The doctor wants me on bed rest for another week, but I've never been good at following orders.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, gritting my teeth against the stabbing pain in my chest.
The room spins, but I push through it. One step. Another.
The IV line pulls taut, and I yank it out without hesitation.
Pain is temporary.
Whatever's keeping Katerina away feels much more permanent.
I make it to the hallway before one of the guards spots me.
"Mr. Dante, you shouldn't be?—"
"Where is Katerina?" I demand.
He looks confused. "Ms. Petrov? In her quarters, I believe."
“The cottage?” Surely, Alessandro hasn’t let her back there. Not yet.
“No sir. She and the boy have several rooms along the east wing.”
So not even in my room anymore.
That should tell me all I need to know, but I’m a glutton for punishment, so I push past him, using the wall for support.
Each step sends fire through my body, but I keep moving.
It takes fucking forever, but finally, I reach her door.
I don't knock.
I don't have the strength for courtesy.
I turn the knob and push, the door slamming open.
Katerina jumps when I enter, her eyes widening in shock. "Luca! What are you doing out of bed?" She rises as if she’s going to help me but then stops. She stays in place, keeping her distance.
"You tell me," I manage, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "You haven't been to see. Are you hoping I’ll die?"
Her eyes flash open wide again. “What? No. It’s just… you need rest. I didn't want to disturb you."
"Bullshit."
Her brow furrows in indignation. "Excuse me?"
"Something's wrong. Tell me."
"Nothing's wrong. You should go back to bed before you tear your stitches."
The clinical detachment in her voice feels like another bullet wound.
This isn't the woman that I’ve risked everything for.
Who touched me.
Who begged me not to die on the floor of Maksim’s basement.
