Page 81 of Lethal Devotion
Konstantin had sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're not thinking clearly about this."
"I'm thinking perfectly clearly. They hurt her. They threatened her. They would have—" I'd stopped again, my hands clenching into fists. "They would have done worse if you hadn't gotten there in time."
"And we did get there in time. She's safe. She's here, in our home, under our protection."
“And she’ll never be able to leave if this threat isn’t stopped. She’ll never be safe. You think Giovanni will just stop, because you’ve made a deal? He won’t. He’ll send someone else out. Someone who can’t be traced back to him. It’ll be an accident. And I—” I shook my head. “I can’t live with that, Konstantin. I can’t. We have to finish this.”
Konstantin had let out a heavy breath, studying the papers in front of him. “You’ve never asked me for anything,” he said finally. “Are you asking me this for yourself, brother?”
I could feel the weight of his words, of what he was saying. Of what he’d be willing to do for me, for my long years of loyalty, of friendship, if I said the word. Of the choice he’d make.
It meant more to me than I’d ever be able to express.
“Yes,” I told him, meeting his gaze squarely. “I’m asking you to do this the old way. To finish Giovanni Russo and as many of his men as we can.”
Konstantin let out a heavy sigh, and nodded. “Alright. I have intelligence that says Giovanni is recuperating at a safe house here.” He tapped a spot on the map in front of him. “If we move quickly, with a strong force—but one that can do this as quietly as possible—we might have a chance of finishing him off tonight.”
Just thinking about it now, as I stand on the precipice of the stairs, makes my blood run hot, my muscles tight with anger that, right now, has nowhere to go. The intelligence was wrong. The safe house had been occupied, all right, but not by Giovanni Russo. Instead, we'd walked into a trap, a handful of his soldiers waiting for us. The firefight had been brutal and quick, and by the time the smoke had cleared, we'd taken out six of their men and lost two of ours.
And Giovanni Russo is still out there somewhere, probably laughing at how he played us.
I want him fucking dead.Every breath is agony, but if I could be sure of where he was, I’d head right back out into the night this instant just to finish him off.
The bullet that grazed my ribs is a constant, throbbing reminderof how badly the night went. It's not deep, but it's long, a furrow carved along my side that's still seeping blood through my shirt. I need to clean it, stitch it up, bandage it properly. I need to do it before the adrenaline wears off completely and the pain gets worse. Not to mention all the other cuts and bruises, and abrasions that need to be tended to so that I can still move and function tomorrow.
And the last thing I want is for Sienna to find out how badly this went, or how hurt I am.
I make it halfway down the hall to my room before I hear her voice.
"Damian?"
Fuck.
I stop, forcing myself to look at her, knowing what my reaction will be before I even lay eyes on her. She’s standing just outside of her room, wearing a pink silk nightgown that brushes the tops of her thighs. Her strawberry-blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, and even in the dim light of the hallway, I can see the worry in her green eyes.
"You're hurt." It's not a question. She's already walking toward me, and I take a step back instinctively.
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding." Her gaze is glued to my side, where I know the blood has seeped through my shirt. She’s still halfway down the hall from me, but I swear I can smell the sweet scent of her shampoo and skin, that scent that’s uniquely her, soft and good and everything in the world that I don’t deserve. “Damian?—”
I suck in a breath, and bite back a curse at the pain that jolts through my ribs. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."
"A scratch doesn't bleed like that." She stops as I hold up a hand, shaking my head at her.
"Don't."
"Don't what? Don't try to help you?" Her voice takes on an edge that I recognize, the sound that she gets when she’s frustrated, when she’s tired of me fighting her, when she’s trying to let me in. The problem is, I don’t know how to stop. "Don't care that you're hurt?"
“It’s not that big of a deal, Sienna?—”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I see something shift in her expression. The worry is still there, but there's something else now, something that looks almost like understanding.
"You're trying to push me away again."
I don't answer, because what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? That she's right? That every instinct I have is screaming at me to put distance between us, to protect her from the darkness that follows me everywhere I go? That I'm terrified of what will happen if I let myself need her the way I'm starting to?
I’ve come up with so many reasons why this is wrong, why I shouldn’t have her, why Ineedto let her go, and none of those have changed. All that’s changed is that my desire for her has morphed into a need that feels like it could kill me if I let it.
