Chapter 12 - The Dragon's Shield
The utility corridor led us deep into the bowels of the estate, far away from the exterior walls.
Dante navigated the dark passages with the ease of a man who had designed this labyrinth himself.
We eventually emerged into an underground medical bay, a sterile white room equipped with surgical lights and steel tables.
"Sit," Dante instructed, pointing to a comfortable leather recliner in the corner.
I sank into the chair, exhaustion hitting me like a physical blow.
Leo, completely drained by the adrenaline and the cold, had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep in my arms.
Dante walked over to a metal cabinet, pulling out a heavy trauma kit and throwing it onto a nearby table.
It was only then that I noticed the dark, spreading stain on the left side of his white shirt.
"You're bleeding," I gasped, my heart stuttering in my chest.
Dante looked down at his side as if the gunshot wound was merely an inconvenience.
"A graze from a ricochet at the gate," he muttered, unbuttoning his shirt with stiff, awkward fingers.
"It is nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing," I argued, gently laying the sleeping baby onto a small cot and covering him with a blanket.
I walked over to the sterile sink, washing my trembling hands with antibacterial soap before turning to face him.
Dante had discarded his ruined shirt, exposing a torso heavily scarred from a lifetime of violence and completely covered in dark, intricate ink.
The dragon on his hand coiled all the way up his arm, wrapping around his shoulder and resting its head over his heart.
I picked up a sterile gauze pad and a bottle of antiseptic, stepping into his personal space.
"Let me help you," I insisted, my voice surprisingly steady.
Dante looked at me, his jaw clenching, but he did not pull away.
As I cleaned the shallow bullet wound on his ribs, my knuckles brushed against his warm skin.
A violent shiver racked his massive frame, completely unrelated to the pain of the wound.
"Why did you really stay, Mara?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"I told you, I couldn't abandon Leo to the Volkovs."
"You could have," Dante challenged, his dark eyes pinning me in place.
"Alexei offered you a way out, a way back to your mother, and you chose to step back into the cage."
I taped a thick bandage over his ribs, taking a deliberate step back to put some distance between us.
"Because the cage isn't what terrifies me anymore," I admitted, the truth slipping out before I could stop it.
"What terrifies you, then?" he pushed, stepping closer to me until my back hit the cold metal cabinet.
"That my sister was a monster," I whispered, staring up at the dangerous man who was supposed to be my enemy.
"And that the man who was supposed to be the villain is the only one trying to protect me."
Dante raised his uninjured hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw.
"In my world, Mara, there are no heroes," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek.
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"There are only monsters who choose to protect what belongs to them."
He leaned in, and for one terrifying, electrifying second, I thought he was going to kiss me.
