Femme Fatale Reloaded (Pericolo #2)

I pretended to be asleep when they all came back home. I heard my door open, whispered, hushed voices spoke between them as they decided I was sound asleep and I was left alone again. Not long after that, I did drift off, but now I’m awake with the intense pain radiating in my leg from the stab wound Pippa delivered.

I throw back my covers, and immediately through the moonlight, I see my bed stained with red and force myself toward the edge of my bed. I look down at my thigh and notice the bandage I applied was never going to help when I’d haphazardly stuck it in place.

Well, if this is all I’m taking away from my first fight with karma, I guess I should start counting my lucky fucking stars now.

I force myself to stand, the feat itself excruciating, and I look at the blackened outline of my bathroom door. Through the darkness, I know this is going to be a killer walk, but I stumble my way forward, slamming my hand onto the light switch to emblazon the room with artificial light. I hitch my foot onto the closed toilet and try to logically think of where to start with this. I know I should call for help, but what’s the point? I can do this alone.

“Crap,” I curse, as I begin to peel the tape away from holding the shoddy plaster in place.

“Amelia.” Enzo’s hushed tone cracks through the silence in my bathroom, and I freeze. “I knew I shouldn’t have just let you leave earlier.”

“I’m fine,” I say, and continue to lift the stupid plaster from my thigh. “Nothing a quick clean-up won’t solve.”

“Let me see,” Enzo says, trying to get a look at my leg.

I shake my head, not willing to accept help easily. “Why are you up anyway?” I ask coldly, hoping my hostility toward him will make him leave. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he counters, disregarding my off behavior. I could tell he hadn’t been asleep by the way his voice traveled so clearly. “I knew you were hurt, but I also know how much self-preservation you have, so I stayed but only to cover for you with the others. When I came home and found you asleep, I decided to leave you, but I haven’t managed to catch a wink of sleep since.” He gives me a sympathetic look when I look at him. “When I heard movement, I knew it was you.”

“I’m okay,” I admonish, my voice so small I’m amazed it even traveled through the dead air.

Enzo steps into the room, and I know that once again, my savior is here to see through the masks and facades I wrap so vehemently around myself. “Far from it, Lia,” he tells me, his tone such a gentle note that I know that finally I’m getting the father I always wait for from Salvatore.

It’s as his hand comes to touch my arm and I’m braced with physical contact that the cracks I’ve been clinging onto throb and all the ties I’ve used to hold myself together begin to break. I shatter and I’m finally entering my freefall, but now I’m too weak to fly.

I know it’s time to ask for help. I can no longer do this on my own.

I sigh, knowing I’m not going to get away with this anymore. Taking a deep breath, I begin to turn on the spot, bringing my leg down, trying hard not to jolt my leg and cause more pain to it. I remove my hand from my thigh, my own blood staining its palm, and prepare myself to look up at my brother.

“Your leg,” he gasps, horror lacing around him. Immediately, he’s on his knees before me, inspecting the still bleeding wound. I trust Enzo to care for me, after years of being one of the leads in this family, he’s picked up a thing or two about treating scrapes, grazes, cuts. “Fuck, Lia. You shouldn’t have left this. You shouldn’t have hidden this!”

“It barely went in,” I comment softly, looking up at the ceiling as he suddenly pushes one of my luxury bathroom towels to my leg. “It’s not the worst thing to have happened to me.”

“It’s the worst thing right now,” he tells me, his voice now gruff with worry. “I’m going to go downstairs and grab the first aid kit and we’ll get you cleaned up.” He stands, taking the towel away and begins to lead me back to my bed, his arms wrapped around me as if he knows I’m just too fragile to master one short distance alone. “Sit.”

He leaves but not until he plants a kiss onto the top of my head.

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