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“I called Arlo,” he whispered. “I didn’t know how much trouble or what you were up against.” He wished it hadn't been this.
Viktor’s phone rang, and reluctantly, he looked away from me to answer the call. “I’m here.” He nodded. “He’s alive.” He nodded once again. “The front door is open.”
Just as he ended the call, the front door opened and shut with a bang.
Arlo.
“Ilias.” Viktor looked over Davina, who continued to stare off, before sliding his gaze back to me. “You know I’ll always have your back. You know that, right, brat?”
Even if Viktor did, there was nothing he could do.
“Cazzo.” Fuck, Arlo muttered as he stood on the last step. “Fuck!” he shouted this time, running his hands over his face. Davina twitched from his outburst and stood closer behind me. “And who the fuck is she, and why is she left alive?”
My body tensed at his words, and Davina’s gaze fell.
“Arlo––”
He cut me off quickly, eyes blazing. “Don’t!” Arlo began. “Don’t fucking try to Arlo me when there’s two dead bodies on the floor. Not any fucking regular citizens, but two of ours. With a witness right behind you.” Arlo pulled out his gun.
I didn’t flinch. Arlo was a master of fear, but he wasn’t trying to inflict it on me, his victim was Davina. And it was working.
“Are you done?” I asked.
Arlo shook his head frustrated and nudged Ugo’s dead body with his black boot. “You better start talking, because this," he pointed his gun toward the body, "This will be worse than death, fratello. There’s an empty clip on his body. You can't even argue self-defense when you could’ve stopped at the first bullet.” His eyes twisted, trying to look behind me.
Thankfully, Davina didn’t twitch at his words.
Viktor cut the silence. “We can’t trust a cleaner with this. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”
“It’ll have to wait,” Arlo said, taking a deep breath as his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked over at Viktor and nodded my way. “By the way he is leaning to his left and the fresh blood staining his shirt, he needs to be stitched up.”
Viktor’s gaze shot to my abdomen, and Davina moved away from her hiding spot to stand before me.
They both took her in; Viktor with curiosity, Arlo with distaste.
Davina tugged on my shirt and hissed when she saw the opened wound. We all stood still as Davina walked toward the dresser. With a shirt in her hands, my brows furrowed in confusion until she pressed the material against the cut, adding pressure. Her fingers grabbed my hand, placing it over the shirt.
“Keep applying pressure.” Davina looked up to me, her eyes roaming around my hair.
What the fuck was she looking for now?
She took a couple of steps around me until her delicate fingers brushed my hair away from the back of my head. I pulled away from her touch as it caused discomfort from the hit I'd received, then she was back in front of me.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
I did, seeing pale skin and dark circles that adorned her eyes. She squinted, and dried blood creased in the corners from the blow of Ugo’s pistol. Then I understood. My heart constricted at her attention to assure I was okay. I dared to glance over at my brothers. They too looked baffled as the scene had played out before them. Viktor’s lips lifted on the corners, amused, and Arlo's head craned to the side.
“Davina, I’m fine,” I uttered holding her face with my free hand.
“I think you have a mild concussion,” she judged.
“Concussions are for pussies. Now, if you are done playing nurse, we need to leave and get him patched up,” Arlo said, taking a step back.
Davina turned to face him. “Any concussion is to be treated carefully. He needs to go to a hospital and get checked out,” she said with strength and balled fists.
“Have you taken a look around, ragazza?” Arlo chuckled darkly, and I knew after calling her girl, his patience was running thin.
“Stop,” I said in Russian.
