Chapter 16 Aurelia #2
Maybe most people wouldn’t prioritize a dog over themselves, but she was more than a dog to me.
She was one of us, making us a family of three.
I’d never had a dog before, but I’d gotten used to her so quickly, napping on the couch with her even though she was way too big to fit.
And the way Constantine loved her was the sweetest thing.
So I dropped the gun.
He moved over to me fast, grabbing me by the arm and shoving me forward like I would fight him the whole way.
He tugged me hard like he wanted to rip my shoulder out of the socket.
He flung me so hard that I fell to the floor.
I wanted to scream in terror, but I kept my mouth shut and bottled it inside.
Then I finally felt a surge of hope when I heard what one of his men said.
“Constantine is here.” He was one of four men who held an automatic rifle.
The man who’d thrown me didn’t seem displeased by that information.
He sauntered toward where I’d fallen in the corridor.
“Good. Tell him to come alone or his whore dies.” He continued to pace slowly, a mammoth of a man, muscles big and thick like Constantine’s.
Dressed in all black and laced-up boots, he paced across the rug.
I stayed on the floor, trying to be as invisible as possible.
When I looked back through the door, I saw Medusa limping toward me, still trying to get to me.
Tears flooded my eyes at the sight of her still trying.
I tightened my hand into a fist the way Constantine had done, trying to keep her alive and out of the fight. I mouthed, “Heel.”
She stopped again, lay flat, and rested her broken leg.
We just had to hold on a little longer . . . until Constantine got here.
He would get us out of this.
I knew he would.
The man continued to pace slowly, the men remained alert, and then after what felt like an eternity, the sound of quick footsteps grew louder.
I knew Constantine.
He rounded the corner, then came to a stop at the end of the corridor, surveying the scene—me on the floor, Medusa hurt, the four guys with guns who would shoot our brains out if we moved wrong, and him.
The asshole who wanted us dead.
I had no idea what thoughts passed through Constantine’s head, but he looked pissed.
Then he started down the corridor again, appearing unarmed, the only armor he wore his clothes and the muscle underneath.
I had no idea how he’d save us, but I believed he would.
The man who’d captured me stopped his pacing and stared him down as he approached. “You really think I’d start a civil war? You’re dumb like your brother. All that pussy turning your brains into scrambled eggs. Well, my boot turned his into scrambled eggs, I guess.”
Now I knew who he was—the Skull King.
Constantine kept his eyes on him, but he moved toward me.
“Whoa, slow down, Con.” He took a step and moved between us, blocking Constantine’s path.
Medusa gave a quiet whine as she looked at Constantine.
Constantine didn’t look at her. Didn’t seem to hear her. Then he made a fist and put it against his chest—silently telling me to be brave.
I lay still and tried not to cry.
Constantine only looked at the Skull King.
He showed no hint of distress, even though he must have been a wreck inside.
I’d seen a version of him that night when he killed Pierre and the others who’d tried to kill me.
But this version was different because he was an emperor who faced off against a king. “Name your price.”
The Skull King pulled out his gun and aimed it at me—all the while not taking his eyes off Constantine.
Constantine kept his closed fist to his chest, continued to stare down the man who put a gun to my head. “A bit unnecessary when I just asked you to name your price, Darius.”
He cocked the gun—just to be an asshole.
“My brother fucked your wife, and your response is to kill mine?” His voice rose, the anger booming down the hallway. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Here are my terms—accept them and she lives.”
Constantine continued his hard stare.
“And you also live. Because you’re right. You didn’t fuck my wife. But I still hate your face every time I look at it, so you go back on your word, and I will kill everyone you’ve ever known and loved. Understand me?”
He was utterly still, hand to his chest, eyes sharp. “Yes.”
“Rome is mine. This palace you call home is mine. The Roman Republic will lose its emperor and have a king instead, and you will not interfere with my reign. Your men either join me or retire permanently—”
“Done.”
Darius hesitated in obvious surprise.
I didn’t expect it either. Didn’t expect him to give up everything he loved . . . for me.
Darius continued to stare at him like he didn’t quite believe it.
“We’ll be gone by morning. You can have everything, and I’ll disappear.”
The stare-down from the Skull King was long and penetrative, like the two of them were in a poker match and one of them was bluffing.
“Well, that was easy.” It seemed to be over, but then he raised his gun again and pointed it at Medusa to shoot her.
“Except one more thing. Your little bitch bit me—”
With superhuman reflexes, Constantine jumped in the way of Medusa, and his body jerked back hard when the bullet struck him.
“Oh my god!” I shrieked and rushed to him. “Constantine—”
Darius grabbed me by the arm and flung me hard to the floor. He walked over to Constantine, whose body completely blocked Medusa, his shirt stained with blood from the bullet that seemed to have hit him in the shoulder. “You took a bullet for a dog?”
Constantine showed no sign of pain, held himself up on his uninjured arm.
“Are you fucked in the head?”
Constantine stared up at him, his breathing slightly elevated from the pain or the loss of blood.
“I agreed to your terms. We’ll grab our things and head straight to the airport.
” He slowly pushed himself to his feet, then stood tall, the blood dripping down the ink of his arm and to his fingertips.
Medusa got up behind him and started to limp toward him.
“You know I’m a man of my word, Darius.”
Darius returned his handgun to the back of his jeans, then nodded to his men. “You have three hours. My men will keep an eye on you until you’re done. All calls and texts are prohibited. If you try, you’ll all be shot—including your dog.”
I rushed to him and went straight for his arm, yanking up the sleeve to see the visible wound and the blood that continued to pour out of it. “We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
He yanked the sleeve down again. “I’m not worried about it.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“Been shot before. It’s fine.”
“What?”
He blew off my concern and grabbed me hard by the arm. “Are you okay?”
“I—I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” He’d thrown me on the floor twice, but that was nothing compared to what he could have done.
“But . . . Medusa tried to protect me. She bit him really good on the arm, and he threw her across the room and broke her leg.” I started to cry, remembering the thud her body had made when it smacked against the wall.
Constantine grimaced, like that knowledge really affected him.
He turned away from me to Medusa, where she stood balancing on her three paws so she didn’t have to put pressure on the fourth.
It was her right front leg. “Baby girl . . .” He knelt down to her, cupped her face in his hands, then kissed her forehead.
He rested his lips there for a long time.
“We’re gonna get you better, okay? We just have to get out of here first. Stay here until we’re ready.
” He kissed her again. “You did a good job protecting Aurelia.”
I watched him comfort his dog while he bled out from the bullet he’d taken for her. Watched him give all of himself to everyone. Watched him sacrifice his whole world for the two of us.
He rose to his feet again. “Let’s grab what we need and go.”
I stared at his bleeding arm and then the calmness in his eyes. It was the scariest moment of my life, but it seemed like nothing to him. But I knew deep inside he was devastated by the price he’d paid for my life. “Constantine—”
“We don’t have time.” He cut me down like he knew exactly what I would say. Like he could see the guilt written all over my face.
He stepped into the bedroom and then his bathroom. He found the first aid kit in the back of one of the cabinets, popped it open, and got to work on himself. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and watched his movements in the mirror as he dug out the bullet and dropped it into the sink.
I just watched in horror, knowing only experience could have made him so good at that.
“That’s why you have so many tattoos . .
. to hide the scars.” More blood came from the wound when the bullet was extracted, but he already had the needle ready.
Sutured himself up like it wasn’t his first time either.
He didn’t confirm what I said. Or maybe he hadn’t heard it because his mind was somewhere else.
Once the wound was sutured, he wrapped it in gauze and secured it in place. He left the bloody mess in the sink for Darius to deal with later.
I would have offered to help, but he seemed to have it under control.
Then he went into his closet, opened a bag, and shoved a couple things inside—some watches from his collection, a few guns, some of his clothes, a picture album he had on one of the shelves.
Most of my belongings were still in boxes, so I took only the things that mattered, like pictures of my mom, my cameras and my laptop, some of my clothes and shoes. Just the essentials because we could only carry so much. Everything else was left behind.
Constantine hooked his bag over one shoulder and then hooked mine over the other. He walked back to where we’d left Medusa, who lay there panting as she struggled to tolerate the pain in her broken leg.
This place had been an oasis for me, but now it was the site of destruction.
Constantine knelt down and helped Medusa upright on three of her legs. Then he scooped her up into his arms and cradled her to his chest, a dog who weighed over one hundred pounds. He carried her and the bags like it all weighed nothing.