Page 73 of Beautiful Scar

The doctor snaps a rubber glove off his hand and wipes his forehead with a towel. “He’s lucky, honestly. Your husband’s a shockingly resilient man.”

Terror wars in my gut. I can barely stand still as I watch the doctor put away his tools. I’ve been waiting in Tigran’s living area while he got put back together in the bedroom, and staying out here has been like spending an eternity in hell.

“He’s going to be okay?”

“Eventually.” The doctor sighs and sits back in a chair. “He’s got a cracked rib and a nasty stab wound on his forearm. That took a solid twenty stitches to put back together. He lost a fair amount of blood, but with rest and liquids, he’ll be fine. The bullet went in on his right side, traveled along his ribs, and exited the back. Honestly, a little bit to the left and it would’ve punctured a lung.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” I repeat, feeling sick to my stomach. I’ve already thrown up twice today, and I don’t understand why. Nothing was wrong this morning, and I still puked until the nausea just suddenly disappeared.

“He’s going to be okay.” The doctor pushes himself to his feet. “He was asking for you. Just please, be careful, okay?”

I brush past him and run to the bedroom. I throw open the door and find my husband sitting up in bed, awake and pale, grinning at me as I hurry to his side.

“You look worse than I do,” he murmurs as I take his hand in mine, press the rough skin to my mouth, and start crying.

It comes out of me in waves. The relief is so painful. I was terrified I lost him when Vito came to my room and told me what was happening. I don’t even know how this happened, and it doesn’t even matter. All I kept thinking about was a life with Tigran gone, and it seemed empty, flat, and worthless.

“Don’t youeverdo that again,” I say, barely getting myself under control enough to scold him.

He laughs lightly, then stops as he grimaces in pain. “Sorry, baby, but there’s only one twin down. I’ve still got one more to go.”

That only makes me cry more. The thought of him going out there to kill again? It’s maddening and pure horror.

“Didn’t know you cared so much,” he mumbles when I finally get control of myself again.

“Of course I care.”

“Here’s me thinking I was just a good lay.”

“Well, you’re that too.”

He smooths my hair and motions me close. I lean up and let him kiss me lightly. “I wouldn’t leave you, baby. Not for anything.”

I stay next to him. We don’t speak for a few minutes. I listen to his breathing and lean my forehead against his neck, breathing in the smell of blood and sweat. I could stay here forever by his side, on my knees next to his bed, leaning into his warm body as his hands gently stroke down my back.

If this is what our marriage is going to be like, I have no clue how I’ll survive it.

“Are you two all right in here?” Vito appears in the doorway. He looks drawn, tired, and concerned, but some of that eases when Tigran greets him.

“I think my wife’s feeling worse than I am,” he comments.

“I don’t know. You look like shit.”

Tigran coughs and grins viciously. “You should see Ciaran.”

“It’s done then?” Vito nods to himself and looks toward the windows. “I suppose that explains it.”

“Explains what?” There’s an edge to Tigran’s voice, and his smile is totally gone. I change positions so I’m holding his hand while Vito shuffles into the room.

“Alexan gave me these.” He places several photographs down in Tigran’s lap. “He found them in the spare room.”

Tigran slowly raises one up, and my throat constricts with fear.

It’s a picture of me. It was taken through a window. The image is blurry, like it was taken far away, but I recognize the kitchen. I’m smiling and saying something.

There are more photos. They’re all of me. Glimpses of me through windows. Some caught me looking out at the street,while others have me passing like a ghost. There are six of them in all.

“They’ve been fucking watching.” Tigran throws one photo onto the floor in rage. He grimaces in pain and tries to sit up, but I push him back.

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