𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 |𝟏𝟖+ (#𝟏)

𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝚃𝚈-𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 |

38
ALESSANDRO VITALE
-------------------------------------

I've been keeping my composure.

Dr. Shane Miller, Dr. Gloria Miller, his wife, and their care team of nurses and surgical technicians spoke to me in words that sounded like jumbled garbage. My father sat next to me, his hand holding my mother's watching as she soaked up every piece of information the care team spewed from their lips, asking questions and receiving answers - asking more questions.

I couldn't focus.

The adrenaline of the night was still pumping in my veins.

"She's out of the woods for now but it's going to be a long road to recovery. She has a skull fracture that should heal on its own in a few weeks, we were able to control the internal bleeding with her spleen and save it. She has a few fractured ribs that will make breathing painful for a few weeks until they heal. Her left eye came in swollen shut but from what I can see she should recover all sight once the bruising is down."

"Oh God." my mother whispers her fingers wiping the tears from her eyes. I was stoic, my eyes focused ahead on one spot on the wall. My sanity.

"Franco, how is he?" she asks.

My heart sinks.

"Shit."

Her eyes are closed. Her breathing labored

The bruises. The fucking bruises. She looked fucking unrecognizable.

My step towards her is fast, never mind the creaking floor beneath my feet. Tyler Whitcomb's body weighs her into the floor like a cocoon, one I'm sure she wanted to be rid of. The smell of cigarette smoke and blood filled my nostrils. Amber was smaller than the last time I saw her. She looked broken. Lying on the floor, barely breathing her face was covered in bruises and cuts, and her clothes were torn and soiled with blood—my sweet girl.

I push the man's body off her much smaller frame kneeling on the floor and cradling her close. Her injuries up close cause bile to rise in my throat. I wish I awarded a more painful death to him than the immediate gratification of a headshot.

Then everything happens in such a split second.

One second I watch as Maxim grabs Amber from my arms, releasing me from the weight of her body safe against me, and brings her up the stairs. He was taking her back to one of the two vans we fashioned into an ambulance for any possible issue we may run into. The next second Franco is clutching his neck and falling to the floor. The next second I'm by his side and Dimitri has fired three shots that connect when I hear loud curses.

"Fuck, man." My hand grabs for the knife in my pocket using it to cut some material from Franco's pants. Tying the material around his neck I slow the bleeding probably enough to get us up the stairs and out of the building and immediately to help.

"Dimitri, help me get him up." When I look up, he's crouched over Callahan's body using the butt of his gun to knock him out effectively.

One.

Two.

Three.

Three hard hits before his body thumps to the floor. Dimitri is a buff man with a genial spirit. He stands tall with broad shoulders and a muscular frame and looks intimidating at first sight. His impressive physique, however, belies his tranquil and composed demeanor. He has a deep, soothing voice and a calm and heavy expression, giving him an aura of composure and intelligence. A silent killer.