Bloodlines (The First Draw)

Quannu u diavulu t'alliscia voli l'arma. (Arianna)

(Sicilian: 'If the devil pays you compliments, he wants your soul.')

Arianna

No one ever really explains the feeling of being shot correctly, in my opinion. It isn't the pain that is truly painful, it's the fear. The fear of actually dying, the fear of leaving your loved ones, the fear of becoming a vegetable, the fear of feeling pain. The longer the anxiety swirls inside the greater your fear grows, creating cyclical chaos inside. The anxiety causes your blood to pump harder and you effectively bleed out quicker. The more you bleed the greater exhaustion you feel. The greater the exhaustion, the closer to death you go.

The crazy part... I know I'm unconscious. I know I'm falling into the abyss of my mind. Once my eyes closed in Gedeon's arms I knew I was drifting down as if being drowned without a fight. You would imagine the further you drift the less you feel, but I felt it all. I feel the poking and prodding of the medical staff looking for the bullet. I felt the tweezers scrape the bone once they found it. I felt the blood flow from my veins as it saturated everyone's skin. I felt the needle suturing my open wound. I felt the heat of Dominic's fingers against my skin, his touch igniting a trail of fire wherever it went. It felt like his energy was being fed into my pores and quenching the thirst of my soul.

The graze of his fingertips over my stomach stirs something in my mind and heart. The heat begins to seep into my muscles and down to my bones. The blood in my veins seems to flow with more urgency as if coming to life. The pressure of his lips on mine is like someone pumped oxygen into my lungs for the first time in years. I hear nothing. I see nothing. I feel everything. A spark ignited and blossomed into a scorching inferno in my mind. I'm not sure how long the burning continued until the exhaustion lifts enough for me to pry my eyelids open and my hearing to come back.

"FUCK! She's awake!"

-----

Adjusting my leggings and securing the hem of the hoodie I stole from Dominic in place, I keep my eyes on the spot of the wall in front of me. The chair I've been forced to stay seated in, for what feels like the remainder of my life, is incredibly uncomfortable. Whining a little and squirming makes all the men around me look over. It's like I've been on bed rest and twenty-four-hour surveillance since my eyes opened. They have lost it to their overprotective sides. I get it and I need to take it easy, but Dio Santo I should be allowed to be comfortable without everyone staring. Squirming more with a huff of annoyance, I am ready to snap.

"Dio Santo! Can I please just walk around for a minute? My ass is numb," I ask abruptly standing up. A large hand is suddenly on my shoulder, pressing slightly to have me sit again. Dominic puts me in my seat and kneels in front of me to cup my face with his hands.

"Sweetheart, don't test me. I will tie you to the bed if you try to get up again. The doctor said bed rest, you're lucky you're even here instead of the house." His voice is soft and gentle, but I know the threat is real. I had to beg and guilt him into letting me join them here while they work on locating Lucas. Rolling my eyes as he kisses my cheek before returning to the others, I huff out another annoyed breath.

"I don't understand how we have so many resources, but no one can trace him. He must be in Greece," Vincenzo says with his hands running through his hair.

"The problem is, we have limited access inside the country. He's stayed out of camera view, obviously being careful." Lorenzo adds. Suddenly my phone rang loudly through the room.

"It's Dad," I assure everyone before answering it on speaker.

"Hi Daddy, how are you?" I ask.

"How am I? The question is how are you? I wish I could see you Bambina," he says with deep sadness in his voice.