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The flames lick at my bare skin as Elijah carries us through the fire, and if I didn’t know better, I would think he’s a hero. What else can you call a man who runs into a burning building to save you? Who walks through fire to get you to safety? But my husband isn’t a hero. He’s the monster lurking in the shadows. He’s the man you cross the street to avoid. And he’s the man I trust to hold my heart and body in his hands.
Cool fresh air rushes around us and the moment my lungs fill with something other than smoke is almost as painful as when the beam crashed down on me. The toxic cocktail of smoke and adrenaline rushes from me, and I cough long and hard, jolting every injury I have and causing tears to stream down my cheeks.
Elijah breaks out into a jog. The jostling hurts, but not like breathing does. The very movement that keeps me alive makes me wish for death. The tension in his jaw is tight, but it gives me something other than pain to focus on. The tic of the muscle proves how close to losing his shit he really is, but you’d never know from his hold on me, firm but gentle. He seems to know exactly where it hurts the most, and he’s avoiding the areas at all costs. He knows my body as well as I do. Maybe even better.
The moment the cars come into view, Elijah relaxes just enough that I no longer think the muscle in his jaw is going to snap at any second. And when I see Wynter being cradled in Everett’s arms on the sidewalk, some of the tension in my own body releases. She’s safe. My sister and niece are safe, and that’s all that matters right now.
“Snow?” my sister whimpers, her eyes darting over the injuries I haven’t brought myself to look at yet. Call it what you will. Blissful ignorance. Plausible Deniability. It doesn’t matter what label you put on it, I’m going to ride that train for as long as I can before admitting just how hurt I am.
“Just stay put, Dove,” Everett murmurs. “Doc will be finished dressing your wrists in a minute.”
“The baby?” I croak. Between the crying, the smoke, and my own screams, my voice is hoarse and barely there.
Everett looks at me over his shoulder, the fear and anger dancing behind the deep blue pools. “She’s okay. Doc did a quick handheld ultrasound, and she’s rolling around in there happily, her heartbeat is perfect.” His hand rubs affectionately over my sister’s bump, and relief washes over his tense body, his shoulders visibly relaxing when the words leave his mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut in relief. I could never have lived with myself if something happened to my niece. Facing my sister and Everett would have been impossible, even if they would never have blamed me.
Another presence tugs my eyes open, and I’m met with Doc’s piercing eyes, worry etched into his brow. The man has always had a soft spot for me, even though he hates pretty much everyone else he meets.
“I would rather not take her to hospital,” Elijah tells him. “I don’t think I can have her out of my sight… ever again. Can you check if you can treat her injuries or if I need to have a team of surgeons meet us at home?”
Doc gives my husband an amused eye roll but nods. “Lay her out on the bed of my truck. There are some blankets already spread out, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”
Elijah doesn’t respond, instead jumping into action and taking long strides toward the deep blue truck. But when we reach it, his grip on me only tightens as a war rages behind his eyes.
“Elijah?” I murmur.
Forest-green eyes meet my own with an intensity that almost makes me look away. His anger and fear are barely contained, and I’m beginning to wonder if the only thing stopping the tether from snapping is his arms around me.
I want to reassure him, to tell him everything is going to be okay and that I’ll be just fine. But I don’t know if that’s true. The more the adrenaline starts to waver, the more pain courses through my body.
“I can’t,” he whispers, dropping his head to my shoulder. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to put you down again.”
Before I can respond, Storm appears beside us, his eyes brushing down my blood-stained clothing. “We’re all going to the estate.” It’s not a question and I brace myself for Elijah’s anger, but it doesn’t come.
“I think we’re safest there,” he agrees and I whip my head around so fast my neck screams in protest. Did my husband, the man who trained to hate my family, just agree with my brother? Am I dead?
“Why isn’t she lying down?” Doc snaps, and if I was capable of smiling right now, I would be from ear to ear. I love how grumpy he is. I love that he puts my scary-ass Mafia boss brother and husband in their place. And I love how Storm and Elijah take it without so much as a blink of an eye.
“I’ll be okay,” I murmur even if I don’t believe the words myself.
He hesitates for another moment before gently lowering me down to the soft linen. My body protests, pain shooting through every inch of me, but I do all I can to keep my face trained. “I’m sorry, Snowflake.”
Doc climbs up on the truck bed beside me and carefully pulls the sweater up, the fabric tugging at open wounds and making me hiss out a breath. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m being as gentle as I can.”
Elijah growls, but Doc just gives me a wink and returns his attention to my injuries. He gives my abdomen a few excruciating prods before picking up my wrist and examining the damage I caused trying to escape.
“I think we should take her to a hospital,” he finally says, continuing before Elijah can jump in and interrupt. “I’m positive she has internal bleeding, which means she’ll need blood, possibly a lot of it, and it would be safest if she were in a hospital. Additionally, her wrists need to be looked at by a plastic surgeon, and they don’t normally make house calls.”
Elijah’s panicked eyes brush down my broken body and he nods once. If I didn’t already know the man was completely obsessed with me, this moment would tell me everything. Despite his better judgment and his own need to have me close, he’s putting my health and safety first. “I want the same setup as after the wedding. I don’t give a fuck what it costs. Make it happen,” he says. “And I want you in there with her. I don’t trust anyone else.”
68
Elijah
Inever really believed in déjà vu. It wasn’t a concept that my family would allow us to believe, and the myths about the feeling were too out there for the likes of the Russo family.
But this is it. I’m pacing up and down the corridor of the hospital wing we’ve completely taken over. There isn’t another patient in this part of the hospital and perhaps I should feel bad about that, but I don’t. The only thing I care about is Snow, and everything else on the face of the earth can get fucked as far as I’m concerned.
