Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Chapter Ten
Ava
Morning light streamed through the hospital window, casting a soft glow on Dante’s bruised and bandaged form. I gently removed the old bandages, my fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his warm skin. Dante winced, but his eyes never left mine, a faint smile playing at his lips despite the pain.
“You’re getting pretty good at this,” he teased, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His attempt to keep the mood light was endearing, but I could see the tension in his eyes, the unspoken worry for what lay ahead. I applied fresh bandages, my hands lingering a moment longer than necessary, my touch conveying what words couldn’t. The air between us crackled with an electric charge, an undercurrent of desire mingling with the tenderness of the moment.
“All done,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. Our eyes met, and the room seemed to shrink around us, leaving only the two of us and the unspoken emotions hanging thick in the air.
I moved to sit by his bedside, taking his hand in mine. The warmth of his skin against mine was a comfort, a reminder of the bond we’d forged through fire and fear. “Dante, I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice trembling with the weight of my words. I leaned in close, feeling his breath mingle with mine, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to bear.
“I love you,” I confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. “I never expected to feel this way, but I do. And it scares me because I know what I have to do.”
Dante’s eyes softened, and he squeezed my hand, his own feelings mirrored in his gaze. “I love you too, Ava,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve known it for a while now, even if I was too afraid to admit it.”
We shared a tender kiss, our lips brushing softly at first, then deepening as the intensity of our feelings overwhelmed us. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of us and the fierce, undeniable connection we shared. But reality intruded, pulling us back from the edge. I pulled away, my heart heavy with the knowledge of what I had to do. “Dante, I have to publish the exposé,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears in my eyes. “It’s my duty as a journalist. I can’t ignore the truth, no matter how much it hurts.”
Dante’s expression shifted, a mix of understanding and sadness clouding his features. “I know,” he said softly. “And I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. It’s one of the things I love about you, your integrity and your commitment to the truth.”
The gravity of the situation settled over us, but so did a sense of mutual respect and admiration. We knew the road ahead would be difficult, but we were determined to face it together. Needing a moment to clear my head, I stepped outside the hospital. The afternoon sun was bright, the city bustling with life. I stood there, taking in the sights and sounds, my mind a whirl of memories and emotions. The circus had been my home, if only for a little over a week; a place of mystery and danger, but also of unexpected love and connection. Dante had become more than just a subject of my investigation; he was the man I loved, the man who had shown me the strength and beauty of his world.
As I looked out over the city, I knew that publishing the exposé was the right thing to do. The truth needed to come out, no matter the cost. But I also knew that my love for Dante was real and powerful, and it would guide us through the storm that was sure to follow. Taking a deep breath, I turned back towards the hospital, ready to face whatever came next with Dante by my side. We would find a way to navigate this new reality, together.
I strode into the newsroom later that day, my heart pounding with a mix of determination and dread. The familiar hum of the office enveloped me, but today, everything felt different. Mark, my editor, spotted me from across the room and waved me over. His eyes were curious but kind, a glint of anticipation sparking in their depths.
“Got it?” he asked, his voice low, yet carrying the weight of the question.
“Yes,” I replied, handing over the thick folder filled with evidence and meticulously written accounts. My face was set with determination, masking the turmoil inside. Mark opened the folder, flipping through the pages, his expression shifting from curiosity to grim understanding.
“This is big, Ava,” he said, looking up at me. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” I said, my voice steady. “It needs to be published. People deserve to know the truth.”