stomach, stunning me that it isn’t as painful as anticipated.
That could have more to do with the fact the man I love shot me.
He. Shot. Me.
“No!” Dimitri falls to my side as quickly as he screams for Smith on repeat. “Stay with me, Roxanne… Smith!”
As I peer up at the ceiling, I gargle on the blood bubbling in my windpipe. Death is more peaceful than I predicted. It isn’t filled with gore and horror. It’s quiet and surreal, somewhat warm, or is that the blood seeping into my clothes?
“I swear to God, Roxanne, if you don’t fight, I’ll tan your fucking ass. By the time I’m done with you, your ass will be bleeding more than a little bullet wound.”
I shouldn’t laugh, the pain it causes is horrific, but it can’t be helped. Just like Estelle searches for humor in every situation, Dimitri seeks darkness.
As my breaths shiver in the coolness enveloping me, I reach out to touch Dimitri’s face, startling when my briefest touch smears his cheek with blood. I must be bleeding a lot because my hands were nowhere near my stomach before I moved them.
“What the fuck were you doing here, Roxanne? You were meant to stay away. That’s the only way I could guarantee your safety,” Dimitri mutters as he pushes on my stomach so painfully, I cry out. “I’ve got to hurt you, baby. If I don’t hurt you, you’ll die. You don’t want to die, do you? You’re too fucking strong to die now… Roxanne… Roxie... Rox…”
Dimitri slaps me two times—hard. He isn’t meaning to hurt me. He’s merely doing everything in his power to force my head out of the black cloud it’s sinking into. “Fuck, Smith, hurry. We’re losing her.”
The absolute pain in his voice almost drags me out of the dark. I fight with everything I have, but the pull is too strong. I’m sinking into the abyss faster than my woozy head can keep up with. I barely get ‘I love you’ out before the blackness swamping me takes over the reins. Still, I swear somewhere between my float from reality to a much darker realm, Dimitri responds, “As do I, Roxanne. As do I.”
37
Dimitri
“How the fuck does a woman with a bullet wound get out of your city without you knowing about it?”
Henry doesn’t get the chance to reply. My fist breaks through the drywall behind his head long before a syllable leaves his lips. I’m pissed, peeved as fuck, and since the person responsible for the anguish eating me alive isn’t in my reign, I’m taking it out on the wrong person.
“She tried to kill my daughter and wife…” It feels like the final strand of the thread I’m clutching unravels when I force out, “I don’t even know if she succeeded with Roxanne yet.”
She’s fighting—my fucking God is she fighting—but it’s touch and go. The medics lost her twice during her transport to the hospital. If it weren’t for Rocco and me holding our guns to their heads, they would have given up on her. They said she was clinically dead, that she was in cessation.
I didn’t give a fuck what they called it, I wanted them to give her a chance to show she’s stronger than her tiny frame and ageless face portrays. I wanted them to give her a chance to prove them wrong because if she can’t do that, I’m dead too.
It was the jarring of my arm when I adjusted my fall to ensure Fien wouldn’t get hurt that caused me to misfire. My bullet pierced through Roxanne’s stomach, so if anyone is going to pay restitution for my error, it will be me.
Assuming my silence stems from believing he is incompetent, Henry says, “I have men combing every inch of my city looking for India. If she’s still here, they’ll find her.”
The confidence in his comment should offer me some sort of comfort.
It doesn’t.
Not in the slightest.
“What if she’s already left?”
“Then we will find out where she’s going and beat her there,” Henry immediately fires back like he already considered the possibility our search for India will be longer than I’m hoping.
I rake my fingers through my hair, knowing it won’t be as easy as it sounds, but hopeful I’ve been put through enough to ease Karma’s nasty bite. India is smart, she has plenty of money at her disposal, and convincing-enough looks to make men disregard her hideous insides. She’s a foreign version of Theresa.
“I have all my men on this,