Chapter 26
DANTE
Light. Too bright. Too fucking much.
I try to turn away and my body locks up. My throat is raw, stripped, like someone took sandpaper to the inside of it. My ribs ache with every breath. My skull throbs in time with my pulse, pressure building behind my eyes until they water.
But there’s a thread. A lifeline cutting through the wreckage.
A hand in mine. Small. Warm. Fingers wrapped around my palm like letting go isn’t an option. Like she’s been holding on for hours. Days. However long I’ve been wherever I am.
I know those fingers. Know the shape of them.
Tesoro.
The word tears loose before anything else. Before her name. Before the pain. Involuntary. A reflex I couldn’t stop if I tried.
Cazzo. Even thinking costs me.
Cassia.
I force my eyes open.
She’s there. Right there. Sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, hunched forward, her forehead resting on our joined hands. Hair tangled. Mascara smeared beneath her eyes in dark half-moons. Still wearing the dress from dinner, the dark fabric wrinkled, the hem stained with blood.
She hasn’t slept. That much is written across every inch of her.
My chest seizes. Wrenches apart. I don’t give it permission.
“Hi.” Broken. A whisper at best.
Her head snaps up. Her eyes find mine. Red-rimmed. Wet. Her lips part and her whole face crumbles.
“Hi.” Her voice cracks on the single syllable.
We stare at each other.
She’s here. She stayed.
“You scared me.” She says it like an accusation. Like I did it on purpose.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“Okay.”
She laughs. Or sobs. Her shoulders jerk, her hand flies to her mouth, and the sound that comes out is wrecked. Raw.
Then she’s moving. Leaning forward. Pressing her forehead to my chest, and I feel her shoulders shake. Feel the dampness of tears soaking through the thin gown they’ve put me in.
Cristo.
I want to hold her. Want to wrap my arms around her and pull her close. My arms won’t listen. Dead weight pinned to the mattress.
I fight it. Grind my teeth until my jaw screams. Force my hand up one agonizing inch at a time. Every scrap of strength in this hollowed-out body poured into one motion.
My hand finds her hair. Rests there. Fingers tangling in the mess of it.
“Tesoro.” The word scrapes out like glass. “I’m here.”
A pause. Her shoulders still shaking.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
She cries harder. Her fist curls in the fabric over my chest, knuckles white, holding on like I might disappear.
Dio. I’d burn the world down before I let anyone make her cry like this again.
“I thought I lost you.” Her voice breaks on the last word.
“You didn’t.”
“I never told you.” Her words are muffled against my chest. “I never said it and you were dying and I thought I’d never get to say it.”
My heart kicks. Weak but insistent. Even wrecked, my body knows what she means before my mind catches up.
“Cassia.”
She looks up. Tears streaming. Face blotchy.
Bella. Fuck.
So goddamn beautiful it hurts worse than the poison.
“I’m here. Whatever you need to tell me. I’m here.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Shakes her head.
“Later. When you’re stronger.” She swallows. “Just stay alive. That’s all I need right now. Just stay alive.”
Cristo. Even thinking hurts.
The door opens. Footsteps. Gia.
I recognize her walk before I see her face. Quick, efficient, purpose in every step. She appears at the side of the bed. Checks the monitor. Her hands are steady but her jaw is tight. Her eyes are glassy.
“Welcome back.” The professional voice. Doctor mode. But it wavers at the edges.
“How bad?”
She hesitates.
“Bad. You were twenty minutes from cardiac arrest when I started treatment.” She adjusts the IV. “But you’re stubborn. Always have been.”
“What happened?”
Gia glances at Cassia. A look passes between them. A conversation I’m not part of.
“Later.” Firm. “You need to rest. Let your body recover. We’ll debrief when you’re stronger.”
Every muscle in my body screams to argue. To demand answers. The Don needs to know what threat put him in this bed, who did this, what’s been done about it.
Cazzo. I can’t even sit up.
But the exhaustion drags me under. My eyes are closing. I can’t fight it.
“Romano.”
The name surfaces through the fog.
Cassia’s hand tightens on mine.
“It’s handled.” Quiet. Certain. “Everything is handled. Just rest.”
Handled.
That means Renzo. Means blood. Means the kind of justice that happens in basements.
Good.
I let the darkness take me.
The last thing I feel is her hand in mine. Small. Warm. Not letting go.
The last thing I hear is her voice against the beeping of machines.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I sleep.