Page 176 of Bleed with Me

“You don’t say, genius!” I yelled, throwing my arms in the air. I wasn’t scared. I was fucking horrified. Considering the environment I grew up in, it was a huge achievement. “You’re holding my father hostage! Of course I’m scared.”

“No.” He shook his head slowly, focusing on the road. “You’re scared of me.”

I looked at him, really looked. The man behind the steering wheel was still the man I was crazy obsessed with. The same eyes. The same voice. The same hands. But somewhere between our last argument and this car, he’d become someone I didn’t entirely recognize.

Twice, I opened my mouth, searching for something to say. However, every word died before it reached my tongue. So I stayed silent for the entire drive home, planning to keep my mouth shut until I understood what I was feeling.

“I’m going to get Aryna from Zyon’s house,” Dorian announced an hour later when I got out of the shower. “There’s food in the kitchen.” He played with his car keys, giving me a hesitant glance. “Is it okay to bring her here, or should I take her to my apartment in the city?”

“Now you ask what I think about your actions?” I dried my wet hair with a towel, avoiding looking at him.

“City it is,” he mumbled, turning on his heels. The quiet disappointment in his voice hurt more than another argument would’ve.

“Where is my dad?” I shouted behind him, running out of the bedroom. He stopped halfway down the stairs, his expression empty.

“Don’t worry. He’s alive.”

With that said, he disappeared, leaving me angry and confused.

Well, angry was an understatement. I was fucking furious. At Dorian, at my father, even at myself. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the marble floor soaked with blood. I heard gunshots echoing through the mansion. Then, just as quickly, another memory replaced it.

Dorian blowing the doors apart, finding me before the dust settled. In the middle of all that chaos, all that gunfire and screaming, I never doubted who he came for. Until I saw him, I didn’t realize how alone I felt. The fear didn’t disappear. The guns were still there. But I knew the nightmare was over because he came.

The realization hit me harder than the explosion that shattered the doors. Somewhere deep inside me, a part of me that spent years expecting to be left behind finally believed someone would always come back for me. It was as if Satan himself had sent him to save me.

A frustrated groan escaped me. Dorian had every reason to storm into that house and punish the people who took me. He had every reason to lose his mind. If someone hurt him… A red haze colored my vision, and my stomach boiled with sudden, all-consuming fire. I would’ve burned the whole city down.

The truth settled heavily in my chest. I understood him. God help me, I understood every single decision he made. And it scared the crap out of me. Because if I could justify this, what did it say about me?

A slow exhale escaped my lips as the marriage certificate flashed through my mind. Despite everything I did to force Dorian to be mine, he signed it. He made me his wife in front of the world. He chose me. He chose us.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. A broken laugh tore out of me, dissolving into a shaky breath.

How had my life come to this?

I only wanted a husband to keep me safe from Sonny.

“Fuck!” I yelled, driving my fist into the mattress. The word cut through the silence, but didn’t erase the fight raging inside me. I wanted to scream and punch more, just to ease the pressure on my chest, but then my eyes drifted toward the small backpack left in the corner. Pink, covered in tiny butterflies. A stuffed, worn-out rabbit peeked out through the half-open zipper.

My heart clenched painfully. I knew nothing about the girl Dorian had adopted. He mentioned the name Aryna, but what about her story?

If she was in a system, someone had already abandoned her. Maybe her parents died, maybe they just didn’t love her enough to stay. Whatever the reason, she lost her home once, and now she was caught in the middle of the fight that had nothing to do with her, just because two stubborn adults were too consumed by themselves to speak honestly.

Of course, Dorian actually asked. And what did I do? I punished him. Not because of the girl. The girl was never the main problem. I did it because I was angry, because seeing my father bleed frightened me.

Sighing heavily, I reached for my phone, neatly placed on the nightstand where Dorian put it. My thumbs hovered over the screen for several long seconds before I finally typed.

Nina: Bring her home.

I stared at the message, hesitating. It wasn’t forgiveness or surrender. I was still hurt and determined to get answers about whatever shit my father was drowning in. But that little girl deserved a home, and despite everything that happened today, so did we.

I pressed Send.

-70-

Dorian

The text message caught me completely unprepared. I pushed the pain of Nina’s rejection of Aryna to the deepest corner of my chaotic brain, refusing to deal with it while I was at Zyon’s house. But of course, Valeria immediately noticed I wasn’t myself. I didn’t smile enough, or so she said.