Page 46 of Dark Truths

“Thank you, Doctor.”

I stare at the closed doors for a moment longer before I lean back into Dimitri. It's instinctual and familiar. I just need to feel his strength and hope a fraction of it will absorb into me.

He doesn't move and, after a long minute, asks, “Would you like some hot cocoa?”

“I actually wouldn’t mind some coffee. Cream and sugar, please.”

He rubs my upper arms before placing a chaste kiss on the crown of my head. I close my eyes at the sensation. “I’ll be right back.”

I reopen my eyes in time to watch him walk away and when he disappears around the corner, a wave of cool air rushes over me, like he took all the warmth with him. Shuddering, I sit back down in the chair and pull my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself.

My mind replays the memory of Enzo getting shot over and over. I can still hear the piercing sound of the gunshot echoing in the penthouse, feel the pain of my scream tearing free from my throat, and see the overwhelming amount of blood spilling from his wound—warm and far too precious to lose. The fear in his pale blue eyes when he looked at me will haunt me always. I've seen my fair share of gunshot wounds more horrendous than Enzo's, but I never want to witness anything like that again.

My eyes focus on the red stains covering my hands. My poor attempts to wipe it off have left the blood smeared and now dry. It’s a painful reminder. My skin itches with the overwhelming desire to clean it off. I need it gone. I can at least do that, since I’m unable to do anything else.

Maybe when Dimitri gets back—

“Gabriella!”

My head snaps up and all I see is my big brother standing in the doorway. I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, shoving out of Dimitri’s jacket and crashing into his chest a second later. I’m sobbing hysterically, even when he pushes me back to get a better look at me and then movement behind his shoulder draws my attention.Dad.

Michael releases me, and I fall into the safety and warmth of my father’s embrace. His strong arms encircle me, reminding me of all the times he did the same for me when I was a kid. The times I fell and scraped my knees, trying to keep up with my brothers and the others. Or the one time I sprained my wrist because I didn’t listen to his direction during a sparring session. He asks Michael a question over my head, but their exchangesounds warped, like I’m listening underwater. But one voice is clear as day.

“I can help fill in the details.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Dimitri?” my brother snaps.

I twist in my dad’s embrace to see Dimitri gesture towards me. He’s wearing his jacket again and there’s a pair of generic white coffee cups resting on the table closest to him. “I brought your sister and friend to the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she asked me to.”

I raise a slight brow because it’s a little more complicated than I asked him to. Dimitri notices and his lips quirk. A moment later, though, my brother has Dimitri shoved against a wall by the lapels of his jacket.

“What the hell is going on between you and my sister?”

Fuck.

Something dangerous flashes in Dimitri’s eyes, but he remains calm. “Let me down, DiAngelo, and I’ll explain.”

“The fuck I will, Volkov.”

“Do you want me to answer you or not?”

“You can answer from where you are just fine.”

Okay, that’s enough testosterone building for one evening. Dimitri will only take so much of my brother’s crap before lashing out, and I doubt a fight between them will go over very well.

I step forward and place my hands on Michael’s arm. “Let him go, Michael.”

“No. I’d rather not.”

“Please. He helped us.” I need to get him to listen to me. “He’s the only reason Enzo is alive right now.”

Dad’s deep voice orders, “Michael. Let the man speak. We don’t have a lot of time.”

I watch the indecision battle in his eyes before he finally releases Dimitri and steps back.

---