A steady beep sounds in my ears. Lights flash behind my closed eyelids. I try to lift my hand but fail.
No.
Not the trunk.
Panic surfaces and with it, pain.
So much pain.
“Tatiana.”
A soft whisper from a deep, gravelly voice. A gentle touch on my arm.
“Tatiana, darling.” A calloused fingertip traces my knuckles. “Can you hear me?”
I fight against the pull that keeps me on the edge of consciousness. It feels as if my eyelids are glued together. It’s difficult to open them.
When I finally manage, I’m met by stark white walls and a curtainless window.
A hospital.
I have a pipe in my nose and an IV in my arm.
My pulse spikes.
“Hush, darling. You’re going to be fine.”
I turn my face toward the sound of that voice.
Dante sits next to the bed, clutching my hand in his. Stubble darkens his jaw, and blueish circles mar his eyes. His jacket and shirt are crumpled. The disheveled state of his dark-blond hair tells me he’s worked his fingers through the strands repeatedly.
“Dante?” I croak.
“I’m here, darling.” He sweeps a hand over my hair, the gesture tender and careful. “How do you feel? Do you need more pain meds?”
It all comes back to me then—the church, the necklace, and the man who shot me.
Dante studies me closely, his expression concerned. “I’ll get the doctor.”
“Wait.” I tighten my hand on his. “Our attacker…” Swallowing away the sandpapery dryness of my throat, I moisten my lips with my tongue. “What happened?”
Shortly after Dante carried me from the church, I passed out. I just remember him calling an ambulance and shouting at them to hurry up.
Dante stares at me with that intense gaze that has the ability to pierce my soul. “This time, you were lucky. The bullet lodged in your right kidney. The surgeon had to remove the kidney, but he assured me that you can lead a perfectly normal and healthy life with your remaining one.” His throat moves as he swallows. “The operation lasted six hours. Recovery will take a few months, but I’ll be with you every minute of each day. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
I hear the facts, but they don’t sink in. They don’t affect me, not yet. All I can think about is… “Noah.”
“You’re still in the ICU. As soon as the doctor says you’re stable, I can bring him for a visit.”
“Is he all right?”
Dante’s eyes cloud over. “He’s fine. He just misses you.” Bringing my hand to his mouth, he kisses my palm. “Fuck, Tatiana. For a minute back there, outside that church, I thought—” His expression hardens. “I couldn’t lose you.”
His clothes aren’t stained with my blood, so he must’ve changed.
“What did you tell the police?” Because they would’ve asked questions if he brought me in with a gunshot wound.
“That we got robbed in the church, that you…” He clenches his jaw. “That you got shot and that the attacker took off with your engagement ring and the cash I had on me.”
