Page 73 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

Pain blooms in the darkness, sharp and sudden in my side, a white-hot stab that makes it hard to breathe.

I open my eyes to find the world tilted sideways.

Smoke curls like fingers in the air, tasting of sulfur and scorched velvet.

Somewhere nearby, glass crunches under someone's boots. My ears ring and my vision blurs.

Eliza's beautiful dining room is gone.

Or at least, it's unrecognizable—half caved in, chairs overturned, a chandelier dangles by a single chain like a broken limb.

My hand scrabbles against the floor. Fabric. Dust. Blood?

I try to sit up and nearly scream. The pain punches deep under my ribs. Something's wrong. Maybe broken.

"Stay down," Enrico growls, and I suddenly realize he's beside me, crouching and bleeding from his temple.

"No," I gasp, gripping his sleeve. "The others—Sabine, she was just here, where…"

"Keep her still, Sartori," a cranky voice advises as I try to make sense of what is happening. The wedding. I'm married! Enrico.

"Are you okay?" I ask, trying to lift my arm to clear a smudge on his face, but my arm doesn't budge.

"Dammit, I said hold her still ," the man repeats.

"You've been hurt, Piccolina. I need you to hold still," Enrico whispers in my ear.

Terror rises like a tide. Memories of a loud boom. Memories of me flying through the air. And then: Sabine!

"Sabine, where is she?"

"We'll find her," Enrico tries to soothe me, but now the memories are coming back, brutal and clear.

"A bomb, oh my God, there was a bomb."

"Shh, Cat. We'll find Sabine, I'll?—"

Adrenaline floods me, "No, listen to me, Enrico. There was a bomb in the cake. Sabine, she cut the cake."

He stares at me like I've lost my mind, and going over my words, I realize it sounds… outlandish. My eyes beseech him, "Please, trust me. There was a bomb in the cake. And Sabine… I think she's gone."

"I'm sorry, Cat." His lips brush my forehead.

"Alright, this will hold until we get to the hospital, pick her up carefully," the voice by my side says.

When I look down, I see an older man who looks like everyone's favorite uncle.

Right now, his wispy white hair is filled with soot and blood, and the left lens of his glasses has a spiderweb crack, but he smiles at me.

Enrico moves to do just that, but I stop him, "Wait, wait!"

I still can't move one arm, but the other works fine, and I use it to grab Enrico's shirt collar. "Wait, listen to me."

"Alright, Cat, I'm listening." The worry in his eyes only partially leaves him, but he seems to realize that I'm not hallucinating, nor am I delirious. "Sabine met with Ledyanoy Prizrak. He's here."

He unknots my fingers from his shirt and brings them to his lips. "We know, Piccolina. You don't have to worry. Ledyanoy Prizrak is our prisoner. But I need to take you to the hospital now, you've been hurt."

I can't think about that now, my mind is full of Sabine's last moments.

Funny, I've always heard that explosions and banging your head will cause amnesia that covers at least the last few moments before.

Not for me, though. It seems the opposite.

Everything from the moment Sabine picked up the knife is seared into my memory.

"Izzy?"

"She took Ledyanoy Prizrak down," Enrico tells me, not without pride in his voice.

His words elicit a small smile from me: "Good for her."

But the moment doesn't last long, "The others? Mamma, Papa? Your parents? My brothers?"

"We'll find them, Cat. I promise, but we need to take you to the hospital now."

I shake my head. "You need to go. Find them. Make sure they're okay."

His eyes snap to mine. "Not a fucking chance."

"Enrico—"

He leans close, so close I can feel the fury radiating off him in waves. "Don't waste breath telling me to leave you. I'm not going anywhere."

I try again, weaker this time. "Please. If they're hurt?—"

"I'll find them," another voice says, deep and unshakable.

Dante.

He emerges from the smoke like some kind of myth, jacket torn, shirt streaked with soot, a gun in one hand. Behind him, Toni moves like a shadow, scanning the wreckage.

"We've got it under control," Dante says. "Take her to the hospital."

Again, Enrico moves to pick me up.

"No!"

"Cat," he warns, "you need to go to the hospital."

"I'm not going anywhere until… You said you have Ledyanoy Prizrak?"

He nods.

One more time, I take his shirt hostage and pull him forward, "That man killed my sister; you need to interrogate him."

"It can wait." He shakes his head.

I know that tone. He's not going to budge.

"How bad am I hurt?" This time, I ask the wispy, favorite-uncle lookalike.

"You've got a glass shard embedded in your side. I don't know if it hit an artery?—"

"Doc!" Enrico snarls at him.

But I got the picture. Now that the man, Doc, I suppose, told me, I can feel it, too.

It feels alien and foreign in my skin. But it's not deep.

At least I don't think it is. I know one thing for sure, though: they're going to take me to the hospital, and Enrico intends to go with me instead of getting information out of Ledyanoy Prizrak.

I cannot allow that to happen.

"So what if there is no artery affected?" I ask.

The man shrugs, "We'll stitch it."

"And if there is?"

"We'll stitch it; it's a bit more?—"

I don't let him finish before I lose my nerve; I let go of Enrico's shirt and feel for the shard. It's not as big as I thought it would be, maybe the size of my little finger.

"Careful, don't?—"

I don't let Doc finish. The glass feels slippery, but I get a good grip on it and pull it out with a defiant scream, tossing it aside. Actually, my side hurts less now. I feel like I can breathe.

"Cat!" Enrico yells, his hands moving to my side, trying to staunch the flow of blood he's expecting.

"I'm good," I try to smile.

"That was… badass," Dante snickers.

I giggle. Nobody has ever said that to me before.

"Don't even," Enrico warns.

"Let me see," Doc pushes against Enrico.

"You're very lucky, young lady. No artery involvement. It's superficial, but it'll need stitches," Doc informs me, his favorite uncle expression giving way to something sharper; he's stern and unimpressed.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen," he goes on, reaching for his suture kit. "And trust me, I've seen a lot of stupid things from your husband and his merry band of trigger-happy jackals."

"Jackals?" I blink.

"That's me being polite," he mutters. "You think working with these guys for twenty years didn't teach me a thing or two?"

Enrico glares. "Now's not the time?—"

"Exactly," Doc snaps. "Which is why I insist we move this conversation to the hospital."

"That I cannot allow to happen," I cut in firmly, repeating the words like armor. "I'll go to the hospital, but only if you go find answers. You do what you're supposed to do. I'm not a mission, I'm your wife . Go make sure we're safe."

Doc points at me with his gloved hand. "See? The bride's got more operational clarity than the rest of this damn crew."

Dante grins. "She's been hanging out with the jackals too long."

"Don't encourage her," Enrico snaps. But he's not angry. He's afraid. And I love him for it.

"Just stitch me up, please? I can go to the hospital later, but for now we need to…"

"Cat," Enrico's gaze levels me. My gaze doesn't flicker. I meet his head on.

"We're married, remember? In sickness and in health and… I guess during bombs. Now, if you won't stay here, have this man stitch me up and let's figure out what happened."

Pride reflects on his features. "I love you."

"I love you too, now?—"

He imperceptibly nods at the doc. I feel the small prick of a needle, and the world around me goes all fuzzy. They drugged me!

"Not fair…" I complain, feeling myself float against Enrico's chest.