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I met Aria’s mother when I came to visit her one of the first times, and Elena’s been an angel in disguise, making sure that Andrew doesn’t catch wind of my visits. Dimitri had my back, too.
They’re a solid family—except for her corpse father, of course.
“I couldn’t stand not seeing you, Aria.”
“What about Andrew?” she asks, glancing nervously at the door.
“Don’t worry about him.”
She jerks her hand away from mine. “How, Dion? He’s been here to see me. He still wants to get married!”
“That won’t take him very far. Everyone is dead. He has no back-up, and your brother has things under control,” I reply.
“He won’t let me go that easily, Dion,” she mutters. “Not if the pact was sealed in blood.”
“You’re right.” I remain at the foot of her hospital bed, my gaze turning serious. “But there’s something else you should know.”
“What is it?” Aria shifts, wincing as pain shoots through her. I stop myself from reaching for her, afraid to make it worse.
“Right after your engagement, someone tried to kill me.”
Her fingers grip the thin hospital blanket. “What?”
“My Ducati was rigged with an explosive.”
Aria’s breath hitches.
“It was Andrew,” I continue, my gaze unwavering as I watch her process this. “So, I threatened to kill him if I ever saw him again.”
Aria swallows hard. “I wish I’d known.”
I let out a sigh, stepping closer to the bed. “I didn’t want to worry you, especially with everything else going on. And…we weren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
Tears well up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dion.”
I sit next to her and grab her hands, placing a kiss on one of them. “Don’t be, astéri mou. None of this is your fault. No matter what happens, it’s not your fault. I’ll take care of everything.”
Aria looks up to the ceiling, blinking to clear her tears. “That’s why he’s been scarce, leaving town for weeks, sometimes months…”
I nod, jaw clenched. “I’d be surprised if he actually does decide to proceed with the wedding, knowing he has a target on his back.”
And if he does, I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands.
43
ARIA
Recovery is not going well.
I mean, physically, I’m making strides. My injuries are on their way to healing. I was allowed to come back home, Dr. Grant satisfied with my progress.
Mentally, though, I’m struggling.
I truly wish my brain would kick rocks. It’s like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
My body feels numb, and the only thing keeping me sane is the pain medication I’ve been abusing. It blurs reality, making it easier to cope.
For a little while, the ache is bearable.
