62. Nero
NERO
Avibration pulls me into the unfortunate state of consciousness, faced with the ceiling of my father’s living room. I practically crawled here late last night when I couldn’t find any liquor in Zeno’s office, hiding to avoid going down the dark and tempting path of breaking sobriety.
For the organization and me, I couldn’t do it.
Lost to the grief of nameless emotions, I hardly recall driving here, let alone arriving. Padre was still at the wedding reception, and not wanting to be in the bed stained with memories of her, I passed out on the couch.
Z
Did your hate sex/make-up sex take you two to a warehouse?
Me
Are you still drunk?
Z
Ana. Lev tracked her phone to a warehouse. I ask again, what are you two doing there?
The clinging sleep evaporates for the sudden soul-crushing fear that has me gripping my phone tighter. I tap his name to call, opting for voice over the slow actions of texting that’ll only aggravate me.
As soon as the call is picked up, I demand, “What are you talking about?”
“Do you read? She ran after you last night, but no one’s heard from her in almost twelve hours.
Vanessa doesn’t want to leave Rome for our honeymoon until Ana answers her phone—which she hasn’t been doing despite the numerous attempts.
Lev called and said it’s located in a warehouse on the outskirts of Rome. ”
Like my arrival last night, I hardly recall leaving my father’s house until I’m in the front seat of my car, phone connecting to the vehicle to continue the call. Panic clogs my throat, but she needs me, so I swallow until words work again.
“She’s not with me. I didn’t see her after leaving. Which warehouse?”
“Shit…”
“Z,” I bark, agitation clenching the wheel while pointlessly driving down the road, praying I’m headed in the right direction. “Which. Warehouse?”
He rattles off the location as I reach the highway. I press the gas until every speed limit is broken without a fucking care compared to what Anastasia is doing in some warehouse.
“Vanessa’s freaking out. We haven’t gone to the jet yet. We’re on our way.”
“Drive fast.” I hang up to focus on the trip, speeding by cars and signs, hardly reading any of them until reaching the required turn-off to one of our warehouses.
Heart in my throat with fear, and in my hand ready to be crushed if a single hair on her head is harmed, I throw the car into Park beside the fresh tire tracks. Without a vehicle, there are way too many possibilities of what I’ll find inside—if she’s been taken or if she’s still here.
Unholstering my gun, I remove the safety and head for the half-open metal door, slowly peeking inside while raising the weapon—but lowering it at the sight of three bodies on the ground. All coated in blood, none of them moving.
It’s the middle one I rush to. The scrap of a woman who has so much strength inside her, she’s torn me open and made me a new man. Being strangled and having my limbs torn off would be gentler than the pain felt when rolling Anastasia onto her back.
Blonde hair dyed with as much red as her bridesmaid dress is stained with, and the straps are ripped off.
Her face is swollen black, blue, and red while a slice runs down her arm and breasts, her dress parted to reveal the gushing wound.
Her knuckles prove a fight well done, and a knife rests beside her.
“Fuck.” I tilt her head, pressing two fingers to her pulse, letting everything else shut off—the beat of my own heart, the deep-rooted echo of her agony, and every regret from last night—to listen for the proof she’ll be alright. “C’mon, Petrov. You can do this.”
A little knock to my fingertips pulls me back from the brink of my own death.
“You’ll be okay. You’re alive.” Palming her cheek, I brush aside the strands of hair that cling to her injuries, press a kiss to her forehead, and then turn my head to hear the gentlest intake of breath, using that little noise to seal the ache inside my chest. “You’ll be okay. Let’s get you out of here.”
Careful to move her, I slide my hands beneath her shoulders and knees. Blood transfers from her skin to my suit, but I’ll happily take it all—blood and injuries—if it could have protected her. If only I hadn’t left her last night. If she didn’t come after me, only to be fucking assaulted.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the ripping, icy tendrils of fault re-emerge after weeks of healing. No substance will make this better. Seeing her open her beautiful eyes again, hearing her curse at me, that’s what I need. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for tonight.
My second biggest regret is finding her long after she took care of her captors. The souls that’ll burn in hell for harming her. Tucking her closer, I stop beside one, rolling him onto his side until his face is recognizable.
“Fuck.”
She needs medical help, so no matter my hatred over their insubordination, I keep walking to the warehouse’s exit.
In my head and heart, the fact of last night won’t be silenced—stronger than even the craving for liquor—that she nearly died. My ballerina almost never danced again. My Petrov could have lost her fire. My cara mia would never be around so I could tell her how much I love her.
My grip on her tightens until the gentlest whimper drifts to my ears. My steps falter, needing every other noise gone in order to hear hers. The little breath she takes as she turns her face into my chest and destroys everything but the senses attuned to her.
“Ne…”
“I’m here. I have you. You’ll be alright.”
“Did I…” Her lashes flutter. “Win?”
Despite everything, a smirk tugs at my mouth because even injured, my fighter remains exactly that. “You did. You saved yourself, like usual. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you and sorry I wasn’t here. I need you to rest now, okay? Rest so I can get you help.”
Help. Home. Hospital. Doctor.
I don’t fucking know.
“I was co…coming…” She flinches with her next cough, hissing as her cut side presses into my shirt. “Hurts.”
“I know, cara mia. I’ll get you help.”
My silent prayers being answered, Zeno’s SUV speeds into the area, tires screeching over the dried marks. Two dead men and no vehicle, which means there were more here. Those logistics fade with her next staggered inhale, though. Once she’s looked after, I’ll go hunting.
“Ana!” Vanessa throws herself from the car, stopping short of touching her friend when I protectively draw the fragile woman closer to my chest. Like an animal, my chest vibrates with the instinct to defend Anastasia from everyone and everything.
She’s injured and is done caring for herself and needs someone else to be responsible for her. That someone is me.
Zeno comes up behind Vanessa, barely sparing each of us a glance before heading deeper into the warehouse to check the damage himself. Vanessa nudges me to the SUV, where she opens the back door and helps settle her friend.
Anastasia groans as she’s laid onto the backseat. Once inside the vehicle, I take her back into my arms and draw her close to my chest, cheek against my heart so she can hear for herself how she nearly killed me today, all without raising a hand.
Zeno returns and peels out, his phone dialling through the speakers.
Distantly, I hear him instructing Elio to bring a cleanup crew and detailing what he’s pieced together.
Then he calls one of our private doctors, directing him to the hospital because her injuries seem too severe for home care.
And finally, Lev, catching him up on what’s happened and telling him to go to the hospital.
After hanging up, he meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror. “She fought by herself, and none of us fuckin’ knew. They were our guys.”
“At least you learned who stole from you,” Vanessa offers, sliding her hand atop his over the wheel.
“I’d be happy if it remained a mystery if it meant sparing her from that.” He stretches until she’s in his view within the mirror. “She’s not doing well.”
You think I don’t know that? Keeping my eyes pinned to her face, her injuries, the way she’s dozing in and out, I spare him no attention.
I lost her months ago because of stupidity, but this is different. This isn’t the happy ending she deserves. Letting her go yesterday was so she could live her best life. I’d hear her name in passing, probably by the couple in the front, and all would be as well as it could be.
The kind of loss that nearly happened today would be permanent. It’d mean standing over her casket, knowing she’ll never dance again. She’d never bat those eyes before tossing me an insult. I’d never hear her voice again.
She’d be…gone.
Gone after hating me, and I’d spend the rest of my life regretting not leaving Anastasia alone and sparing us both this pain.
My pain would be how I love her with every fibre of my being.
“She single-handedly killed them both,” Zeno distantly reports, probably recounting what he found to Vanessa. “If it was anyone else, they may not have made it, but fuck, she didn’t hold back. I hate that she was kidnapped by our men at our wedding. She was taken, and none of us knew.”
“Z. Shut up.”
He meets my gaze, admonishment dying on his lips at whatever he finds.
After what feels like an endless drive, we finally reach the hospital.
The rest of her family is waiting by the curb, an anxious force as nearby nurses and medical staff warily watch.
Dimitri and Lev open the back door to take her from me.
I hand her over to climb out myself but immediately grab her back once standing.
I need to hold her. I need to keep her safe. Fuck everyone else.
A loud commotion fills the area, and suddenly, there’s a hospital bed on wheels being driven in front of me. Someone is waving their hands, gesturing to release her, but my focus remains on her eyes. I need her to open them first.
“Signore,” one snaps, clapping her hands to get my attention.
Zeno comes up beside me and rests his hand on my shoulder. “Let her go. They’re doing their jobs.” He turns to one of the nurses, giving her our on-call doctor’s name.
The nurses, surprisingly strong, push me aside and drive the bed through the wide doors. I let them because my ability to care about anything besides Anastasia’s health has waned.
Thin arms wrap around my waist. It’s the familiar hold of mini-Mancini trying to bring me back to earth. “She’ll be alright. You found her. You saved her.”
“She saved herself,” I respond, voice as distant as my heart is. A piece in her grip is being driven down the hallway and away from me.
Lev moves to follow. “I’m family. I’ll see what I can find out.”
I trail him, uncaring that I’m not technically allowed to. She’s mine, dammit, and I’ll be there for her through this. Zeno follows too, mumbling about never listening or something.
Halfway there, we spot the Cosa Nostra doctor rushing through the halls. I catch up, gripping his shoulder to whirl him around. “I’m going to start digging a grave. If she dies, it’ll be marked as yours. Take that as a promise.”
He barely spares the warning attention. Having worked with us, and Giovanni prior to Zeno, he’s heard every version of a threat under the sun.
Zeno catches up and shields me from following Lev, who’s walking beside the doctor and Ana. “There’s nothing more to do until he checks her. Besides, you should clean up. You’re a mess in more ways than one.”
“You’d be too if it was Vanessa.”
“Never said I wouldn’t be.” He squeezes my shoulder, grimacing.
“We also have work to do. Those two weren’t doing it alone, and I’d prefer not to wait until she’s conscious to get the information.
By then, we might be too late. Elio messaged from the warehouse.
He’s collected their phones to see if there’s a contact to track. ”
“I don’t care about anything but her.” Desperation seeps into my tone. My body sways like I didn’t sleep at all last night. Except I do care. Anyone who harmed her will be on a fast track to Hell, but until I see bright blue eyes without pain, I truly can’t care.
“You do and you will. I want you on this, Nero. That pain you feel? That’s what I need. For her.”
“For her.”
He taps my arm before nudging me towards the doors where everyone else waits. “Lev will call with news. Today’s certainly a day that calls for a stiff drink, don’t you think?”
Normally, yes, but that craving isn’t present. Even the remorse felt when finding her, knowing she got taken when trying to come after me—guilt stronger than any ever felt for him—isn’t enough to push me off the wagon.
“No,” I reply softly. “As long as she gets better, she’s the only fix I crave.”