21

At least his sense of humor is intact.
“Someone needs to remind you of your place, right?” I wink, grabbing the supplies and thrusting them in my face. Belt, scissors, vodka.
Where are the needle and thread?
“How do you expect me to sew him up without a needle and thread? Hell, I’ll take wire. Anything.” I cut Ari’s shirt, and Matias moves his hand. A river of blood drips down his chest and abdomen.
“Is he going to die?” Matias asks, staring at the blood on his hand. He looks like he’s in shock.
“No, he isn’t going to die,” Carmine answers for me. “He isn’t, right?” Carmine kneels next to me.
“I don’t know. He’s bleeding a lot. I am still learning about medicine. I’m not perfect. I need that blood. Set up the transfusion. He needs it now.”
“I have it,” Alex calls from downstairs, and then into the living room blood bags in hand, along with the necessary equipment.
“You have that, but you don’t have anything for sutures?” I say to Carmine in the stress of the moment, my statement ending with a bite.
“We don’t usually have injuries. I used to have a doctor, but he was killed.”
“That’s reassuring,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
I lean over Ari. His eyes are closed, so I gently tap his face. “Ari, I need you to wake up, okay? Wake up. Talk to me.”
Marie is patting his forehead with a washcloth, and he finally rouses, groaning. “Fuck, it hurts.” He tries to roll away from me.
“Stop, Ari. Stop. I need you to lie down.” I grip his arm to hold him, but he rips it free. I’m able to see his back. There is no exit wound.
Shit.
“Let me go. I’m fine. Let me fucking go!” he roars.
Matias sits on his legs to keep him still, and Carmine is there to hold his arms down.
“Ari, listen to me. Listen, hey-” I grip his chin and force him to look at me. “I know it hurts. You’re in shock, but I need you to relax and stay awake. So, talk to us. Tell me about your childhood. Any good memories?” I untwist the cap of the vodka bottle. “This is going to hurt.”
“Wait!” His chest heaves just as someone shoves the needle into his arm to start the blood transfusion. “Give me some of that.” He snatches the bottle from my hand and chugs three big gulps. “Fuck!” The vodka spills from the corner of his lips. “Just do it.”
I start to take a swig myself, but Carmine rips the bottle from my lips. “What are you doing?”
“Believe me, I don’t want to be sober for what I’m about to do, and neither does he,” I say, not even giving Ari a warning before I douse the wound in vodka. Ignoring Ari’s agonized cries, I wash my hands in the alcohol. “There’s no exit wound. I’m going to have to dig the bullet out, Ari.”
He bites his bottom lip and nods. “Fucking perfect.”
“Heat up something metal too. I need something big and heat it until it’s orange.”
Ari’s eyes widen. “What? Why? Why do you need to do that?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” I dig my fingers into the hole, and he screams, arching his back, nearly lifting Matias off the ground.
Carmine presses down harder on his arms, and Ari cries in pain while I dig into his body for the bullet.
“Come on, pass out,” I say under my breath, hoping the agony will be too much for him to take.
“Oh my god, can you feel it yet? Jesus Christ, Delilah! We don’t know each other well enough for you to be inside me like this,” he shouts, which causes a few people to laugh.
“Only you would be making a joke right now,” Carmine says, slightly amused.
“Better than admitting that I’m dying,” Ari grumbles, his eyes hooding.
“You’re not dying,” I state, twisting my hand again, and it causes Ari’s body to jerk. Finally, I feel something against my fingertips. “Don’t move. Don’t move, Ari. I have it. I know it’s hard but stay still.” I lift a shoulder to wipe the sweat off my brow, my hands covered in blood.
He takes fast breaths, his nostrils flaring as he prepares himself. “Okay. Okay,” he says. “Get it over with. God, I’m fucking tired.”
He blinks rapidly, and Marie is there to catch the sweat dripping from his brows.
Ari stills, but tremors cause his body to spasm. His skin is wet with sweat and blood…so much blood. I’m concerned. I don’t know if this will work.
I’m in over my head.
Pinching the bullet between my fingers, I pull it free, and everyone takes a breath.
“Give it to me,” Carmine holds out his hand, and I place it in his palm. He inspects it. “I’ll use the same bullet to kill Romano.”
“That’s the revenge story I love to hear about,” Ari’s teeth begin to chatter.
I pour more vodka on the wound, and he curses at me, “You fucking bitch! Warn me next time.”
“Watch it! She’s trying to save your life, Ari,” Carmine hisses. “You will not speak to her like that, or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. It just hurts,” he says.
“It’s okay.” I forgive him easily. “You can call me a bitch all you want for the next part.” I fold the belt in my hand and push it into his mouth. He mumbles, and I know what he’s trying to ask.
Why the belt?
“Did anyone heat anything for me?”
“Yeah. This decorative iron poker? We have a gas fireplace-”
“That’s fine. Bring it.” I moved it over, Alex, if I remember correctly.
The tip of the iron is a brilliant orange. Smoke wafts from the tip, and Ari’s eyes widen. He begins to thrash, fighting against the men’s hold on him.
“I know.” My voice catches. “I don’t want to, but this is the only way to seal the wound. I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to really hurt. You’ll probably pass out, but I have to do it.”
He bites down on the belt, his jaw muscles flexing and the tendons in his neck protruding. Marie can’t wipe the sweat away quickly enough.
“Ready?”
He gives a slight tilt of his chin.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, then I press the searing hot iron into the wound. The flesh sizzles, the heat cauterizing the muscle and vessels so it no longer bleeds. The smell of his skin cooking has me holding back my sick. I try to hold my breath, but it isn’t enough to block the rancid scent.
Ari finally falls limp. The pain is too much for him, and I burn the surface of his wound to make sure it’s sealed.
I toss the poker to the floor, and the adrenaline begins to fade. I sway and fall to the side, Carmine catching me.
“I have you.”
I gag, then flip over, releasing the contents of my stomach on the floor.
He holds my hair and rubs my back. “It’s okay. You did so well, Sweetling. So good. You saved his life.”
“Not yet,” I correct him, wiping my mouth. “I need supplies. Antibacterial ointment, antibiotics to fight infection. I need to ensure he doesn’t react badly to the blood. I need a hospital wing.”
“Consider it done,” Carmine says.
A scream has me sitting up and staring at Nicky. Alex is taking the poker to Nicky’s gunshot wound, and since it’s a through and through, there’s no bullet to fish out.
Nicky punches Alex in the face and then passes out, both men falling unconscious.
“Jesus,” Matias sighs, sagging against the floor.
Everyone is tired. Exhaustion fills the room, and we sit in silence for minutes, maybe hours, I’m not sure. I’m too tired to care.
“Gianni, dispose of the bodies. Matias, settle your brother in an upstairs room so we can check on him as needed. Victor, deal with those two idiots.” Carmine points to Nicky and Alex. “I’m taking care of Delilah. Marie?”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo?” her voice is steady as if she’s seen disasters like this before.
“Get cleaned up and go rest. I’ll hire a crew to repair the house and clean it.” Carmine slides his arms under me and lifts me. “Sweetling, you impress me so much. Let me take care of you.”
I don’t have the energy to fight him.
The reason is, though, I don’t want to fight him at all. Not anymore.