Page 95 of Wicked Mafia Beast
Rafael approaches, his suit still crisp despite the hour, his dark eyes sweeping from Onyx in my arms to the blood soaking through my field dressings to Seamus slumped against the wall still clutching his throat like a fucking pussy. Rafael takes it all in with a single measured look and nods once.
"She good?" His voice is low, pitched for my ears only.
"She's good." I tighten my arm around her. "She punched Seamus before I got here. She’s a fighter."
The corner of Rafael's mouth lifts. He looks at Onyx with an expression that falls somewhere between admiration and amusement. "That's our girl." He winks at her and the future of our motley family of fighters, assassins and ruthless mafia men flashes across my mind.
We’re going to be okay. I know it.
"Let's hand these fuckers over to the men at Genesis." I shift Onyx against my chest, my jaw tight, my eyes cutting to Seamus and then Declan. "I'd like to have a long conversation with the Malone men later. When I've had some sleep and my woman isn't bleeding."
Rafael claps my good shoulder, careful of the wounds, his grip firm and warm. "Consider it done, brother. Take her home. We'll handle the rest."
I turn to Onyx, "Can you walk?" I ask against her hair. Onyx nuzzles into me, her face pressing deeper against my chest, and the trust in that gesture tightens my throat. I swear viciously under my breath at the circumstances we’re in. I never wanted her to live even a day of violence.
Her brows do a cute scrunch. "Of course I can walk."
I pick her up anyway. She protests, slapping my good shoulder, but her arms wrap around my neck and she doesn't actually fight it. I carry her through the warehouse, past the bodies, the loading dock, and past the guard still unconscious near the entrance.
"You know you don't have to carry me," she murmurs against my neck, her breath warm on my skin. From this day forward I will consider every sensation and emotion a blessing. I could have lost all this, but by some miracle we are still breathing. That's enough for now. "You've been wounded. I can walk," she tries again, but there's little fight to her efforts.
"And yet you're not fighting me on it."
"I'm tired, Kon. Not stupid." She tightens her arms around my neck and presses her lips against the pulse point below my ear. "Take me home."
A crackle of energy pops and hisses between us I can’t wait to cash in on. Later. Once the pain stops.
Luca has the SUV running and waiting for us. He takes one look at Onyx in my arms and his expression shifts from operational focus to genuine relief, his tight expression relaxing. He opens the back door without a word.
I set her in the back seat and slide in beside her. She immediately tucks herself against my good side, her head finding the hollow of my shoulder, her hand resting on my chest over the roses.
The city scrolls past the tinted windows. Streetlights and traffic and the ordinary pulse of a world that kept spinning while mine nearly ended.
"Kon?"
"Mm."
"I deleted the Syndicate file. Before the attack. Before Brennan came through the door." Her voice is quiet, muffled against my shoulder. "I want you to know that."
"I know." I press my lips to the top of her head. "We'll talk about it later. When we're both cleaned up and neither of us is bleeding."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She's asleep within minutes, her body going slack against mine, her breathing deepening, her fingers curling into the fabric of my ruined shirt. The bullet graze on her temple has stopped bleeding but the dried blood in her dark hair catches the passing streetlights in dull flashes of red.
My garden is destroyed. My home is wrecked. The woman I love has a bullet wound on her head and I've got holes in my arm and my side and my knuckles are split to the bone.
And I have never been happier in my entire life.
Because she's alive. She loves me. She's coming home.
And this time, I'm never letting go.
Nineteen
Kon
