Page 12 of Love & Violence

I know I’d never had them before, but the thought of someone sewing me closed with a needle and thread made me nauseous. The last thing I want to do is look weak in my mate’s eyes, but I don’t think the next hour will be easy for me.

Chapter Four

Psych

“Give her some of that tequila behind you,” I bark at Rylee. “This is going to hurt like a motherfucker.”

“Tequila?” my mate asks, trying to stay brave, but I can see the fear and pain in her eyes. “I’ve never had alcohol before.”

“Babe, I need you to take a few big sips.” I lower my face beside her and lightly pet her hair. “It won’t taste nice, but I promise it will help with the pain. I need to get the bullet out and close the wound.”

“Please, Draven,” Aryanna begs as a tear tracks across her cheek. “I don’t want stitches.”

In my entire life, I have never felt as impotent as I do at this moment. Knowing that I must intentionally hurt my mate to save her life is tearing me apart. My panther howls in the recesses of my mind, only making it worse.

“I’m sorry, love, but I have to do this,” I say softly. I press the bottle of tequila to her lips and tilt it back, forcing her to swallow.

Her hands come up and press against my chest, trying to push me away, but I don’t let her. After, when I know she’s safe, I’ll make this up to her. Now I just need to save her life. I may not have made it out to be too serious, but any bullet wound could be life-threatening. When I finally take the bottle away, she glares at me, but I can already see the effects of the alcohol taking hold.

“Rylee, I need you to hold her down.”

But my sister already has her pressed against the mattress. It’s all part of how we were raised. None of us were protected from the life my father created, and this isn’t the first time my sister has been shot at or assisted in helping a wounded person. It won’t be the last time, either.

“I’m sorry, little mate,” I say before using the tweezer to grab the bullet. Fortunately, it protrudes from her wound, and I don’t have to dig for it.

We should be thankful the bullet went through the car door first. It slowed down immensely and only penetrated her flesh a little bit. If it had been a direct shot, without any resistance, the bullet would have ripped through her body and caused untold damage.

Aryanna shrieks, the sound bouncing off the walls. For the first time in my life, I am not enjoying the bloodcurdling screams. This isn’t my job. I’m not bringing justice to some asshole. This is my woman, my mate, my world, and I must hurt her to help her.

Rylee continues to hold her down as I clean the wound, but by the time I have finished the second stitch, Aryanna is passed out from the combination of alcohol and adrenaline, and I couldn’t be more grateful. After finishing the last stitch, I gently clean and wrap the wound. Lifting her into my arms, I walk out of the room to the master down the hall.

I want her to be comfortable in a clean bed when she wakes. She is going to be pissed off about what I did, and I need every advantage to win her back to my side. After making sure my mate is safe, I make my way back to the open living area.

“What the fuck, Draven?” Rylee yells at me the moment she sees me. “That’s Aryanna Esposito.”

“I am well aware of who my mate is,” I reply while pouring myself a drink.

“If I had known—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“What, Ry? You wouldn’t have helped me? You pushed me to find a way, remember?” I retort sharply.

Rat watches our exchange with rapt curiosity. Rylee and I rarely fight or disagree. We have always been a unit, sticking together and always having each other’s back. So, for him to see us like this is unusual.

“Of course, I would have helped you!” She throws her hands in the air in exasperation. “I would have just…” but she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“What aren’t you telling me, Dutchess?”

Taking a deep breath, she squares her shoulders before speaking. “You aren’t the only one with an Esposito mate.”

“What?” Rat and I say at the exact same moment.

“I found out about a year ago. The club was on the Montana run, and I went into town for groceries. We ran into each other at the fucking farmer’s market.” She chuckles, but it’s a dead sound. “I knew the instant I saw him, but I also knew exactly who he was. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“And all that bullshit you told me about only getting one mate and going after what makes me happy?”

“I didn’t want you to be like me!” Her voice had gone up an octave. “Do you think I enjoy knowing that my mate lives no more than ten miles from me and we can never be together? I never told anyone because I knew our father would use this knowledge to try and gain the upper hand against Stefano, and I couldn’t be part of that.”

A tear falls from her eye, and she swipes at it angrily. I haven’t seen my sister cry in years. I step closer and drag her into my arms, holding her tightly while she softly weeps.

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