Blood debt : The Don's principessa

Through me

I leaned down , and pressed my mouth to his . Blood to blood.

Alessio didn't move at first. To week. Then his hand came up , fisted in my hair and he kissed me back. Hard . Possessive . Like he was branding me in front of a cop and God and the machines keeping him alive.

The cop made a sound. Disgust or shock , I didn't care .

Alessio broke it . Breathing ragged . Eyes black . " Get out " he told the cop . " My wife and I are busy ,"

" Sir, I need–"

" Now ." Alessio's voice could cut steel . Even dying. " Or I call my lawyer. And then I call your captain. And then you're directing traffic in Staten Island until you die . "

The cop left . Door slammed.

Alessio dropped his head back.

Exhausted. " Lock it . "

I did . Then I went back to him . My mouth still tasted like him . Like copper and war .

" You shouldn't have done that ," I said . " Kissing me. You will tear your stitches. "

" You shouldn't have kept my blood on your mouth for three hours. " His hand found mine again. Threaded our fingers. " We're even."

Silence. Just the machines. Beep . Beep . Beep .

" You know my name now ," he said after a while . " Alessio Kade De Luca. Use it . "

" Alessio." It felt weird. Too intimate . Too real . " Your father –"

" Is alive. For now . " His jaw locked . " Morettis won't kill him . They want me . They want you . He's bait . "

" Then we get him . "

" We ." He smiled. No blood this time . Just pain . " You said we ."

The lights flickered . Once . Twice .

Alessio went still . Every muscle locked . " Get down . "

" What ?"

" Down . Now . "

The door kicked in .

Two men. Black masks . Silencers . Not cops .

Alessio moved before I could scream. He ripped the IV out of his arm , grabbed the metal stand , and threw it . It hit the first man in the chest . He went down .

The second man raised his gun . At me.

I didn't think . I grabbed the gun from Alessio's bedside table – the one he took off the Moretti in the alley – and fired .

Once . Twice .

The man dropped.

Silence again .

Except louder now . Ringing . Gunpowder .

Alessio was staring at me . Not at the bodies. At me . " Two ," he said . Quite . Proud . " You're catching up ."

I dropped the gun . My hands were shaking now . They hadn't before . " They found us . "

" They always do ." He swung his legs off the bed . Stood . Swayed . Stayed up . "Hospital's not safe. We leave . Now . "

" You can't even walk ."

" Watch me ." He took one step . Another. His face went white . " Get my pants . Closet . And the bag . Bottom shelf . "

I ran to the closet . Black duffel . Heavy . Unzipped it . Cash . Passports . More guns . Burners phones .

He was pulling on pants over the hospital gown . Slow . Painful. But doing it .

An alarm started screaming down the hall . Code Silver. Active shooter .

" Time's up ," Alessio said . He grabbed the duffel , tossed it to me . Then he took my hand . His grip was iron again . No weakness. Just will . " We run ."

We ran .

Down the fire stairs . Past screaming nurses. Past a security guard who saw Alessio's face and let us pass . De Luca name meant something , even bleeding.

The car was still out front . Keys in the ignition. Stupid of me . Lucky for us .

I drove. Alessio rode shotgun , gun in his lap , head back ,eyes closed. But not asleep. Never asleep .

" Where?" I asked. GPS was dead . Phones off ." Where to go?"

I gripped the wheel until my knuckles went white . The hospital was already a shrinking blur behind us . My heart hadn't slowed since the first gunshot. It probably never would again.

" Alessio," I said . My voice shook . I hated that I shook. " You are bleeding. Again. "

His shirt was soaked . The stitches had definitely torn . Blood seeped through the white gauze , spreading like spilled wine . He didn't even flinch .

" Good," he rasped. " Means I'm alive ."

" That's not –" I swallowed. "That's not how that works ."

He laughed. Actually laughed. It turned into a cough, wet and painful , but his mouth was still curved when he looked at me . " It is for me , principessa . De Lucas don't die in hospital beds . We die in the street . With guns . Or we do not die."

" Stop talking like that ." The wipers smeared rain accross the windshield. I couldn't tell if it was rain or blood from my hands . " Where exactly is ' home '? Your penthouse? The warehouse? Because Morettis know all of those ."

" Not those homes." He shifted , winced , and pulled the gun up to check the clip . Methodical. Even half-dead , Alessio Kade De Luca was a soldier first. " Safe house . North . Noone knows it . Not my father. Not my men . Not you . Until now . "

That should have terrified me . Another secret. Another cage . Instead , something warm and dangerous curled in my chest . Trust. He was trusting me .

" Why? I whispered. " Why tell me now ?"

His fingers brushed my knee . Just for a second . A brand . " Because you shot a man for me five minutes ago . Because you said ' we ' . Because you tasted my blood and didn't run . " He swallowed. " And because if I die tonight , I want you to know where to bury me ."

My breath hitched. " Don't you dare ."

" Then don't let me ." His eyes were black fire in the dashboard lights . " Keep driving. Don't stop for red lights . Don't stop for cops . Don't stop unless I say ."

I nodded. I didn't trust my voice.

The city blurred past . Sirens wailed something behind us . Getting closer . Or maybe that was the ringing in my ears . My hands were steady now. They hadn't been when I picked up the gun .But they were now . Two men dead . By my hand . Because of him . For him .

He opened his eyes . Looked at me . At my mouth. Blood still there . His blood . My blood now .

" Home ," he said . " We go home , principessa. And then we end this ."

The rearview mirror filled with the black SUVs . Three of them . " Alessio," I whispered. " We have got company tonight."