Mixed blood

Chapter 35: Vodka

She watched through the blur as her cousin disappeared. Her eyes tracked him until they couldn't anymore—until the chaos began to quiet. Until the only thing she heard was her own ragged breathing, and the ringing in her ears.

William turned to his men, ordering, "Gather everything. We're leaving. Now."

He barely spared her a glance until she swayed.

Her arm throbbed with a fiery pain, and the spinning world finally tilted too far.

And it all went dark.

He was saying something—maybe her name?

She couldn't tell.

Her knees gave out. Strong arms caught her just before she hit the ground.

"Luana!"

She felt the rush of wind against her face as he lifted her into his arms and strode toward the SUV. Her blood was soaking into his black shirt.

The car door slammed open.

"Move. Now!" he barked at the driver, sliding in with her still in his lap.

She slumped against his chest, eyelids fluttering.

"Luana—hey—stay with me," he snapped, tapping her cheek lightly while pressing his hand hard against the wound on her arm.

"Mmm..." she mumbled. "D-don't yell..."

"I'm not yelling," he lied instantly.

"You are yellin..." she muttered, trying to lift her head.  "you're cute..."

He blinked. "What?"

"D-did you kiss her?" she slurred. "The blonde..."

William stiffened. "Blonde? What—there is no blonde!"

"Don't play dumb... lingerie blonde..."

His nostrils flared. "That was Caterina. Dimitri's wife. I didn't cheat. I swear to God, with my own life, I didn't cheat and I would never do."

"Liar..." she murmured, "You had glitter on your collar..."

He blinked again. "That was her stupid perfume or whatever makeup she used. She hugged me."

Luana tried to glare but only succeeded in half-blinking. "I don't like glitter..."

"I'll burn every glitter factory in the country, just stop bleeding!" he snapped, then cursed and pressed her arm tighter. "Merda, merda, merda... You're losing too much blood. Lu—look at me."

Her eyes flickered open slightly. "You look pretty... when you worry..."

He growled under his breath. "Don't flirt while dying. That's my thing."

She smiled faintly. "Y-you're warm..."

"Yeah? Well you're not. You're freezing..." he muttered, eyes flicking over her pale face. He grabbed his coat, wrapping it around her, then pulled her even tighter against him. "Here—come on, take my warmth. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I put you in this. I'm so selfish. I forgot to protect you from my ego."

She made a tiny noise. A breath. A murmur. He leaned closer.

"You awake? Good. Listen, just... just listen to me, alright?"

His hand shook as it stroked her hair away from her face. "I hate hospitals. It reminds me of my mother's death. And still, I'm rushing you to one like a lunatic because you're—you're not allowed to die. Not before me. That's a rule. I just made it."

Her lips twitched, barely.

And then the Italian spilled out of him before he could stop it—ragged, fast, furious. "Dio mio, volevo lasciarti lì, Lu. Giuro su tutto quello che ho. Volevo guardarti morire... per farti assaggiare la tua stessa medicina. Per farmi sentire libero."