Chapter 146: 41| Blood-2

I couldn't help but smile up at him at that moment. He stared at me for a minute. "It's going to be okay," he said, "I love you." "I love you," I whispered as he kissed my forehead softly. We returned to the center of the room where the veiled piece waited to be revealed. Compared to every gallery we'd been to thus far, tonight, there was one major difference. There was a host. An art curator was waiting to present the final piece. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "if you could please gather for the final, show-stopping reveal of the night." My hand tightened around Dante's, and he gave it a firm squeeze in response as we waited amongst the crowd. A card was in the curator's hand, and I watched with curiosity as he cleared his throat and began. "Before I reveal the piece, there was a distinct request made by the artist, an announcement that he requested I make…" Dante and I exchanged a glance before facing ahead again. "This painting has been left to a certain guest. Hopefully, that guest is among us tonight." He began searching the crowd for someone, and I watched as his eyes halted on Dante. "Mr Dante Rossi," he said, "could you please come forward?" After hesitating for a moment and scanning the room, Dante began walking ahead, keeping me close to his side. "What's going on?" I muttered. "I have no fucking idea, Mia Cara. Looks like we're about to find out," he whispered. "This painting has been left to you. To you both," the curator told him. "It's a gift from the artist himself. That's all I've been told." With a light dip of his head, the curator then walked away wordlessly. Turning to the painting behind us, Dante's hand slipped out of mine, and he stepped forward to pull away the red silk draped over the painting. The entire room had grown tense, and I could hardly breathe. In one swift motion, Dante tugged the drape away, tossing it on the ground and finally revealing the painting to us and the entire room. A series of soft gasps spread like wildfire through the room before people broke off into whispers. I stood there completely fucking frozen. My breath was caught in my throat, and no matter how hard I tried to move, my entire body was rooted, pinned in place. "What the fuck?" I said quietly, mostly to myself. Dante physically retreated from the painting, taking several steps back and coming to my side. "Ana…" Rose said, touching my arm lightly. "That's you, isn't it?" It sure as hell fucking was… A black-and-white portrait of… me took up the entire canvas. Certainly, Ethan hadn't drawn it from life, solely from his imagination, but it looked exactly like me. Fuck, it was me. Not a single detail was off. I walked in tonight expecting to see blood and a mutilated body, but this was the complete opposite. The portrait still appeared carefree and messy, each brush stroke visibly overlapping the previous one. My hair was twisted up in the painting, with strands falling over my eyes as if the wind blew past me. I sat with my chin in the palm of my hand, my fingers splayed over one half of my face, hiding my features on that side, save for my eye. He painted me smiling. Forget smiling. I was fucking beaming in that painting. My eyes darted to the crowd, and even though I should have been scanning people's reactions, there was only one person I was searching for amongst all those faces. Ethan. He was nowhere in sight, fuck, I couldn't even find the ghost of him. Until my eyes landed at the entrance; I caught a small glimpse of him just before he turned around and left. Fuck no. I can't let him get away again. His sob story couldn't justify murder, and it didn't matter how much I pitied a part of him. My job was to bring him to the authorities, and that was it. "He left," I told Dante, "we have to get him." "Ana-" "We have to." Without a second though, I began to push through the crowd, heading straight for the exit. I heard Dante calling out, telling me to wait, but my feet were moving ahead of me. I couldn't think of anything except getting to Ethan and just fucking ending all this bullshit. I didn't even realize when I lost Dante in the crowd, but when I broke past everybody and reached the gates, I knew I couldn't stop. I'd be too late, and we'd lose Ethan all over again. Picking up my pace, I ran out into the parking, looking around frantically for him until I finally spotted him. "Ethan!" I shouted, stopping several feet behind him to catch my breath while maintaining a safe distance between us. He halted immediately when he heard me call his name, and I watched his entire body go rigid at the sound of my voice. "Ethan, wait! Please!" I yelled. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his side. Unlike the last time I saw him, he wasn't dressed in a polished suit. He wore faded, baggy jeans and a huge black hoodie that seemed to overwhelm him. It was like he just deteriorated and descended into complete fucking madness, just spiraling and unraveling without any control over himself. He turned around and finally looked at me. I subtly began reaching for the gun strapped around my thigh, but he warned, "Don't move, Anastasia!" I sighed softly as I took a few steps forward. "Ethan-" Reaching into his waistband, he stuck out his arm, and a loud snap echoed around me. "Don't fucking move!" The pistol was trembling in his hand, but his finger remained on the trigger. I swallowed nervously while keeping my hands where he could see them. "Please," I began, approaching him as slowly as possible. "Just listen to me, Ethan…" "I said don't move! Stay over there!" he screamed. His eyes were raw and red, and I could see the tear stains on his cheek as I stood across from him. What on earth happened to him? "Why?" he cried out. "Why did you come out here?! You shouldn't have followed me! You shouldn't have left, Ana!" I hesitated for a minute before proceeding. "But I did," I told him. "I did it because I trust you, Ethan," I lied. "And I need you to trust me too. Please, I'm begging you. Put the gun down." "Well, you shouldn't trust me, Ana," he scoffed dryly. He wiped his cheek frantically with the back of his hand. "You weren't supposed to come out here. Neither one of you was supposed to come out here! You should have fucking stayed inside with Dante! Was that so hard for you?!" I couldn't understand what the hell he was talking about, and I couldn't be bothered to. Not with a fucking gun pointed straight at me. "That painting was the last you were supposed to see of me! The last you would hear from me!" he snapped. "It was a goodbye," I mumbled in realization. But a goodbye wasn't fucking good enough… Ethan desperately needed help, and he would only get it if he surrendered. If not, he'd be fucking shot at sight by the authorities. "You know we can help you," I told him calmly, "I just need you to trust me, to trust Dante…" He began shaking his head. "I can't. I can't do it. I can never escape him; he won't let me." "Anastasia!" I looked over just in time to see Dante running past the gates and straight to me. He grabbed me by the arms and lifted one hand to take my face. "Are you okay?" he asked desperately. "Are you hurt anywhere? God, don't ever do that again! Don't even run out on me. Never turn your back on me like that, please!" He pulled me into his chest almost immediately, keeping one hand on the back of my head. I clutched onto him tightly as a sigh of relief heaved my chest. "Dante," I mumbled, "he's…" We pulled away and turned to face him. What I saw next left me completely baffled. Never in my entire life had I ever seen a person acting the way Ethan was. No one… except Isaiah Morales. He mumbled things to himself, just like his father did. He smacked the side of his own head several times like he was knocking sense into himself. He kept repeating, "No, I won't. I won't." But he wasn't talking to himself… he was talking to his father; he was talking to the monster's voice festering in his mind. "We need to go," Dante said to me, taking my hand. "Nathan called the cops. We need to get out of here, Anastasia. We're the only ones in danger right now." I was wary of leaving Ethan in that state with an entire crowd inside of that building. It went against everything I was taught as an agent, but I had never been more afraid of dying or losing Dante. At that moment, I just wanted us to get out of there and away from him. "Let's go," I breathed out. I heard him cock the pistol. "I said don't fucking move, you two!" Ethan shouted at the top of his lungs. "How many fucking times do I have to say it, Dante?!" Dante took a breath, steadying himself. "Ethan, listen to me-" "Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, or I'll blow her fucking brains out, right here, right now, I swear to God!" "Do you hear yourself?" Dante asked him, taking a step forward. My brows furrowed in confusion as I reached for him. "Dante-" Ignoring me, he took another step forward, and that's when the dread began pooling in my stomach. "Don't move, or I'll shoot!" Ethan warned. "Dante, stop!" I called out. "You're becoming what you hated," Dante said to Ethan, "you're becoming the monster he wanted to make you." "Shut up!" Ethan demanded. "Don't give in to it, Ethan," Dante told him. With a hand still trembling, Ethan took a step to the side and met my eyes. "He always says should have killed you," he said to me. "Ethan, don't do it," Dante warned, slowly returning to me. "Don't you fucking move!" Ethan yelled. "Don't do it!" Dante repeated. "You'll be just like him!" "Shut up!" "You'll end up the way he did if you do it!" "I said shut up!" "The voices won't stop, Ethan! Just let us help you!" "I said shut the fuck up!" When Ethan's eyes snapped to mine, and his grip on the gun shifted… I knew. The dread growing in the pits of my stomach wasn't for no reason. I felt my heart drop as his aim shifted to my body. He was too far gone to bring back now. He'd snapped. He'd completely lost himself in the insanity brewing in his mind. He couldn't be saved… and neither could I. "If he killed you, he'd still be here," Ethan said to me, "and I wouldn't be this way, Anastasia. It's because of you. It's all because of you!" The deafening gunshot echoed everywhere, ringing in my ears. My entire body went numb. I couldn't comprehend anything, I couldn't even breathe, and I didn't even realize how tightly I closed my eyes. My hand instinctively shot out to touch my stomach, and when I opened my eyes, I expected to look down and see my own blood coating my palms. But when I returned to my senses, I felt a shifting, stumbling weight over me. My eyes snapped open and complete horror set in. I caught him as he stumbled forward, clutching his abdomen. "Dante…" I said fearfully. It wasn't until I felt the blood soaking through his shirt and into my own dress that I realized… I wasn't shot… because Dante took the bullet for me… and it was his blood all over me. . . . . . Chapter 42