6

Autumn

A nurse. A graduate from med school. Yet here I was, shaking like a leaf as I watched Dante's blood spread like spilled ink over his once white top. I hated blood. I always had. To me, it didn’t just mean pain. It meant death. It meant time was running out. That someone’s story was about to end. “Just… just take a deep breath, okay?” I stammered, feigning calmness despite my heart thumping hard in fear. “I'm going to try and stop the bleeding.”

Dante seemed unusually calm despite our situation. The beaded sweats dripping down his forehead to his lips were the only indication that he was in pain. He simply grunted in agreement as I tore a part of my skirt off, before pressing it into his side. It quickly sucked up the red liquid. This was not enough to stop the flow. Tears suddenly filled my eyes as I pressed hard while trying not to think of the possibility of us dying. It would be funny that I die with my enemy. I hated Dante, but I never wished him death.

“You’re shaking,” he said in a hoarse voice as his lips curled into a lazy smirk. “That’s not very nurse-like, Cara mia.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. Was he joking right now? He was about to die! And how the hell did he know I was a nurse? The questions ran through my head but the answers could wait. I returned to the present, increasing pressure on the wound primarily out of anger.

“I’m trying to keep you alive!” I snapped at him, annoyed at how calm he was with bullets flying. It was useless to keep pressing on the wound with the already soaked cloth. “You're losing too much blood—”

“I’ve lost worse,” he murmured, in a dry tone. As if mocking me for forgetting the monster he was. “I once had a blade stuck in my spine. Another time I had a bullet lodged in my ribs. One other time it was—”

“Please just… stop.” I was pissed yet awed that we were arguing right now. He still had the strength to talk about escaping death's whiskers like it was an accomplishment while looking smug. What sort of family did my mum force me into?! “We need to get out of here.” I gritted out.

But a range of gunshots fired close to our hiding place, interrupting my idea of a plan. The next thing I felt was a hard surface and the scent of musk and mint as Dante pulled me over his chest in an attempt to protect me from the shards of shattered glass that the bullet hit. I held my breath as I looked down, realizing my hand was pressing on his wound directly. He didn't even flinch in pain. Was this guy human? As if to answer my question, I looked up at him to find him grinning. His pupils were dilated. The mad man was enjoying this.

“You are insane,” I whispered in between my loud breaths.

“Probably,” he said in his low and detached voice. The gunshots grew louder and closer to where we were.

I could hear shouts in a language I could not understand. But it was enough to make me understand that the number of assailants had increased.

“They're more now,” I whispered in horror, wide-eyed. So many people here to take us down?

Dante didn’t answer. His body stiffened beneath mine, and I could practically feel the gears in his brain turning. His gaze turned dark and calculating. Then suddenly the entire chaos stopped. There was a still silence and it unnerved me. I was still trying to make sense of what was happening when I felt something cold press against the back of my skull.

“Jesus Christ!” I screamed without control. My blood had turned to ice. I was sure that it was a gun resting on my skull. I could vaguely hear my pulse pounding in my ears.

“Put it down,” Dante’s voice said coldly. He could see whoever was pointing a gun at me since my face was still tucked in his chest. His tone was sharp and deadly calm that even I shivered in fear. “Unless you want to paint this room with your brain matter.”

The pressure of the gun eased from my head. But I didn't move. My eyes remained locked on Dante’s face.

“My…my apologies sir.” The voice behind me piped up. I turned around to come face to face with one of the guards. He looked enraged as he glared at me before walking off. What the hell…what did I do?

Just then, without warning, Dante shoved me off his body. I gasped, landing on my knees with a wince. “What the fuck—”

He didn’t even look at me. His face was set in the cold, emotionless mask I had seen before. He was back to being the infuriating, unpredictable asshole I knew him as. I watched as he stood, swaying slightly as his hand held on to his side. Blood continued to seep through his shirt. One of his men rushed to him, helping support his weight as they made their way out of the room.

“Where is Dominic?” He asked.

“He's holding on to the captive, master.” The man supporting him explained and he grunted in response.

He still hadn’t said a word to me. Fine. If he wanted to act like a jerk, that was his problem. But I wasn’t going to owe him anything.

I scrambled to my feet, brushing off glass from my skirt, and followed him down the corridor. My voice was firm despite the shakiness inside me. “You protected me back there. I don’t like owing people. Especially not you. So let’s just get this over with.”

He didn’t respond. They led him back into his room that still had the scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air. He collapsed onto the bed with a quiet sigh. I didn’t wait for permission. I spotted the sleek, black first-aid kit on the dresser and grabbed it, snapping it open and getting to work immediately.

“Lie still,” I commanded flatly, getting ready to act crazy if he didn't. But to my surprise, he obeyed.

Carefully, I peeled the blood-soaked fabric away and inspected the wound. The bullet had not gone too deep. It had lodged itself under the muscle, but hadn’t gone through any vital organs. Lucky bastard. He watched me in silence as I cleaned the area, sterilized the tools, and carefully extracted the bullet with the forceps. I dropped it into a metal tray and finally broke the silence.

“You should’ve passed out by now,” I muttered under my breath. “What are you made of, stone?”

Without waiting for a response, I continued with suturing the wound. His eyes never left my face. When I was done, I pressed a fresh bandage into place and stripped off my gloves, tossing them aside.

“Done,” I announced, stepping back. “Try not to get shot again. I’m not wasting any more of my skirts patching you up.”

He leaned his head back, eyes half-lidded, like he was sleepy but that unsettling smirk found its way back onto his face.

“You did well,” he said quietly. “You’re not completely useless after all.”

I wanted to say something sharp to refute him but he continued, interrupting me.

“Just so you know. You’ll never leave this house again.”

“What?” I stared at him, stunned.

“You heard me,”