Page 88 of Heartless Vows

“It missed all the vital things, so I’ll be fine for a few more minutes. Go get the boss lady fixed up, and I’ll be there before you know it, ready for a little pinch and pull.”

I question my choice in consigliere. Slice and dice for a killing spree? Pinch and pull for bullet removal? Thispazzoneeds a lingo update.

“Thanks, consigliere.” The soldiers look between us in shock as I call him my second for the first time, but I continue as though it’s old news. “I expect to see you at the clinic in less than thirty minutes,” I snarl.

“Yes, boss,” he answers as he pushes himself up off the floor.

Tristan stands with several more packets of coagulant in his hands, glancing between me and Fiero, obviously torn on where to go.

“Come with us, Tristan. I might need you if she passes out again,” I say.

He nods and hands the pouches to the nearest man before rushing to my side.

To the tune of Fiero delegating tasks to the men, I start down the stairs and shorten my stride so Tristan doesn’t hurt himself trying to keep up, somewhat reassured when Aurora remains alert enough to dig her nails into my nape. I settle into the back seat of whichever car is ready to go, careful to keep pressure on Aurora’s wounds, and let my soldier shut the door. As he and Tristan rush around the car to their seats, she turns her face into the crook of my neck and shudders.

“You’re okay, Aurora. We’ll get you patched up in no time,” I murmur.

She nods and passes out. Tristan pats her shoulder and keeps her awake with random trivia, offering me a deeper glimpse into their lives before our unexpected betrothal. Favorite colors, shapes, sounds, time of year, and TV series episodes. Specifics surrounding key moments in their shared experiences. Jokes. Everything highlights how much they love and rely on each other.

I want to experience this intimacy every day for the rest of my life. I want to be someone who these two amazingly resilient souls can trust and love for the rest of their days. Neither one will ever hurt like this again.

The moment the driver parks outside the clinic, three nurses and my personal physician emerge. Tristan jumps out and runs around to open my door, but a male nurse reaches me first and leans in to take Aurora from me.

“Get your hands off. I’ll carry her in,” I snarl and stand, forcing him to move out of the way.

Tristan stays right on my heels as I rush into the building. When my physician leads us straight to a room, I follow him inside and stop beside the bed.

“Sit. Keep pressure on her wounds,” Dr. Karl demands.

As I turn, he gestures for a nurse to lower the bed and grabs Aurora’s wrist. He straightens her arm and cleans the crook of her elbow before starting her transfusion with practiced ease. With a few curt words, he sets his team into coordinated chaos. In less than two minutes, they’ve hooked Aurora up to several machines and monitors, coaxed her to take a few pills, gathered a ton of supplies, asked a few pertinent questions, stationed a nurse on either side of me, and prepped my physician for what looks like surgery.

He wheels his stool so close his knees brush against mine before he leans into Aurora’s view. She gives him a slow blink.Although still sluggish and pale, she seems more alert than in the car.

“Have you ever been injured like this before?” he asks.

She croaks out ano.

“We’ll wait a few more minutes for the oral coagulants to work and for your vitals to stabilize before I check your wounds.”

She nods.

Dr. Karl leans to the side and lifts a brow.

“Mr. Vivaldi, you’re bleeding all over my bed. Stand and I’ll bandage you while we wait.”

When I hesitate, Aurora digs her nails into my nape and traps my gaze within hers. The worry shining from her emerald orbs matches the fear thundering through my veins, so I stand and allow my physician to treat the wounds on my side and hip.

Tristan shuffles forward and takes Aurora’s hand as my physician takes the nurse’s spot at my side. Aurora blinks at him and attempts to give him a small, reassuring smile, but she passes out halfway through the motion. I tighten my arms around her, and Tristan squeezes her hand as she lies limp between us.

“She’ll be okay, Tristan,” I say, willing it to be true.

He nods and lifts worried eyes up to mine, but when he meets my hard gaze, he squares his shoulders and returns my nod.

“Yeah. We’ll protect her together, just like we promised.”

Emotions clog my throat, but I affirm our pact by saying, “Yes. Together.”

She wakes and gives an unsteady sigh before closing her eyes and squeezing both my nape and Tristan’s hand.

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