Chapter 6

ELIAS

Two days had passed, and yet, I couldn’t get the boy out of my head.

“You’ve been restless lately,” Cathan said from his seat in my office. “Anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Nothing to concern yourself about,” I replied. “Just the unfortunate incident that led me to this.” I pointed at my wound to emphasize my point.

“Don,” Cathan said with a raised brow, a question in his eyes.

I released a heavy sigh. “It’s probably the aftershocks of the injury,” I said. I turned away, and faced the sprawling skyline of the city from the floor to ceiling windows, a cigar in my mouth.

Cathan got up and snipped the end with the cigar cutter.

“I heard from a little bird that there was a boy,” he said, as he lit the end of the cigar.

I froze.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “There was a boy. And what does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” he said, backing up and holding his palm out. “Was just asking.”

I looked at him for a moment and then just shook my head, not in the mood for his bullshit.

“Just drop it, Cathan. We have more important things to focus on.”

“No problem.” I turned to leave the room but Cathan stopped me. “Be careful Don.”

All I gave was a nod.

-------

I went back to the hospital.

Behind Cathan’s back of course.

Even though I held all the power between us, Cathan never hesitated to make his displeasure known, especially when I was reckless.

And walking around in the open, without security? Reckless was an understatement.

The moment I arrived, the hospital’s pitiful state hit me like a punch to the gut.

Peeling paint, flickering fluorescent lights, the faint but distinct odor of bleach mixed with human despair.

He worked here.

The thought festered in my mind, a cancerous thing I didn’t want but couldn’t cut out.

I wasn’t meant to care. But unfortunately, I did. And I made a promise to myself to never feel this way again about anyone.

A painful reminder of the last time, I had dared to feel anything for someone clawed its way up the depths of my memory. I began to turn my back to the hospital doors—better to leave before I made a bigger fool of myself.

But then a full head of sun-kissed curls caught my eye and my body froze before my mind could process what I did.

I couldn’t count on both hands the number of times those golden curls had haunted my sleep these past two days.

A halo of light that made the dark corners of my mind seem just a little less suffocating. Curls I wanted wrapped around my hand as I—

No. Don’t go there.

Before I could turn completely and disappear into the night, his eyes found mine—and the most absurd thing happened.

He waved.

For one insane moment, my hand began to rise in return, but I caught myself, dropping it stiffly to my side like a scolded child.

Hesitantly, as if approaching a ticking bomb, Louis made his way toward me, his meek form calling to something deep and wretched inside me.

“Do you need help with your wounds, sir?”

His voice was small, careful, almost apologetic. He glanced at the spot where he’d pressed a towel to my bleeding side, days ago—his poor, albeit noble attempt at staunching the blood flow and saving a stranger.

It was almost funny, anyone thinking I would need help with something so trivial as a knife wound. But then again, he didn’t know who I was. So, I did the only thing that made sense in the moment.

I lied.

“Yes,” I replied, hunching slightly to sell the act that I was in pain. I mean, pain did course through me, but I’d known worse pain and would likely know much worse again.

“Oh—okay. I’ll go get the nurse—” Louis began.

“No.”

My voice cracked through the run-down lobby, harsh and unforgiving.

Louis flinched slightly.

“That won’t be necessary, I think I can manage,” I added more softly, trying to soften the blow.

He blinked at me, uncertain, but finally nodded.

“Alright Sir. If you say so… but that looks really bad though,” said Louis worriedly.

Of course it's bad, carino. It’s a goddamn knife wound I thought to myself.

I flashed him a quick, practiced smile meant to ease his worry, gave a nod and turned away, walking calmly toward the covert spot where I had parked my car.

The second the car door slammed shut behind me, I lost it.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles went white.

The pull I felt toward him—this boy, this broken thing—was dangerous.

Unacceptable.

I’d greatly underestimated my attraction to him.

Growling under my breath, I slammed my forehead repeatedly against the wheel, hoping the sharp, jarring pain would drive him out of my mind.

It didn’t.

A shrill buzz from my phone interrupted my not-so-silent tantrum. It was Cathan. Great, I thought sarcastically.

“What?” I barked on the third ring. My emotions were really strung high at the moment and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit.

“Why did you go back there, Don?” Straight to the point. No sugarcoating. I wasn’t fazed. Cathan wasn’t one for small talk. And I wasn’t either.

“I wanted to see him.”

Silence.

“You wanted to see the broken boy?” Cathan said finally, his voice tight with disappointment. He let out a heavy sigh. And I could hear the frustration behind it.

Cathan had been more protective of me, particularly my heart, ever since I made the fatal mistake of handing over the bloody organ to another person.

“Why?”

Just a single word, but it carried an entire arsenal of judgement and concern.

Why?

I’d been asking myself that question for a while now but I still didn’t know why myself.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I said harshly. “I’m not going there again. It was pointless.”

And I meant it. I couldn’t ever see him again. Couldn’t let these feelings fester and grow. I won’t allow it.

“Good,” Cathan said, but his clipped tone betrayed his skepticism.

I could already picture him narrowing his eyes on the phone, like he always did when he didn’t believe a damn word I said.

“What’s the update on the Red Dragon?” I asked, changing the subject. There were better things to talk about like the person that was very much intent on ruining our family’s name.

From my end, I could hear Cathan visibly relax. Obviously grateful at the change of subject. He was always happier when we stuck to the business of blood and strategy.

“The plan’s set in motion. We just need your go-ahead. Once we move, the Red Dragon family will be nothing but ash.”

I knew I should be more receptive to the plan. Cathan proved his worth by plotting a devious way to get rid of the family that has been a pain in my family’s ass for years now. But for some reason, call it instinct or twenty-two years of constantly being alert, I couldn’t trust it.

They weren’t as powerful as us, but nevertheless, they were a powerful family and they wouldn’t go down that easily.

I made my concerns known to my consigliere.

“A valid point, Don,” he said. “I’ll have a new draft by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, do that. Also, send our most discrete spies to watch Aaron. Study his patterns.”

Aaron—the head of the dragon family—was a difficult bastard to trace but like all men, he had a weakness. A laughable one at that: his Bernese Mountain dog.

An animal he doted on like a child.

And like every weakness, it was a crack we could shatter into an opening.

He always walked the animal at a specific time. A time that we were going to use to our advantage.

I ended the call after making sure Cathan had gotten everything I said memorized. But even as I tossed my phone aside, Louis’ face bled into my mind again. I clenched my jaw, forcing the thoughts away like the weakness it was.

There were bigger things at hand.

Aaron’s downfall.

The family’s honor.

I stepped on the gas and sped into the night, promising myself—

I will not feel for him again.

No matter how much the memory of those sad, searching eyes begged me otherwise.