Page 13 of Sardonic Burn

It hurts like a bitch.

I’m not sure if my thigh is hurting or my pride, since my ego took the biggest hit in my life. I’m trying to focus on the murderous thoughts that fill my head as the doctor finishes stitching me up.

That motherfucker.

Not only did he stab me, but he stabbed me too deep. The tip of the blade grazed the bone and although it’s nothing too serious, it definitely could’ve been. Did he just want to frighten me, or did he come with murderous intent but backed out at the very last minute?

“Where are you going?” Dylan’s voice reaches my ears as soon as I hop down from the hospital bed.

Pain shoots through my body, the wound aching. My legs give out, and my knees buckle, but Dylan is there to catch me before I get the chance to fall to the floor. My hands are trembling as I try to swallow down the pain.

“Nowhere.” I sigh in defeat.

I know that I’m acting like a child, but the anger overtakes my mind. I’m filled with an inexplicable amount of rage, and I have no outlet to release it. Instead, I’m bound to this hospital bed for another night as the doctors keep an eye on my wound.

“What in the world happened back there?” Dylan’s voice is soft. He’s afraid of me, which isn’t surprising. It is surprising how everyone is treating me like a toddler, and I don’t like it.

“Nothing.”

I can’t tell him that De Santis stabbed me. How can I ever face that humiliation—that embarrassment? Not only did he stab me and leave me to bleed out to death like I’m yesterday’s trash; he also dared to point a blade at my throat and managed to successfully cut it.

I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t scare me. At first, I couldn’t help but laugh at the dead eyes that stared back at me. But the more I provoked him, the darker his eyes became, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight.

It sent chills down my spine.

I feel them even now, goosebumps appearing as a reminder of how terrified I was a while ago; a defeated feeling that left a sour taste in my mouth. I’ve never been this humiliated, and I absolutely despise the feeling.

Dylan stares at me for a moment longer before he sighs, turning his head to look out of the window. He knows what happened. By now, he’s already seen all the footage of De Santis dragging me there and then leaving before I screamed.

“Why are you asking me what happened?”

Dylan’s eyes snap to mine and he halts, brows narrowing. “Because I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

This marriage is something I didn’t agree to, at first. Father didn’t force me, push me, or try to manipulate me into agreeing to it. However, once I realized how good it would be to have Dylan Sinclaire by my side, it clicked, and I agreed.

But there were never any feelings involved.

Not from me, not from him.

It’s a mutual business transaction.

We have an agreement. Both are free to be with whoever we want to be with until we marry. Afterward, we must remain loyal to each other. I like that; it gives me enough time to go out there and maybe find someone more suitable.

Realistically speaking, there isn’t a man more suitable for me than Dylan.

“Would you believe it if I told you I have genuine feelings for you?”

“I would.” I swallow a knot in my throat. “But I’d advise against that. At least until we marry. Do not let me hear that nonsense again.”

Dylan smiles softly. “You’re too cold. You need to let someone into your heart.”

“Why in the world would I do that?”

“Suffering alone isn’t the answer here, Noelle.”

I pause and stare at him in disbelief. “What exactly are we talking about right now?”

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