Chapter 8 - The Awakening of the Wolf
Pain was the first thing that returned—a deep, throbbing ache that radiated from my left collarbone down to my fingertips.
The second thing was the sterile scent of antiseptic, mixed with the unmistakable aroma of fresh white lilies and expensive cologne.
I forced my heavy eyelids open. Morning sunlight was filtering through heavy sheer curtains. I wasn't in a public hospital ward; I was in a private medical wing inside the Oyster Bay estate, hooked up to an IV drip and a digital heart monitor.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, his head resting against the side of my leg, was Leonardo. He was fast asleep, still clutching the sleeve of my hospital gown in his tiny fist as if terrified that I would vanish into thin air if he let go.
On the other side of the bed sat Dante.
He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week. His tuxedo was gone, replaced by a rumpled black dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. His eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark purple rings, his jaw covered in thick stubble.
When he saw my eyes flutter open, his entire body shuddered with relief.
""You're awake,"" he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. ""God... you're awake.""
""Leo..."" I croaked, my throat as dry as sandpaper.
""He hasn't left your side for three days,"" Dante murmured, gently resting his hand over mine. ""The doctors had to sew you up right here. The bullet passed clean through the shoulder muscle. Missed the artery by two centimeters. Two centimeters, Clare. If you had been an inch to the left...""
His voice broke, and he closed his eyes, unable to finish the sentence.
""He called me... mother,"" I whispered.
Dante looked down at his sleeping son, his thumb stroking the boy’s dark hair. ""Because you are. In every way that counts. A woman gave him life, took a bag of cash, and ran. You threw your body over him when the bullets flew. You gave him a voice, and then you gave him your blood.""
At the sound of movement on the bed, Leonardo stirred. He blinked sleepily, rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, and looked at my face.
When he realized I was looking back at him, smiling, a sound escaped his lips—a raw, guttural, joyous cry that broke straight from the bottom of his heart. It wasn't a word, but it was the purest expression of human love I had ever witnessed.
He scrambled up onto the bed, being intensely careful not to bump my injured shoulder, and pressed his forehead against mine. His hands flew with dizzying speed:
I love you. You are alive. My brave mother.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I lifted my uninjured right hand and signed back: Always. I will never leave you.
Dante cleared his throat, standing up from his chair. The softness in his demeanor vanished, replaced by the terrifying, cold authority of a king preparing for war.
""Falcone is holed up in a warehouse at the Brooklyn Navy Yard,"" Dante said, pulling an encrypted satellite phone from his pocket. ""He thought he could strike at my heart and hide behind his remaining mercenaries. He doesn't understand that when you strike a wolf’s family, you don't wound him. You forfeit your right to breathe.""
""Dante,"" I said softly, reaching out to catch his wrist.
He stopped, looking down at my hand against his pulse.
May you like
""End it,"" I whispered. ""Not for vengeance. For our peace. Make sure he can never cast a shadow over this boy again.""
Dante bent down, pressed a lingering, passionate kiss against my forehead, and looked into my eyes with unwavering devotion. ""Rest, my love. By sunset, this city will be safe for you both.""
