I leaned down , and pressed my mouth to his . Blood to blood.
Alessio didn't move at first. To week. Then his hand came up , fisted in my hair and he kissed me back. Hard . Possessive . Like he was branding me in front of a cop and God and the machines keeping him alive.
The cop made a sound. Disgust or shock , I didn't care .
Alessio broke it . Breathing ragged . Eyes black . " Get out " he told the cop . " My wife and I are busy ,"
" Sir, I need–"
" Now ." Alessio's voice could cut steel . Even dying. " Or I call my lawyer. And then I call your captain. And thebpn you're directing traffic in Staten Island until you die . "
The cop left . Door slammed.
Alessio dropped his head back.
Exhausted. " Lock it . "
I did . Then I went back to him . My mouth still tasted like him . Like copper and war .
" You shouldn't have done that ," I said . " Kissing me. You will tear your stitches. "
" You shouldn't have kept my blood on your mouth for three hours. " His hand found mine again. Threaded our fingers. " We're even."
Silence. Just the machines. Beep . Beep . Beep .
" You know my name now ," he said after a while . " Alessio Kade De Luca. Use it . "
" Alessio." It felt weird. Too intimate . Too real . " Your father –"
" Is alive. For now . " His jaw locked . " Morettis won't kill him . They want me . They want you . He's bait . "
" Then we get him . "
" We ." He smiled. No blood this time . Just pain . " You said we ."
The lights flickered . Once . Twice .
Alessio went still . Every muscle locked . " Get down . "
" What ?"
" Down . Now . "
The door kicked in .
Two men. Black masks . Silencers . Not cops .
Alessio moved before I could scream. He ripped the IV out of his arm , grabbed the metal stand , and threw it . It hit the first man in the chest . He went down .
The second man raised his gun . At me.
I didn't think . I grabbed the gun from Alessio's bedside table – the one he took off the Moretti in the alley – and fired .
Once . Twice .
The man dropped.
Silence again .
Except louder now . Ringing . Gunpowder .
Alessio was staring at me . Not at the bodies. At me . " Two ," he said . Quite . Proud . " You're catching up ."
I dropped the gun . My hands were shaking now . They hadn't before . " They found us . "
" They always do ." He swung his legs off the bed . Stood . Swayed . Stayed up . "Hospital's not safe. We leave . Now . "
" You can't even walk ."
" Watch me ." He took one step . Another. His face went white . " Get my pants . Closet . And the bag . Bottom shelf . "
I ran to the closet . Black duffel . Heavy . Unzipped it . Cash . Passports . More guns . Burners phones .
He was pulling on pants over the hospital gown . Slow . Painful. But doing it .
An alarm started screaming down the hall . Code Silver. Active shooter .
" Time's up ," Alessio said . He grabbed the duffel , tossed it to me . Then he took my hand . His grip was iron again . No weakness. Just will . " We run ."
We ran .
Down the fire stairs . Past screaming nurses. Past a security guard who saw Alessio's face and let us pass . De Luca name meant something , even bleeding.
The car was still out front . Keys in the ignition. Stupid of me . Lucky for us .
I drove. Alessio rode shotgun , gun in his lap , head back ,eyes closed. But not asleep. Never asleep .
" Where?" I asked. GPS was dead . Phones off ." Where to go?"
I gripped the wheel until my knuckles went white . The hospital was already a shrinking blur behind us . My heart hadn't slowed since the first gunshot. It probably never would again.
" Alessio," I said . My voice shook . I hated that I shook. " You are bleeding. Again. "
His shirt was soaked . The stitches had definitely torn . Blood seeped through the white gauze , spreading like spilled wine . He didn't even flinch .
" Good," he rasped. " Means I'm alive ."
" That's not –" I swallowed. "That's not how that works ."
He laughed. Actually laughed. It turned into a cough, wet and painful , but his mouth was still curved when he looked at me . " It is for me , principessa . De Lucas don't die in hospital beds . We die in the street . With guns . Or we do not die."
" Stop talking like that ." The wipers smeared rain accross the windshield. I couldn't tell if it was rain or blood from my hands . " Where exactly is ' home '? Your penthouse? The warehouse? Because Morettis know all of those ."
" Not those homes." He shifted , winced , and pulled the gun up to check the clip . Methodical. Even half-dead , Alessio Kade De Luca was a soldier first. " Safe house . North . Noone knows it . Not my father. Not my men . Not you . Until now . "
That should have terrified me . Another secret. Another cage . Instead , something warm and dangerous curled in my chest . Trust. He was trusting me .
" Why? I whispered. " Why tell me now ?"
His fingers brushed my knee . Just for a second . A brand . " Because you shot a man for me five minutes ago . Because you said ' we ' . Because you tasted my blood and didn't run . " He swallowed. " And because if I die tonight , I want you to know where to bury me ."
My breath hitched. " Don't you dare ."
" Then don't let me ." His eyes were black fire in the dashboard lights . " Keep driving. Don't stop for red lights . Don't stop for cops . Don't stop unless I say ."
I nodded. I didn't trust my voice.
The city blurred past . Sirens wailed something behind us . Getting closer . Or maybe that was the ringing in my ears . My hands were steady now. They hadn't been when I picked up the gun .But they were now . Two men dead . By my hand . Because of him . For him .
He opened his eyes . Looked at me . At my mouth. Blood still there . His blood . My blood now .
" Home ," he said . " We go home , principessa. And then we end this ."
The rearview mirror filled with the black SUVs . Three of them . " Alessio," I whispered. " We have got company tonight."