Turning his attention toward Allegra, he administers an anesthetic. Then, he takes out a pair of scissors from his case and starts cutting at her shirt.
I tense, and before I know it, my fingers wrap around his hand, stopping his advance.
"She stays clothed."
