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Chapter Twenty-Two
Willow
The rest of the trip to the airport is silent, and it is not until we get out of the car and are running into the building that I reach out to stop him, noticing a large stain soaking the right side of his shirt.
"Shite, Duncan, you’ve been shot," I tell him under my breath. "You need to get to the hospital. It doesn’t look good." An instant pang of guilt hits me. I feel like there is so much I could have done to prevent this from happening. I could have reacted much sooner, but instead I was too preoccupied with the fact that for a moment it felt like the love of my life had come back to me. I couldn’t have been any more wrong about that. I don’t know all the details, but I can’t imagine the fact that he faked his death right in front of me, that his family had a funeral for someone who wasn’t dead, is a good sign about his intentions with me.
“No, I will live, Willow. We have to get you on a plane and get you to the other Clans so that they can protect you and be apprised of the situation. I can’t stop just because of a little blood,” he tells me, and I scoff.
“Have you lost your bloody mind? You are not invincible, and that’s more than a little blood. I don’t know how you haven’t gone and passed out on me yet. Plus, they are never going to let you on a plane like that,” I tell hm, but the way he is looking at me, I get t. He is not coming with me, he means to send me on my merry way not knowing whether he is okay or not. No fucking way am I going to let that happen.
I shake my head, infuriated, and look around to see the men heading towards us. Not his men. My men, and it’s about time I act that way. Before they can make it to us, I take a few strides forward and address them. “Your orders are to get us to the nearest hospital,” I tell them sternly, pointing back at Duncan. “He has been shot. You will be quick, you will protect all of us, and we will be discreet about this. We can go see the Clans when we are done. I want a detail on his room where he is admitted.” I hope I didn’t sound like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I had done it on the fly, but it had to be done.
Duncan looks good and pissed off as they get him into the backseat, and I get in as well.
“You want me to get treatment, fine, but go get on a damn plane, Willow,” he tells me again.
“Last I checked, I was Domnisoara, and whatever I say goes. You do not get to order me around just because we fucked,” I tell him. He growls at me, and I can hear the other men cough and snicker under their breath. But I don’t care anymore. This is life or death. I can tell by the way his skin turns pale. He is just too stubborn to take care of himself and much too cocky to allow himself to pass out until he is on death’s door. I won’t have it. “I am not leaving here without knowing you’re okay,” I say more softly, my eyes digging into his.
He says nothing else as we make the drive, and I can’t help but reach over and place my hand over his. I can’t look at him, can’t let him see just how frightened I am right now because it has nothing to do with the fact that my ex-boyfriend and the Italian mafia wants me dead. It has to do with him now. How long are we going to keep denying what is right in front of us because of some damn rules? I get the feeling it will be a little bit longer considering we have bigger fish to fry right now.
When we get to the hospital, he is rushed into surgery. I am beside myself in a panic as the doctors keep asking me what’s happened and threatening to involve the cops. On the spot, I have to come up with some bullshit about road rage, that Duncan cut some guy off and the guy cut around beside us and shot out the tire and then shot him when he got out of the car. Then, they left. The gentleman who brought us here were bystanders who decided to be good Samaritans. What a crock of shit, but they bought it, which means I am a better liar than I thought. That is both a good and a terrible thing.
I tell one more lie; that I am his fiancé, because otherwise, they won’t give me an update, any say in his health if something goes awry, and they won’t let me see him after he’s come out.
I spend the next two hours worried sick about Duncan. I forget all about Felix, the Italians, and the Clans. Right now, I am just a girl who loves a boy whose life is in danger on an operating table. It takes everything in me not to break down and praise every deity in existence. When the doctor finally comes to tell me that he is sleeping still but that he will be okay, likely waking up soon in pain, though, my heart leaps.
They take me back into the room, and I sit beside his bed as his eyes begin to flutter in tune to the beeping of his heart monitor. I wait until he starts making a sound, and I grab his hand, no longer caring what he or others might read into it. We can go back to pretending he is nothing more than my bodyguard later if need be. For now, when he is still in this hospital, I am going to let myself feel whatever it is I have always felt about my cocky American asshole.
“Willow,” he says groggily, his eyes finally opening and that dopey grin I know so well on his face.
“You shouldn’t be smiling with all the pain you’re in, you crazy wanker,” I tell him, and he just continues to smile.
“Marry me,” he says in response, and I blink at him a few times, before glancing up at the drip they have him on.
“It’s the pain meds, Duncan. Don’t say shit like that when you’re doped up. You’ll regret it,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“It’s not the meds, Willow. It is you. Marry me, damn it,” he says again, and I can tell he isn’t shitting me. He is serious, and it hits me like a ton of bricks.
“No way are they going to let me marry an American, I protest as if I don’t want this. Every part of my body is suddenly telling me it’s everything I ever wanted, and I can’t even explain it.
“We will ask Ion when we see him.” I nod, unable to refute anything else because I NEED Ion to say yes to this. I need to say yes to this.
