Page 28

REID

C laude was right. It doesn’t feel good when the cutting is not in my control. He leans over me, smelling like rank sweat, and the scalpel draws another thin line along my abdomen.I am not going to give him the satisfaction of crying.

“Are there other groups in other cities?” Claude asks, breath smelling like death.

“I don’t know ,” I answer through gritted teeth.

My limbs are shaking from the pain and adrenaline.

The feeling of my blood dripping down my sides makes me want to vomit again.

Claude makes an exasperated noise as he sits back up, dragging the scalpel again.

A scream erupts from me before I can hold it back.

Slash after slash, I can’t even hear the questions Claude is murmuring to me anymore.

He seems to catch on and stands with a disgusted look on his face.

My blood drips from the scalpel, and this time the food from earlier does return.

Rolling over onto my side, I vomit again, then wince when the wounds on my stomach ache with my skin pulling tight.

“Useless,” Claude says angrily. He kicks my back hard. I groan with the ache of the force of his steel-toed boot to my back.

Resting my head against the cold, damp concrete, I pray for death to take me.

The sound of gunshots echoes through the room.

My skin is clammy with sweat, fear rattling through me.

A little more bile rises up in me, but I swallow it down to not anger Claude further.

I’ve really got to get the puking under control. It happens far too much.

Rolling over onto my back, I wince at the pain radiating through me, and watch distantly as Claude walks toward the door with a purposeful, angry stride.

Before he can even get out of the door, it swings open to reveal Dante with a gun raised.

Claude is big and fast though, grabbing the gun from Dante in a flash.

I must make some noise because Dante’s eyes flit to me.

Fury overtakes his beautiful face at the sight of me bloody and beaten on the ground. My Dante.

“You’re a dead man,” Dante says from between his teeth.

Claude chuckles, dangling the gun from his pointer finger in a mocking manner. “Children. You’ve no idea what you’ve done!”

Because Dante has no fear of danger, he lunges for Claude and surprises him with a right hook to the corner of his jaw.

There’s a tense pause for a moment, before they’re locked in a fistfight, the gun lying forgotten on the floor.

I try to move over, do something fucking useful, anything, but then the tug of the chain on my arm reminds me that I’m stuck. Fuck.

“There’s a balance!” Claude shouts as Dante gets in a good punch to his shoulder. “You kill too many bad people and the world doesn’t work right. You are all children! Playing like gods. ”

“We’re helping people!” Dante shouts back.

“You’re laying waste to an industry!” Claude snarls, spittle flying from his cut lip.

Their limbs move so fast it’s hard for me to keep up with who is where. But there’s blood oozing from Dante’s shirt, fast and dark, and Claude notices because he aims his knee right for that spot. But because Dante is made of steel and anger, the knee to his injury does nothing.

Shit. Where are the boys? Dante gets them to the ground, rolling around in a way that looks extremely painful, and then Dante has the gun back in his hands.

Letting out a roar, he aims the gun at Claude’s stomach and pulls the trigger.

After using the butt of the gun to Claude’s head, effectively knocking him out, Dante flops over onto the ground.

I think I died under Claude’s torture and I’m dreaming about Dante saving me. What a beautiful dream.

“Dante!” I cry out, voice hoarse to my own ears.

Dante’s eyes find me just as he lifts to his knees on the cold concrete.

Blood is everywhere. I don’t know if it’s mine, Dante’s, or one of the men he laid waste to as he came to save me.

Jesus. I crawl across the floor, body shaking the closer I get to him.

But I can’t go any further because of the chains.

Dante coughs, then tries to grab at a wound on his side.

Fuck.He crawls closer, just close enough for me to reach.

“Dante, baby.” I rest my bloody hand on his cheek once I’m close enough to touch him.

Dante’s eyes flutter open, but they’re almost lifeless, not dark with want like usual. A bittersweet smile tilts his lips up at the sight of me.

“Reid. Sweetheart.”

I choke back an anguished cry. I brush the matted hair from his face, then dip down to kiss him softly on the mouth.

He tastes like the metallic tang of blood but I don’t fucking care.

My hand trembles where it combs through his hair and his breaths are coming quieter as he stares up at me like I’m the answer to the universe.

I need to save him. Need to keep him. He’s mine forever.

“Dante,” I whisper brokenly.

“Mmm. Luv way you say m’name,” Dante slurs. “Luv… you…”

I can feel the tears sliding down my bloody cheeks, and this isn’t the way Dante likes to make me cry.

This isn’t right. I lean my forehead against his, hoping maybe I can share my breath with him long enough to make him be okay.

Make this all okay. A shout from outside the door tries to grab my attention but I can’t pull my focus from Dante.

He’s my entire world. All that matters anymore is Dante.

“Fuck, that’s a lot of blood,” Parker cries out from the door.

“Help him!” I scream, feeling the adrenaline start to flee my body.

After a few seconds getting my chains undone, Jacob picks me up from the floor as Hayden and Parker carefully lift Dante from the ground.

The bodies that litter the room are ignored as we make a hasty retreat.

The sunlight hurts my eyes, but I don’t have the energy to lift my hand to shield them.

I watch as Dante is loaded into the back of the SUV, lying flat in the back.

Parker sets me up front, but I immediately turn around to watch Dante.

“Give me his hand,” I demand without a shit in the world.

Someone places Dante’s hand in mine. It’s Mason, he’s in the back with Dante, covered in blood, but not caring for the first time in his life.

I rest my head against the console, holding tightly to Dante’s hand as we navigate the roads to go wherever we need to go to save him.

His heartbeat is weak under my thumb. If Dante dies, I’m going to die too.

I won’t survive losing him. Dante’s the only good thing in my life, the only thing worth living for, and the only bit of danger I can stomach anymore.

Life without Dante would be meaningless and devoid of all joy.

He’s… he’s it. He’s mine.The sun in the bleak pitch-blackness of my perpetually dark life.

We pass by one of those fancy-ass hotels downtown, turning into the basement where workers probably park.

The basement is devoid of cars and people, only Mandy from the diner stands outside the door to the bowels of the hotel.

What the fuck? Parker helps me out of the car, but I push him away.

I’m not letting go of Dante. Once they’ve got him out of the vehicle, I limp behind them with Dante’s hand still in my grip.

Mandy opens the door leading inside and frantically ushers us in with a quick wave of her hand.

Oh. This all makes a lot more sense now.

We follow her into the long fluorescent hallways, and she leads us deeper into the oddly quiet hotel basement.

Turning into a brightly lit, sterile room, there’s a medical table set up.

I watch as the boys lift Dante onto it, his blood-soaked clothes immediately dyeing the white paper crimson.

Fuck he’s lost so much blood.My head wooshes at the sight, dizziness threatening to sweep me under its tide.

I’m so scared for Dante that my vision is starting to go black, my wobbly knees threatening to crumble me to the ground.

“Where’s it coming from,” Mandy murmurs while hastily stripping away Dante’s blood-sodden clothes.

Shivers of fear roll through me, only getting worse when they find the source of the blood at a deep wound on his abdomen, another on his thigh.

I blink slowly and suddenly I’m on a table beside him.

I blink again and they’re all looming over me, blurry in my distorted vision.

I blink again and Dante’s clammy hand is no longer in mine.

Another slow blink.

Tilting my head to the side I steal one last look of Dante, finding his glassy eyes already staring back at me. When I reach my hand out, our fingers just barely graze before the last blink steals me away.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Oh my God, my head hurts something fierce.

Worse than when I take one of those random pills at the club.

Deja vu. Also, my mouth tastes like ass—not in a good way—and it’s dry as fuck.

It takes every ounce of energy to blink my dry, crusty eyes open.

Someone gasps sharply and then Mason is leaning over me, eyes red-rimmed from crying, and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Jesus, Reid.” Mason reaches a shaky hand out to touch me, but retracts it quickly. After taking a deep breath, he reaches out to softly touch my hand where it lies over the fluffy white blanket. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“What happened?”

Mason’s breath trembles. “You lost a lot of blood, we didn’t realize how bad your cuts were until you passed out beside Dante. I donated some to you, we’re the same blood type.”

I blink slowly at him. “Will I be afraid of germs now too?”

Mason’s face is stoic for one long moment, before he erupts into relieved laughter. “No, Reid.”

His hand is warm over mine, so I flip my hand over to tangle our fingers together. I don’t think I’ve touched Mason’s skin since we were children, since before his childhood cancer.

“I’m sorry to scare you.”