𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡 | 𝟏𝟖+

Mistake

In the middle of the night
I'm wide awake, I crave your taste

ARYA MARTINEZ

My mind is flashing, we could've been killed. The only thing that stopped us from being killed was pure luck.

I am ashamed of myself. I could have been less stupid, and now Elijah is hurt because of me.

Elijah sits at the corner of the bed gripping his right shoulder with his hand grunting in pain. His white dress shirt full of blood, his eyes fixed on the wound. His hair is disheveled, from all the action that went on just some minutes ago. I watch from a safe distance but the good in me decides to help him.

I slowly walk up to him, even though he is in a vulnerable position it feels like I am the one that really is.

My walk steps are short and it's becoming harder to breathe. Adrenaline still pulsing in my veins. I go to get a first aid kit from my traveling bag.

I walk in his direction when I reach him he stares at me, revealing no emotion. I kneel on the ground. My body between his thighs. What hides underneath his black slacks?

He stares at me as I undo the buttons of his shirt. revealing not only his bullet wound but also the inked chest he has. He helps me by fully removing his shirt. I can't help but take a glance at the delicious abs he has. Trailing down further into a marked v line that trails to a place I rather not think about.  Leaving him only in his belt and pants. His chest rises and falls, but he doesn't stop looking at me. His torso tenses.

His eyes so cold, his face would belong to a greek god, his title as don only giving him an edge that he carries with confidence.

He removes the hand from the wound allowing me to step in and help.

The air in the room seemed to thicken as I gazed at Elijah, lying there with a bullet lodged in his chest. The atmosphere crackled with tension, a palpable weight that hung in the air. As if the room itself was holding its breath.

With careful hands, I reached for the medical kit, fingers tracing over the cold metal instruments.

Elijah's face betrayed the pain he was bravely trying to conceal. His jaw clenched. I could sense the silent plea in his eyes as they locked onto mine. The gravity of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders.

The tension in the room mounted as I prepared to extract the bullet. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air as I swabbed the area around the wound. My movements were deliberate, each action calculated to minimize any additional discomfort.

The extractor tool felt cold against my fingertips as I carefully positioned it, my focus narrowing to the task at hand. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft sound of our breaths.

With a steady hand, I began the delicate process of removing the bullet. The extraction felt like an eternity, every second stretching as if time itself had slowed.

Finally, the bullet emerged. Elijah's shoudlers thaty once were tensed where now untensing.

Cleaning the hole wound and wrapping it up I wanted the process to be over. Everytime my skin touched his skin I felt an alectric shock traveling all over my body.

"All done." I state. failing miserably at making the tension disappear.

Before I can remove myself from the scene, right as I am about to turn aroun, Elijah grips my wrist. Making me stare back at  him. His eyes darkening and betraying lust behind them.

We both don't move, being scared at what can happens next. We both feel the tension that can be cut with a butter knife.

"Fuck it"