Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Follow the light for me,” he demanded. “How are you feeling? Nauseated? Headache?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “But I’m fine. Venezio…” she said.
“I’ll get to him,” Salvatore said, brushing off her concerns as he reached for a package of gauze.
“No, really. Please. He’s been stabbed,” she said, looking a little glassy-eyed. “And his leg…”
“I got it,” I said to Salvatore, taking the gauze from his hand.
“Alright,” he said, brow lifting a bit, but he said nothing as he went over toward Venezio instead.
“I’m okay,” she insisted yet again.
“Shush,” I said, voice softer than I realized I was capable of as I broke open the gauze, then poured some antiseptic on it. “This might burn,” I warned her, noting how she grabbed the edge of the counter until her knuckles went white.
“I’m ready,” she assured me, but she let out a whimper as soon as the gauze moved across the cuts on her forehead. The blood washed away, I could see several gashes that unexpectedly had my stomach twisting.
“What happened?” I asked, voice low enough for only her to hear, despite being just a few feet away from the others. Miko was acting like a nurse’s aide to Salvatore as he made quick work of cleaning up Venezio.
“The door crashed open and woke me up,” she said. “I was sleeping, so I was too disoriented to realize anything was wrong until he was on top of me,” she said.
I swear my spit turned to fucking battery acid at that image.
Stuck in the memory, her hands moved off the edge of the counter, and rested on her thighs.
I backed up just enough to be able to look down.
And right there on the insides of her thighs were two big bruises setting in.
The image of him on top of her in the bed, his knees pinning her thighs to the mattress, and his hand moving up to close around her throat, then—judging by the scratches—dragging down the front of her tank top to expose her, made fire burn through my veins.
“And, ah, we fought. I almost got away, but he slammed my head into the window,” she said, wanting to rush past the whole bed part.
“She beat the shit out of him with a frying pan,” Venezio said, sounding proud despite them barely knowing each other. That said, it had to be pride I felt swelling my chest too.
“Good for you, honey,” Salvatore said.
I went back to her head, finishing up with the blood, then sliding some triple antibiotic across the gashes.
But I wasn’t done.
In a completely unnecessary move, I grabbed a Q-tip, globbed on some more triple, and started to slide it down the scratches on her chest.
Was it my imagination, or did her breathing get quicker and more shallow at the touch? Did her heart start hammering? Did a little shiver move through her?
“Got anything for him to wear?” Salvatore asked, spoiling the moment. “He’s gotta get this leg scanned,” he added as I forced myself to take a step away from Halle.
“Grab him a shirt,” I said to Miko, waving toward the loft where the primary bedroom was located.
Halle stayed perched on the island as Miko and Salvatore helped Venezio into one of my button-ups, so he didn’t have to lift his arms.
He looked like shit.
Face all cut and busted, barely able to move even with Salvatore and Miko to support him.
But he still stopped to look at Halle.
“Sorry I failed you tonight,” he said, and it was the first time I’d heard anything resembling emotion from him.
“Right. Because you totally stood a chance against four guys,” Halle said, rolling her eyes at him. “I’m Halle, by the way,” she said, giving him a small smile.
“Venezio,” he said, nodding.
“I’ll help get him in the car, and come back, so we can work out a plan,” Miko said, nodding his chin toward Halle.
Then I said something that I think shocked me more than anyone else in the room.
“She’s staying here from now on.”
CHAPTER TEN
Halle
He’d carried me in through the apartment so fast that I could barely even see it. It was just a blur of gray and black before I was taken into a bedroom, placed onto the bed with more delicacy than I would have thought possible, then left me there.
He’d even shut the door.
And it felt very much like a ‘you keep your ass right where I put you’ kind of thing.
I mean, I wasn’t complaining.
If nothing else, I was safe.
Also, I mean, it was the nicest room I’d ever been in in my entire life.
My entire apartment and half the neighbor across the hall’s apartment could fit in this one bedroom.
The walls were a dove gray.
The bedding was a thick linen in an off-white shade.
The bed and all the furnishings were a deep stain that was almost black.
There was a door half opened at the side of the room, and I could make out the corner of a shower.