Page 58 of Dreadful

“This couldn’t have been too long ago, the dinner napkin looks like it might have staunched some bleeding,” Gio points out.

It might have helped, but he’s still pale from blood loss. I dip a towel into the water and gingerly clean the wound. Tony gags beside me.

With all the false confidence I can muster, I lie through my teeth. “Gio, take Tony back to your apartment. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” Gio asks, his worried expression now darting from the sickly-green hue on his husband’s face to Sever’s cut, and then back to me. “I can help Tony home and then come back—”

Tony dry heaves, and Gio holds onto him to keep him from doubling over. “Actually, come get me if you need me. I’ll do the texts and check on you.”

“Sorry,dol—” Tony chokes on my nickname, and Gio curses.

“We have to go, Tallie, but let us know if you need anything.”

“Make sure all our doors are locked before you go back. We don’t know who did this.”

Gio nods and rushes Tony out. We all know helping someone on the wrong side of the Mafia is dangerous, but we’ve made our decisions. I hope we don’t regret it.

With them gone, I press the towel to the wound with one hand and quickly unpack nylon thread, a surgical needle, and thread snips from my apron with the other.

Sever blinks rapidly at the needle. “Do you know what you’re doing,vipera?”

“Nope. But I’m all you’ve got unless you want me to drop you off at Mass General.” I assess his brutal cut and its jagged lines. Fury burns in my veins.

“Who did this to you,” I murmur.

He huffs a chuckle back. “You don’t even want to know.”

I frown at his answer, but I go back to inspecting him. The blood isn’t flowing as much anymore, which I take as a good sign. I’m normally fine with wounds, especially since I enjoy causing them so much, but apparently it’s different with Sev.

His skin is flayed open, but before I get sick like Tony, I thread the strongest nylon I’ve got into the eye of my surgical needle. My fingers shake while they pinch the two sides of the wound closed, and I swallow before whispering to myself.

“It’s just like leather. It’s just like leather—”

“The fuck it is. It’sskin.”

“Hey!” I bark. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“I just don’t think you can do it. Maybe I should take my chances—”

I stab through his skin and take more than a little pleasure in his groaned curse. When I look up at him, though, agony etches every single inch of his face. Agony thatIcaused, and guilt, of all things, pangs in my chest. But there’s a glint in his eyes that relaxes me.

Hewastrying to piss me off.

My eyes narrow at him, and his lips curve into a pained smile that makes my chest ache and stomach flutter. He knows I can do this. I know it, too, but he realized I just needed a push.

I take a deep, cleansing breath and lean over him, getting as close as I can to see.

“Okay, prepare yourself. This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“I know.” He takes another swig of the Amaretto and grimaces at the taste before growling. “I’m read—oh,cazzo.”

He groans as I pierce his skin with the needle on the other side of the wound and nearly writhes off the bed.

“Stai fermo!Hold still!” The needle stays embedded in him while I quickly straddle him to stop him from moving. I bear my weight on his torso as I continue to sew him up, and his hands grab the back of my thighs to hold on. He hisses through his teeth and squeezes me so tight that I’m sure I’ll bruise.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and focus on my next stitch.

I don’t know how tight these need to be or how deep I should go. The best I can do is make sure they’re not so close that the skin puckers in between each one.