Page 74 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

I know Cat will give me hell later for this, but I'm not going to sit by while Doc stitches her up without anesthetic like a soldier on the battlefield.

I can deal with her not going to the hospital, or I thought I could, at least, until Doc mumbles something about MRIs and cat scans to make sure she didn't hurt her head during the impact.

"Crazy Piccolina," I whisper in her ear as I pick her up to carry her to the Hummer.

"Is she okay?" Papa appears out of nowhere, looking a bit shellshocked, but no worse for the wear.

"I'm taking her to the hospital; she needs stitches and some scans," I fill him in. "Mamma?"

"She's fine, she's putting together a quick triage. Mattheo and Tommaso are by the gate, keeping the cops out. The official story is that it was a gas tank explosion."

"Good, I'll be back as soon as I can."

"We've got it. Stay with your wife." My father insists, placing his hand on my shoulder, leaning over, and giving my unconscious wife a quick peck on the forehead. "She's a trooper."

"Don't I know it." I agree, taking one last look at the carnage and making a beeline out of here.

The gate is under siege; there is no other word for it.

The fire department is there, along with the police and reporters.

I make out Mattheo speaking to the fire captain and probably the chief of police, but ignore them.

Honking, I make my way through the throng, ready to bulldoze anyone and any vehicle in my way.

Every break, every swerve moves Cat's form in the seat next to me, which I reclined as much as it will go, and I curse the multitude of onlookers for the vultures they are.

After what seems like an eternity but, in reality, was only a fifteen-minute drive, I park right in front of the emergency room, leaving the Hummer running for whoever wants to park it, and carry Cat inside.

"Sir?" A security guard blocks my way, "You have to go?—"

I elbow him to the side, yelling, "I need a doctor."

"Sir, if you would please?—"

"Doctor! Now!" I bark at the young receptionist wanting to take my information.

The guard grabs my elbow from behind, trying to drag me back. "Sir, you can't just?—"

I shift my weight and drive my forehead into his nose.

He drops like a sack of wet concrete, groaning.

The triage room gasps collectively, but I keep walking, stepping over the bastard like he's part of the floor.

An old woman barfs into a paper bag near the chairs.

A nurse fumbles with a blood pressure cuff. No one moves fast enough.

"Someone get me a doctor before I start clearing this hallway with bullets," I snarl, voice low and lethal.

That gets results.

A nurse with enough sense and probably enough debt to fear men like me rushes forward. "We've got a trauma room, this way."

I follow, with my heart pounding like a war drum. The second I lower Cat onto the stretcher, three people descend on her, cutting fabric, checking vitals, asking questions I don't bother answering.

"She pulled the glass herself," I mutter. "Her pain tolerance is high. She's a fucking lion."

They ignore me. Good. That's what they're paid to do.

A nurse tries to push me back. "We need space, sir?—"

"She gets scans. Full body. You find every bruise, every fracture, every inch of that woman that hurts, and you fix it ."

A new voice enters, gravelly, calm, a man in scrubs who doesn't flinch when I look at him. The attending, finally. "I'm Dr. Mirani. We've got her from here. Go sit down. You're not doing her any favors hovering like a pissed-off cage fighter."

I clench my jaw. "Call me the second you know anything."

He nods. "We will."

I step back, fists clenched at my sides, and let them wheel her out of view. That costs me more than anything I've done tonight. Letting her out of my arms. Out of my line of sight. I pace the corridor, finally pulling out my phone.

One bar. I move to the window. Dial.

"Status?" I growl at Dante the moment the line goes live, watching the parking lot from behind a smudged pane of glass. I'm wound tight, my pulse still beating hard enough to make that rushing sound in my ears.

Dante doesn't miss a beat. "Four confirmed casualties."

My stomach drops.

"Three caterers," he continues. "They delivered the cake. Poor bastards never knew what hit them."

My jaw tightens. "And the fourth?"

He hesitates, but I already know. I say, "Sabine."

Silence confirms it.

"She was standing closest," Dante murmurs. "Some of the guests said Cat and Sabine had an argument right before the bomb went off."

I close my eyes. "Fuck."

"She went quick," he adds, like that's supposed to help. "She didn't suffer."

"I want names," I say, cold and sharp. "Anyone who touched that cake."

"We're on it," Dante replies. "Mattheo is already at the bakery. The place looked clean on paper, but something happened. The entire staff is dead, and the cameras were wiped this morning. He's digging."

"And Ledyanoy Prizrak?"

"He's at the warehouse, just like you ordered. Ready whenever you are. I have ten guards on him."

"Good," I exhale, slow and dangerous.

"We've got several injuries," Dante continues. "Mostly cuts and concussions. Nothing fatal. Mamma and your mother-in-law weren't close to the blast. Izzy is chomping at the bit to get to the hospital, but I told her to stay put until we know more."

"Good." Smart decision. The last thing I need is Izzy here right now. I'm barely keeping it together. One last question, not that I give a shit, but I'm sure Cat will ask when she wakes up. "And Shadow?"

Dante chuckles dryly. "Hasn't stopped howling since the blast. Julio had to sedate him. Swear to God, that dog's more loyal than half our crew."

My throat tightens again, different in a way I didn't expect—that damn mutt.

"How's Cat?"

I rub a hand over my jaw. "Won't know more until they're done with their scans."

Dante's quiet for a moment. Then, steady as stone, he says, "We've got everything under control. You stay with her."

I nod, knowing he can't see it. "Let me know the second Mattheo gets a lead."

"Of course."

I hang up and let the phone fall into my pocket.

Outside, sirens echo faintly in the distance, but inside, all I can hear is my blood roaring in my ears. Sabine's dead. My girl is behind a curtain surrounded by strangers. And someone out there still thinks they're untouchable.

They're not.

Not anymore.

Not after this.