64. Dante
DANTE
Dead. They are all dead men. My Belladonna is hurt, and I let it happen. I didn’t protect her. I didn’t even check to see if she was okay before I dragged her through my secret entrance to the basement and out the door that leads into the tunnel we just came out of.
I was on the phone with Angelo upstairs when the explosion went off, and I don’t know how many seconds or minutes it took me to find Rose lying on the ground downstairs because I was so disoriented from the attack.
The only word I could speak was her name, and I couldn’t tell if I was yelling it out loud or only in my head, but when I saw her at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving, I was prepared to take every last one of those men down with me.
No one, including myself, would be leaving that house alive if she was dead.
But then I saw the smallest breath and her chest rise and fall. I didn’t have time to think, just act.
I know Luca was alive when we left him, but I doubt he is now, and I won’t say that to Rose.
I’ve seen injuries like his before, and unless he gets immediate medical attention, his injuries are fatal.
I will have to deal with telling Rose that when I can get her to safety, and that means we need to go back to the city.
Angelo will already be sending out reinforcements, but they won’t get here in time.
“Rose, baby, I’m sorry, but I need to pop your shoulder back into the socket to help with the pain, okay?”
She gives me a small nod, which I take as permission, and I don’t give her a chance to hesitate before gripping her hand tightly and pulling with force.
Her scream of pain nearly brings me to my knees, but I have to stay in control for her sake.
She is not safe out here, and that is my only priority.
Rose has been silent since I reset her shoulder and got her in the car I kept hidden near the tunnel exit for circumstances just like this.
I thought she was sleeping when she didn’t immediately start asking questions in rapid-fire succession like she normally would or yelling at me or just…
anything. It’s not like her to be silent, but when I check on her from the corner of my eye as we drive toward the city, I find her staring out the window, unmoving. Maybe she is in shock?
She isn’t used to situations like we just experienced, especially having to leave Luca like we did, but I figured she would have something to say after everything.
I don’t want to push her, though, so I’ll let her silence remain and give her the space to process the events of the evening.
We will be back in the city soon, and she will get answers to questions she never knew to ask.