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Amidst the chaos, a sudden scream pierced the air, jolting me from my focus on the shooters. I whip around to see Tatiana clutching her arm, blood seeping through her fingers.
"NO!" I roar, the sound tearing from my chest as primal rage surges within me. In an instant, I'm at her side, scooping her up into my arms and shielding her from the hail of bullets that continues to rain down upon us.
"Philippe, it hurts," she gasps, pain etched across her beautiful face. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see her panic.
"Stay with me,Tesoro," I urge her, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. "I've got you."
With Tatiana cradled in my arms, I sprint towards the nearest exit gate, weaving through the gravestones and panicked group of mourners. I can feel her trembling against me, her body weak and vulnerable, and it only fuels my determination to get her to safety.
"Get them!" I bark over my shoulder to my men, who had sprung into action when the first shot rang out, attempting to subdue the remaining attackers.
Finally reaching my car, I gently lay Tatiana down in the backseat, doing my best to keep pressure on her wound. She winces in pain but doesn't complain; instead, she fixes her gaze on me with unwavering trust.
"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Home," I reply without hesitation, knowing that my house will offer her the best chance of protection and care. "I'll take care of you, I promise."
Chapter 26
Tatiana
Blood. So much blood.
It seeps between my fingers as I clutch my arm, waves of agony rippling out from the bullet wound. What the hell just happened out there?
Philippe's shout echoes through the car. "Luca! Now!"
His driver emerges from the shadows, eyes wide. Philippe motions at the driver's seat.
In the back seat, Philippe gathers me close.
"Resta con me, Tatiana. Parla con me.”–Stay with me, Tatiana. Talk to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on his voice instead of the fire racing up my arm. "About what?"
"Anything. Tell me about your family. Your childhood. I want to know everything about you."
The car speeds through the streets, winding toward Philippe's compound. I lose myself in memories of Mom’s kitchen, the aroma of fresh-baked bread and tomato sauce simmering on the stove. I remember Dad teaching me to dance in our living room, twirling me around as Mom laughed.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, the details blurring. My eyelids droop.
Philippe's grip tightens around me. "No, stay awake, Tatiana! Fight!"
I struggle against the darkness, anchoring myself in the warmth and strength of his embrace.
The gates of the compound loom before us. We've made it.
Philippe sweeps me into his arms once more, carrying me inside. "Ora sei al sicuro, cara mia. Ti tengo io.” – You're safe now, cara mia. I've got you.We’re met at the door by a doctor and two of his nurses. They set me on a gurney, wheeled me through the hallway, and down an elevator to a cold, sterile room in the basement.
I can hear people shouting around me, poking me, prodding me. I shake my head, trying to get them off. Philippe calms me with his touch, his words, his voice.
Dr. Rossini helps Philippe ease me onto the hospital bed. My arm is a blinding agony, blood soaking through the makeshift bandage Philippe applied.
The doctor unwinds the bandage with quick, efficient movements. "The bullet went straight through," he murmurs, probing the wound. "No major damage. I'll clean and stitch it and prescribe a course of antibiotics."
I nod, my jaw clenched against the pain. Philippe grips my uninjured hand, his eyes shadowed with concern. "Do what you must. I'll stay with her."
"I'll give you something for the pain first." Dr. Rossini prepares an injection and then slides the needle into my arm.
