Chapter 155

"You won't want to."

I stood up again when his voice drifted into the atmosphere. I followed my ears.

"Are you hurt?" I asked. "It seems like something is hurting you."

"Knowing that you're here makes my condition worse."

A sarcastic chuckle escaped his lips.

I followed him.

I kept going where my heart led me.

"Leave, Emília."

"No."

"Why the hell are you so stubborn, damn it?"

I shook my head.

"I need to see you."

"Not now, damn it."

"I don't care what you want," I shot back.

"Emília..."

"Please, Dante."

"Go away!"

His scream was loud enough for me to calculate a route and figure out where he was. I ran quickly, reaching his area in no time.

It was impossible to see, but his heavy breathing, distorted by painful moans, his strong and intoxicating scent, and the aura of his presence told me I was in the right place.

"You said you wouldn't yell at me anymore, remember?" I mentioned, trying not to cry and feeling my way to him.

"I forgot that you want me to yell at you in more private places."

His malice didn't help me relax. I was still dazed and scared. When I finally touched him, relief filled my mind.

"Dante, you're trembling?"

His body vibrated with fervor. I touched his forehead, and the sweat spread across my hand. His damp hair, his mouth open, gasping for more air than he needed.

"Damn Norman... That son of a bitch," he cursed angrily.

"Who are you talking about? Are you hurt?"

"A little."

"Where?" I asked in desperation. However, he didn't need to answer as I touched his leg and felt it burning. It was so hot I thought I had placed my hand on fire. "My God."

The liquid flowing through my hand scared me. I couldn't see anything, but I quickly recognized what was sticking to my hand.

"You're bleeding! My God!"

"Maybe I took a bullet in the knee," he said, laughing in distress, but his breathing was growing heavier.

"This isn't funny, Dante. We need to call an ambulance. You need help."

"It can't happen."

"How not?"

My throat tightened, my chest was racing, completely panicked by all the chaos. Dante could die. He was bleeding, exhausted, on the brink of passing out.

The thought of losing him in an instant terrified me. However, controlling my breath was more important right now to keep Dante safe. To help him. To protect him.

"I shouldn't be here..." he murmured.

"Not?"

"Neither should you, Emília."

I took a deep breath.

"Let's not talk about that right now. We have to help you. Please, Dante. You're so important to me. I don't want to lose you." My tears drowned my words. I exhaled hard through my nose, rubbing my fists on my face. "We need to call for help."

I had Dante by my side, but I couldn't see him. I just knew he was there, bleeding and sweating.

It was agonizing and terrifying.

"We can't call, Gray."

"You'll die," I said desperately. "God, Dante, you could die. Don't do this."

"Let me die and go away."

"No!" I screamed, barely holding back the punches of my heart against my ribs. "I'll die with you."

"Emília, damn it. This is not the time for you to be stubborn."

"Neither is it for you. Tell me what to do."

Dante groaned in pain. He tried to move his leg, but it was impossible.

"Take the bullet out," he whispered, grinding his teeth.

"What?"

"I have a flashlight and a pocket knife," he started to say. "You’ll turn on the flashlight and use the knife to remove the bullet, okay?"

"What? What are you talking about? Take the bullet out? That's not safe. You shouldn't do this without a professional, Dante."

"You said you wanted to help me. Don’t back out now."

"Dante, I’m not capable."

"Fuck, Emília. You’re capable of anything. I trust you," he said, his hand somehow reaching mine. He also strongly felt my presence. He was hot. Very hot. "It’s in my knee. Either way, it has to come out. If you can, we can better control the bleeding. And maybe I won't have to worry about losing the movement in this leg."

My fingers scratched my other arm.

I was also sweating. My dress was a disaster. The dirt belonged to me, especially the blood that seemed to cling to me.

"Alright. I’ll try."

Dante groaned, mentally and physically preparing himself.

"I’ll give you the flashlight, but please, don’t scream."

"Why?"

"Because the reason I’m here is another."

He handed me the object, and as soon as I turned it on, my heart muscle was hit.

It had been years since I’d seen a dead body. I had forgotten what the smell was like, the image, the agony of knowing that person no longer had life.

But what affected me the most was the suffering face. The wide-open eyes, the arms sprawled as though he'd fought with all his strength to keep his heart beating.

The pain.

Clearly, the pain from the last seconds of life.

"Oh, my God!"

The uncontrollable crying came immediately, especially when I saw the gun on the ground and Dante's leg completely purple, the blood spread in a pool of intense smell. His hair was soaked, his forehead shining with sweat.

I felt pain in every damn inch of my being.

My dreams would be replaced by this nightmare forever.

"Focus on me, little one," he demanded.

"What happened?" I asked, wiping my eyes.

"Not now. Don’t ask me that question because I won’t be able to be honest with you."

"Dante, I need to understand more. There’s so much that involves you that I don’t know how far I’m being led," I explained.

"You won’t want to hear it."

"Dante..."

"You’ll see," he admitted. "When we get out of here, you’ll know."

There was so much pain in his voice that I regretted that request.

I didn’t want to know anymore.

Dante’s anguished groan reminded me that I had something to take care of.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, and I nodded.

I ripped the fabric of my dress and handed it to him. "Here. You’ll need it for..." "I know."

With difficulty, Dante tied the fabric to his mouth, placing it between his teeth.

I positioned the flashlight so I could see his leg. I stared at him, waiting for a response, and as soon as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, I grabbed the pocket knife.

"If it hurts too much, I’ll stop, Dante."

I didn’t look into his eyes again, afraid of regret.

I tried to understand where the bullet was and all the blood that had spread. I wiped it with the edge of my dress, but it was hard to control what was happening around the knee.

I took a deep breath.

I positioned my hand around the open wound.

I marked the area with my gaze.

I cut.

The scream of pain that strangled his throat made me stop immediately. His nails scraped the floor, and I imagined hearing his heart stop the moment the knife entered his body.

"We can’t do this. You could get an infection, make things worse. It’s not in..."

"Keep going!" he ordered, panting heavily. "Damn it, Gray."

"I trust you like hell. Do it."

I shook my head, but I kept going.

I focused on the area and circled it with the knife. Faulkner’s thunderous scream echoed through the walls, burning my ears.

I kept going.

He screamed.

The blood kept flowing, spreading on my fingers.

It was disgusting. Wrong. Everything about this was filthy.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. The air was pure, entering my lungs, waiting for intoxication.

Dante kept screaming.

The pain transferred to me.

And I screamed with him.

It was painful to see him. No anesthesia. No anything to help him.

He trusted me too much. He was putting his life in my hands.

But I couldn’t stand knowing that I could kill him. That I could destroy his life.