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With the hard part done, I apply some disinfectant to clean the wound. Constantino grumbles as the liquid is poured in. I know it hurts and probably badly, but in some ways, I don't really care. This man has killed a lot of people. He's lucky that he gets a chance at life he's stolen from so many.
With steady hands, I sew up his wound and dress it. "Okay, it's done," I say as I lean back on my hands, sitting on the cold floor. My own adrenaline leaves my body, and exhaustion quickly takes over as a result. I feel something on my wrist and glance down to see Constantino's thick fingers wrapped around it. I look between his hand and his face, watching as he tries to squeeze my wrist and then mouth what I think is a "thank you" but I can't be sure.
"Is that gratitude I see?" I think sarcastically. But even with all the pain he's caused others, there's still a part of me that wants to believe in some shred of humanity within him.
"What else can I do to help?" Teddy asks me, clearly still spun up from the entire ordeal.
I watch Constantino's unconscious form on the floor. His breathing is even and steady now, but I know he'll be in a world of hurt when he wakes up.
"We need to get him somewhere he can rest," I say. "He's going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up."
"I'll go get a guest room ready," Teddy says, looking relieved to have something to do.
"Get one for me too," I tell him, knowing there's no way I'm driving home in my current state. Teddy nods and hurries off down the hall, leaving me alone with Constantino. The last of his fight has finally given out, and his hand relaxes around my wrist. He's stable, so I'm not worried anymore.
I glance back down at his hand, noticing the various tattoos that snake around his thick, strong fingers – symbols of violence and survival. The callouses speak of a life filled with hard work and darker deeds. As I follow the intricate designs up his arm, I see a leather wristband wrapped tightly around his wrist. It's a thick, patterned band with a sturdy buckle, stained with blood from his injury. Even though I shouldn't care, it seems like something important to him.
Grabbing a clean hand towel, I begin to wipe the blood off the wristband. As I do, the band shifts slightly, revealing a tattoo peeking out from beneath it. I pause, straining my ears for any sign of Teddy coming back, but hear nothing.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I try to push the band up further, but it's too tight. With a sigh, I undo the buckle and the material falls away, revealing a small faded tattoo underneath. My eyes widen as I take it in, recognizing it immediately. The snake is coiled around the staff of Asclepius and I'm left reeling with what I just learned.
Constantino Maldonado - the feared and violent enforcer, the man who has done so much harm and violence - has a secret that he's trying to keep hidden.
Chapter Five
I rub the sleep from my eyes, trying to blink away the fog and take in my surroundings. Things don't seem particularly dark or light, which means I didn't die. "Shit," I curse under my breath, realizing I gotta keep living this idiotic life. I attempt to move and sit up, but the pain in my shoulder is excruciating. I let out a yelp like a bitch, and it echoes through the room around me.
My vision finally clears, and I recognize that I'm back at the mansion. Fucking aye, Teddy must've come and found me after all. I carefully turn to examine the wound in my shoulder, eyeing it as best as I can from my angle. I don't know how he managed this though because the stitch job looks pretty damn good.
Now that I know what's hurting me and where I am, I bite through the pain and get myself seated. I need to take a piss and then get the hell out of this godforsaken mansion. I was gonna stay in Teddy's little forest getaway cottage, but then him and his new boo (or old boo? It's hard to know given their history) decided to move in there.
I seriously don't get people. I'd move into the mansion in a heartbeat if I thought it was safe for me to do so. But, with so many people wanting to kill me, my little apartment in Revere is definitely safer. Sure, it's a shithole, and it's a pain to get out to the mansion, but it does have this little staircase that goes up to my own private roof. And even though it makes me feel like a bitch to say it, I like laying up there and being under the stars sometimes.
I glance down at my wrist, feeling a sudden looseness that wasn't there before. My eyes narrow as they focus on the leather wristband I've worn since high school. It's clearly been undone and resecured. I never take this fucking thing off. The skin beneath it is probably whiter than an albino polar bear, but I couldn't care less. No one needs to see what's underneath. Not even some asshole with a laser ready to remove it. Better to keep it well-hidden and covered. If it weren't for those critical veins running so close by, I'd slice the damn thing out myself.
But now, it's obviously been messed with, and that pisses me off. Who could've done it? Teddy? Why would he touch my wristband? More importantly, I can't ask him about it, because then he'll want to know what the big deal is, and I sure as hell don't want him prying.
Frustration boils up inside me, and I let out a growl that echoes in the room.
Teddy bursts through the bedroom door, his breathing labored. I shoot him a look. "You're out of shape if a little jog's got you winded."
"Ha...haven't slept," he pants, trying to catch his breath. "Too hyped up."
"Great," I say, rolling my eyes. "What the hell happened?" I ask him, motioning to my shoulder. "How'd you manage this stitch job?"
"Doctor," he says, like it should be obvious. My face turns red with rage, and he must sense my anger because he quickly raises his hands to calm me down. "I didn't take you to the hospital. I'm not that stupid," he reassures me. "Isabella's sister. She's an ER doctor."
Hazy memories from last night creep back into my mind. A beautiful woman, tending to my wound with skilled hands. So, it was her. She must've seen what's under the wristband.
"Fuck," I mutter, tightening the buckle on the leather strap. "I need to have a chat with this doctor of yours." Teddy's eyes widen in protest, but I don't give him a chance to argue.
As the memories of last night resurface, I see her face clearly in my mind. She was an unexpected beauty with golden hair framing porcelain skin, her blue eyes intense but cautious. I remember the way her hands moved with precision as she tended to my wound—the delicate touch of a healer, but there was also an underlying strength I couldn't ignore.
At first, she seemed hesitant to help me, unsure if she wanted to get involved with someone like me. But eventually, something changed in her eyes. Maybe it was pity or some innate sense of duty towards another human being. Whatever it was, she gave in, and her skilled hands worked tirelessly to save my sorry ass.
"Where is she now?" I ask Teddy, trying to sound casual as I remember the curve of her lips, the way her eyes sparkled when she focused on her work. There was something about her that made my insides twist, a feeling I hadn't experienced in quite some time.
Teddy shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. She left earlier this morning. I guess she went back home? Maybe back to work?"
