Page 58 of Reign

Is it over?

Are we free?

Who’s coming for us next?

I send Nikita a text asking for updates but Diego is still in surgery. It takes me a second to realize Joelle is still talking. “There’s a guest bedroom on this floor with its own bathroom. Down the back hallway, second door on the left. I’ll place some clean clothes inside.”

“Thank you. We’ll be out in fifteen minutes,” I tell her as I take Libby’s hand.

Heating up the shower – which has two heads – I glance over my shoulder at Libby. “Lib, talk to me. Are you okay?”

She nods here head but tears well in her eyes as her body starts to shake. I’m not sure if it’s shock or cold. She still has specks of dried blood on her despite the rain and the hose. I hold out my hands, giving her the option to walk into my arms but not forcing her into them, either. I’m relieved when she comes willingly. Instead of wrapping her arms around me, she clutches on to my shirt at my sides. I take her face in my hands and wait until her eyes find mine. I could fall forever in her eyes. “Thank you for saving my life… again.” I always think I’m protecting her but that’s twice now that she’s saved me. “You are such a warrior and I’m sorry for every moment I doubted you.”

“I don’t feel like a warrior,” she says robotically, looking at the floor. “I feel numb.”

I tip her chin up. “Even warriors need someone to fight for them sometimes.” I kiss her forehead and slowly start to peel her wet clothes off. “Is this okay?” I ask, knowing her mental state is more than a little shaken at the moment. She nods and reaches for the hem of my shirt mirroring my movements but I stop her shaking hands. “Libby, you washed me when I was bruised and broken. Let me return the favor.”

She nods as I unbutton her pants and slide everything to the floor. I make quick work of my own clothes and I guide her into the shower.

I spend the next ten minutes massaging shampoo into her hair and running soapy hands all over her body, which elicits several sighs.

“I remember when Diego beat you up in Venezuela,” she says as I continue to knead her muscles and gently scratch all the blood off of her. Her eyes are closed and although I miss her body and am drinking it in with my eyes, she needs something from me other than sex right now.

“For the record, I let him do it. I can take Diego,” I joke. It’s not funny, but if I don’t joke, I’ll start breaking things so I don’t cry. I can’t lose my best friend. I only just got him back.

She tilts her head and angles it up to catch my eyes. “I meant what I said, Dom. He’s going to be okay.”

This time it’smyhand that shakes with the effort of holding back the tears. But when Libby wraps her arms around me, I can’t hold them back anymore.

I cry for Adriana. I cry for my mother. My childhood. Camila. Irina. And Diego. Everyone who’s been harmed or damaged due to the Hielo or Santos name. Libby and I are all that’s left of either wretched family and we’ve been hurt the worst, so I shed the most tears for she and I as well. All the greed, all the deceit. All the control and manipulation.

There’s been too much loss already. I need Diego to hold on.

She patiently holds me until I get myself under control and am able to do a quick rinse for myself and shut off the water. I’m eager to get back to my phone in case there’s news.

We slip into the clean clothes Joelle laid out on the bed for us. Old habits die hard though, and I expect her to be standing on the other side of our door with a pistol in her hand and a new threat ready to go.

She’s there when we open the door, but instead of a weapon, she’s holding a drink in each hand. Tequila for me. Vodka and ginger ale for Libby.

“I heard the water shut off and thought you guys could use those drinks right about now.”

“Thanks, Joelle.”

A smile paints her face and her features seem less strained than when we left her that short while ago.

“The doctor came and spoke to Niki. They’re closing Diego up now. He should be fine. Maybe some residual nerve damage but the bullet missed his heart and his lungs.”

I’m so relieved I drop to my knees and thank God.

My mother would be proud. Diego would be grateful. And hopefully God doesn’t hold grudges like a Venezuelan woman.

“He lost a lot of blood so they gave him a transfusion and will keep him overnight to make sure there aren’t any complications, but he should be able to leave in twenty-four to forty-eight hours if everything goes well,” she adds.

I get it. He’s not totally in the clear, but he’s breathing.

“Then we should get over there. The last time I saw him, he was holding a gun to my wife’s head. I’d like to chat about that.”

The girls exhale tired giggles, feeling the same giddiness at this news that I do. Sleep is threateninghardto pull me under but I feel a surge of energy at the thought of seeing Diego.

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