Fiery Revenge⎪✓

95

☀︎

Forcing myself not to drag my feet ruefully across the floor, I conceal my emotions the second I recognize Xavier on the sterile hospital bed. His face is painfully swollen, dark bruises coating his beautiful skin. Tubes are hooked to his body, administering fluid in extreme amounts to the unconscious man in front of me. 

My heart squeezes, the need to draw for breath grows in me. 

"I'll give you some privacy," Marc speaks slowly and leaves me in here, closing the door behind him. 

After a second of indecision, I find myself inching closer to Xavier, grabbing his familiar hand in my own. My eyes sting with the promise of tears, but I force myself to swallow it down. He is the only one I'm allowed to feel this way about, but I still won't show it on the outside. Not to anyone, but him. 

"You fucking asino," (donkey) I chuckle gloomily, sitting down next to him on the soft mattress. "You're supposed to be heartless, Xavier. You shouldn't give a damn about a stranger being raped, for fucks sake."

I know my words are spoken in helplessness, the fear of his fate almost brings me to my knees. Xavier would be the one to stop something like that, he does care about women. After our attack in the underground, he was the most joyful when those captured women were returned to their families. It was the first time I saw him that fucking happy. 

The silence I'm confronted with is deafening.

His long eyelashes caress his injured cheeks, the black tint coating his right eyebrow must sting like an absolute bitch. Those fuckers did him so bad. Somewhere within me, there's a particular hatred awakening again. Hatred for the man I killed not even 24 hours ago, hatred for the man I once called my father. 

I hate him. 

He hurt and injured the only person I truly care about, the only person I search out to feel safe, to be myself. Being strong is my proudest trait to the outside world, it will always be like that. Towards Xavier though, my proudest trait is to be open and vulnerable in front of him, I trust him.

Brushing my finger gently over his tattoos, I pull myself out of the hole I'm in. The pity isn't a good look on me, it's quite pathetic in fact. 

Grabbing my phone, I dial the number and wait for him to pick up. 

"Hello," His deep voice grumbles. 

"Roman," I acknowledge one of the trusted ones. "Can you do a background check on Maxon Martinelli? I need to find some of the men behind his organization, all of them need to die."

He sighs in a worn manner, "Eloisa, Maxon probably had hundreds of men scattered around, they'll move onto another leader now when he's dead. Shouldn't we leave it-"

"Fuck no," I speak slowly, cutting him off. "Get someone to do the fucking investigation."

Hanging up on the phone, I dial the next number on my list and hope for an answer. Anything to keep my mind distracted from the man in front of me.

"Eloisa?" His familiar voice cuts through the line and I can feel my body unwinding. 

"Hi, Rocco. How are you?" 

"Long time no see," He chuckles. "I'm great. Overheard something about the mafia taking down the entire rink of dealers."

"Yeah, that was an experience, to say the least," I find myself smiling softly. 

"Glad to know you're alive though," The honesty has me appreciating him even more. "Will I get to know all the scandalous details of you not dying then?"

Proceeding to tell him everything that has happened in that period of time is exhausting, but his entertaining side comments truly do awaken me again. Rocco has been a constant in my life for a couple of years now, putting up with all of my crap, he is an incredibly important person to me. It's about time I show him my gratitude. 

"Your father was a dickhead," He scoffs. 

"Can't argue with straight facts," I admit. 

Movement next to me has me excusing myself quickly and hanging up on the phone. Xavier's eyes flutter open, before closing again, my heart pounds in my chest. A dark groan emits from his frame and I squeeze his hand slightly, this appears to awaken him when his eyes flutter again, this time opening and finding mine. 

Relief shoots through my stomach when our eyes meet, the exhaustion and pain hide in his, making me feel completely terrible. 

"Eloisa," He croaks, his worn voice tugging at my stomach. 

"Xavier," I sigh in peace. 

His eyes cut to the water bottle on the table, I release my hand from his and grab it instantly. Opening it for him, he takes it from me and drinks half of it, clearly needing the water more than anything else. The alleviation spreads to every part of my body, distracting me from the pain in my own wound, simply allowing my focus to be on him. 

I have never felt this relieved in my life, never have I felt that stone of relief everyone spoke of. But right now, that exact stone is released from my constricted heart and I feel like I can breathe again. 

He's alive.

The terror of losing him catches up to me, I bring his hand to my lips and leave a kiss on his wounded knuckles. His other hand raises and he trails his finger tenderly along my jaw, the affectionate stare in his dark eyes has my heart pounding in my chest. 

Flutters dance in my stomach at being here with him, after everything that went down in that warehouse and both of our surgeries. Me losing my goddamn mind on Oriana. Everything comes crumbling down, the pressure steadily evaporating from my frame and allowing me to be here with him, in this exact moment. 

He gently grabs my cheeks with both his hands and urges me down to him, kissing my forehead slowly and lingering on that spot. My heart pounds in my chest, my eyes fluttering closed. 

"We're okay now, amore," He whispers hoarsely against my skin before kissing my forehead again. "You're okay. Fuck, you had me worried when you showed up at the warehouse."

"Stiamo bene," (We're good) I whisper with a slow nod. "I should probably tell the doctors you've woken up."

His eyes meet mine, the limited distance between our faces has my eyes falling onto his lips. "Or you could kiss me?"

I chuckle at that, grabbing his cheeks and leaning in, leaving a simple kiss on his lips. He groans and throws his head onto the pillow. "I'm going to get a doctor, Xavier, don't fall asleep on me again."

He smirks at me, "Yes ma'am."

"No. Don't call me that, it makes me feel old," I chuckle and leave the room, ignoring his deep and rich laughter at my expense.