Chapter 9 - The Safehouse in the Dark
My vision blurred at the edges as the terrifying reality of the bullet wound finally registered in my brain.
"Mateo," I whispered weakly, my knees instantly buckling beneath me as a wave of severe dizziness hit.
Mateo caught me before I hit the dirt floor, his eyes widening in absolute panic when he saw the blood soaking my dress.
He cursed viciously in Italian, scooping me effortlessly into his strong arms and sprinting down the dark tunnel.
I faded in and out of consciousness, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek as he carried me through the underground maze.
When I finally opened my eyes again, we were no longer in the dirty smuggling tunnels.
We were in a pristine, dimly lit modern apartment overlooking the glittering Chicago skyline.
Mateo laid me gently onto a massive leather sofa, his tuxedo jacket completely discarded and his white shirt stained with my blood.
He grabbed a trauma kit from the bathroom and returned, his hands shaking slightly as he cut the ruined silk dress away from my shoulder.
"The bullet went clean through, Tessa, you are going to be okay," Mateo promised, his voice thick with raw, unfiltered emotion.
He aggressively packed the wound with medical gauze, his jaw clenched tightly as I hissed and squirmed from the intense pain.
"I am so sorry I dragged you into this hell," Mateo whispered, pressing a clean bandage firmly against my skin.
"I don't care about the mafia war, Mateo, we just have to save Sarah," I pleaded, tears of pain and desperation leaking from my eyes.
"I will kill Lorenzo myself, I swear it to you," Mateo vowed, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
He sat on the floor beside the sofa, refusing to leave my side as I shivered from the blood loss and shock.
I reached out with my good arm, tracing the dark, intimidating tattoos that peeked out from beneath his rolled-up sleeves.
"Why did you really come to the restaurant every night?" I asked softly, needing to hear the complete truth.
Mateo looked up at me, his steely gray eyes completely stripped of their usual arrogant armor.
"I went there the first night to observe the enemy bloodline, but I kept coming back because I became completely obsessed with you," Mateo confessed.
My heart fluttered despite the pain, a deep, undeniable connection forging permanently between us in the quiet dark of the safehouse.
We survived the horrific night in each other's arms, the dangerous mafia boss holding the fragile waitress like she was his most precious treasure.
The silence of the safehouse was suddenly shattered by the harsh, vibrating ring of Mateo's cell phone resting on the glass coffee table.
Mateo answered it, putting the call on speakerphone so we could both hear the threat.
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"I have your father, Mateo," Dante's cruel voice echoed through the room.
"Bring the Romano girl to Lorenzo's warehouse in ten minutes, or I will put a bullet in Salvatore's skull on live television."
