Dark Souls

65.the girl with the red dragon tattoo

KAT's POV

You are not that kind of woman, Kat," I try to convince myself as I look at my dark and tired eyes in the car's visor, "You're not going to get out of this car and make a goddamn scene cause you don't have the damn time."

I grunt, tugging on the wet hair on top of my head with both hands.

I flick my eyes to the heavy rain falling outside.

Who are you kidding, Kat? You have all the time in the world to be a toxic psychopath.

I close my eyes, hitting my head softly against the headrest and giving the sound of the raindrops falling against the car's roof a chance to soothe the sadness combined with irritation that's bubbling through my veins now.

Could he really be such a narcissistic asshole that he actually brought me here to wait outside for him while he goes meet with whomever Martina is?

"What the fuck, Wolf, what the fuck!" I start throwing punches in the air and whining in frustration, "Why are you such a son of a bitch! Ugh!"

Kat, you need to calm down cause you can't keep having these conversations with your crazy self, my subconscious mutters, a bottle of Xanax in her hand.

Everything was better than fine an hour ago and now everything has changed...

The worst part is that I don't even know why.

I chew on my lower lip, my hand automatically wandering to the door handle.

Don't do it, Kat, don't do it...

I pull my hand away slowly, only to place it back on it.

Kat....my subconscious adds in a stern voice.

Oh, come on, just one tiny peek.

Wolf's POV

I quietly step inside Martina's room.

The only noise is that coming from the raindrops thudding against the window panes and the creaking ceiling fan. Shit, I needed to tell Victor to change that.

I slightly cringe my nose at the strong smell of menthol, as I lean sideways against the doorway and cross my arms over my chest. Observing.

I let my muscles relax, feeling relieved to see Martina awake.

She's in her bed, sitting against its wooden headboard with a lost look on her weary face.

Dr. Faccio, who is our private doctor for Martina and the Cimorelli Chateau, is quietly talking to her as the new nurse, which I suppose is Nurse Troy, gives her a massage on her bruised leg and swollen ankle with a methyl salicylate ointment. None of them have noticed my presence yet, and I can't catch a glimpse of Nurse Troy's face because she's giving her back to me.

Where the fuck was she when Martina fell?

She proceeds to grab a pillow and gently rests Martina's foot on top to elevate the injury, skillfully massaging it to help the blood flow.

Martina's eyes find mine. She studies me for a second and when she finally recognizes me her eyes light up.

Occasions like this were rare. She was almost never lucid anymore. She mostly confuses me with my father and lashes out at me, or thinks that I'm me, but a much younger version.

"Cillian," she croaks with a relieved smile.

Dr.Faccio and Nurse Troy turn their heads to me at the same time.

The nurse eyes me from head to toes and suddenly gives me what seems like a forced, crooked smile. She's easily in her late 40's with light, brown hair styled in a pixie cut and icy, green eyes.