Chapter 40 Raven
RAVEN
Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds. That's how long Gio has been gone.
I pace the length of his absurdly large living room, my bare feet cold against his marble floor, the chill doing nothing to calm my thoughts. And while the Bonventi legacy surrounds me, all I can think about is whether he will return to me.
I twist my engagement ring, giving my hands something to do, to stop them from shaking. The diamond is obscenely large, full of a dangerous promise—just like the man who gave it to me.
I grab my phone from the coffee table again, checking for messages. Nothing. I've called him eight times. Each call went straight to voicemail.
"Breathe," I say to myself. "He's coming back. He has to."
I rub my raven tattoo. My mother's voice whispers in my head: Trust your instincts, my sweet girl.
Ugh, my instincts are screaming that something's wrong, but maybe that's just fear being louder.
Walking to the kitchen, I pour myself some water.
Is this what it means to love Giovanni Bonventi? This waiting. This fear. This terrible knowledge that he's out there right now, dealing death because of me.
No, no. He said after tonight it's over.
As I raise the glass for a sip, headlights sweep across the front entrance, cutting through the darkness outside. My heart leaps into my throat.
I set the glass down and run through the house, yanking open the front door and rushing down the steps.
Gio's car pulls to a stop in the circular driveway. The driver's door opens, and he emerges slowly, the security lights illuminating him in harsh white light.
My heart stops.
He's covered in blood, his clothes torn, dark stains splattered across his chest and arms. Blood runs down his left arm, dripping from his fingers onto the ground. His face is grim, exhausted, but his eyes light up when they find mine.
"Gio!" I rush forward, my voice breaking. "Oh my God, what happened? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he says, but I can hear the strain in his voice. "Just a scratch."
I slide under his good arm, supporting him despite his size. "A scratch? You're bleeding everywhere!"
"Don't worry." His lips press against my hair. "My doctor will be here soon. He'll patch me up."
I help him into the house, fighting the rising panic in my chest. "Living room or kitchen?"
"Kitchen," he says. "Better light."
I guide him to one of the kitchen chairs, easing him down. Up close, the damage is even worse. The makeshift bandage around his forearm is soaked with blood.
"You need to go to a hospital," I say, grabbing a clean dish towel and pressing it against his wound.
"No hospitals." His voice is firm. "Dr. Russo is discreet. He's coming. Don't worry."
I don't know what to do. My mind is going a million miles a second. I grab my water glass. "Drink this. You're probably dehydrated."
He gives me a strange look but listens to me. While he drinks, I gather more towels, a bowl of warm water, and the first-aid kit from under the sink. I gently clean his face, wiping away smears of blood that aren't his own. The thought makes my stomach turn, but I push it away.
"Tell me what happened," I say, trying not to focus on the terror that's been gripping me for hours.
Gio looks at me, his eyes intense. "It's over, Raven. They're dead."
I sit on the chair beside him, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "Both of them? Viktor and Mikhail?"
He nods, wincing as I dab at a cut on his cheekbone. "Ares took care of Mikhail. I handled Viktor personally." His voice drops. "He'll never threaten you again. I made sure of it."
I don't ask for details. I don't need to know exactly how Gio executed the man who tried to claim me as payment. The darkness in his eyes tells me enough.
"Your arm," I say instead, nodding at the blood-soaked bandage. "Where the fuck is your doctor?"
"Raven. Baby, relax. It's a through-and-through. Bullet missed the bone." He says it so casually, as if being shot is just a minor inconvenience rather than something that could have taken him from me forever.
"Jesus, Gio. Getting shot is a big deal." My voice rises in panic.
He captures my face with his good hand, forcing me to look at him. "I'm okay. I promise you. I've had worse."
That doesn't reassure me at all. But I can't overreact and lose my shit. I've got to stay as focused as I can, if not for me, for him—my future husband, my life.
"Okay… okay. So, what about repercussions?" I ask. "Won't the Russians just come after us now?"
Gio shakes his head. "Viktor was operating outside the organization here in Chicago.
The debt wasn't owed to them, but to him personally.
Since he's gone, that debt dies with him.
" He takes another sip of water. "We'll have to decide what to do with the Russians eventually, but that's a story for another time.
" His eyes soften as they meet mine. "You're safe, Raven. This is all over now."
Relief crashes over me in waves. I hadn't realized until this moment just how much fear I'd been carrying.
Unexpectedly, a laugh escapes my lips. "Crazy how much I want to be a part of your fucked-up world. If you promise to always protect me the way you have…" I take his hand, squeezing it gently. "I mean, what more could a girl want?"
Gio flashes a possessive smile, the look that first terrified me and now makes heat pool low in my belly. He pulls me closer, his lips brushing mine. "I swear to my dying day, I'll kill anyone who does you wrong."
"Okay, maybe not kill all the time," I laugh against his mouth. "But yeah... do you think we can focus on something fun now? Like our wedding?"
Gio grins, taking my hand and rubbing his thumb over my engagement ring. "Or baby names," he teases.
I roll my eyes, even as my heart skips a beat at the thought. "Well, I've got to get pregnant first."
He cups my face, wincing slightly with the movement. "You will."
Before I can respond, someone knocks at the door.
"That'll be Dr. Russo," Gio says.
"I'll let him in."
I open the door to find a gray-haired man with kind eyes and a serious expression, medical bag in hand. He doesn't seem surprised by the blood or the late hour. I wonder how often he's patched Gio up over the years.
"This way, please," I say, leading him to the kitchen.
Dr. Russo works efficiently, cutting away Gio's shirt and cleaning the wound. He confirms that the bullet didn't do any major damage. It'll require stitches but nothing serious. I sit beside Gio the entire time, holding his good hand, watching him barely flinch as the doctor works.
"Keep it clean, change the dressing twice a day," Dr. Russo instructs as he bandages Gio's arm. "No heavy lifting for at least a week."
Gio nods, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he'll ignore half of those instructions.
"I'll make sure he follows orders," I say firmly, earning an amused look from both men.
After the doctor leaves, I help Gio upstairs to the bedroom. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed while I find him clean clothes. Despite everything, despite the blood and violence of this night, I feel strangely at peace.
As I help him into a clean shirt, careful of his wounded arm, I realize I wouldn't have it any other way. My gallery is gone, my father is dead, and for the first time in years, I feel like I'm exactly where I belong.