Chapter 56
Elodie’s POV~
The pharmacy was too far away to run to. The streets were empty, not a single car, not a single person who might help.
And then I smelled Blood. Heavy and metallic, filling the small space between us.
He was hurt.
Something in my chest loosened just slightly. Injured meant he was vulnerable. Meant maybe I had a chance if I stayed calm.
I turned the key and started the engine. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Where do you need to go p>
“Straight ahead. To Santa Pier.” His breathing was shallow now. “I’ll tell you when to turn p>
“I know the way p>
I did. I’d been there before, back when things were different.
I pushed the memory down and focused on the road.
The rain kept hammering against the windshield. The gun stayed pointed at me, unwavering. And the silence was so thick I could barely breathe through it.
I drove carefully. No sudden movements. No mistakes. Just smooth, precise turns, following the route I remembered.
Half an hour to the pier.
Half an hour of thinking about Liora waking up and realizing I never came home. Half an hour of wondering if Dante would even notice I was gone, or if he’d be too wrapped up in Sienna to care.
Half an hour of realizing that if I died tonight, my daughter would grow up thinking I’d abandoned her.
The thought made my hands tighten on the wheel.
I couldn’t die here.
“Pull over there,” the man said finally, his voice rougher now. “Under that tree p>
The massive banyan tree loomed ahead, its branches spreading like dark fingers against the rainy sky.
I stopped the car smoothly and put it in park.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
The gun was still pointed at me, but his hand was shaking. The blood smell had gotten so strong I could taste it.
I reached slowly for my bag where he’d dropped it. “I have first aid supplies. If you’re injured p>
“I’m fine,” he cut me off.
He wasn’t fine. Anyone could smell that he wasn’t fine.
But he opened the door and stumbled out into the rain, disappearing into the darkness before I could say another word.
I sat there for a long moment, my heart still racing, before I finally put the car back in drive.
My hands were shaking again as I pulled away from the pier.
By the time I got back to Cara’s apartment, it was almost midnight.
I’d tried to wipe the blood off my bag and phone in the car, but I must not have done a good enough job because the moment I walked through her door, she wrinkled her nose.
She was sitting up on the couch, wrapped in blankets, looking slightly better than she had on the phone. But when she saw me, her eyes narrowed.
“Why do you smell like blood? Elodie, are you hurt p>
“No. I’m fine p>
“You don’t smell fine p>
“Cara, please. I’m just tired. Let me help you with your medicine, okay p>
She studied me for a long moment, her fever-bright eyes seeing too much. But eventually she nodded and let me help her.
I gave her the medicine, made her eat some porridge, sat with her while she slowly started to feel better.
And the whole time, my mind kept replaying those thirty minutes in the car. The gun. The blood. The way that man had looked at me before he disappeared.
The next day, after Cara’s fever finally broke and she was able to eat something solid, I left her apartment and headed home.
Home. That word still felt strange.
I had Johnny’s banquet tomorrow night, and I’d been so wrapped up in everything else that I’d completely forgotten about finding something to wear.
By afternoon, I was standing outside one of the high-end boutiques in the shopping district, staring through the windows at gowns that looked extremely expensive but desperately needed.
When I walked in, nobody noticed me at first. The manager and several salespeople were clustered around a dress form, carefully adjusting the most beautiful gown I’d ever seen.
It took a full minute before the manager glanced up and spotted me hovering near the entrance.
“Oh! I’m sorry, miss. How can I help you?” Her smile was polite but distracted, the kind you give to customers you don’t think will buy anything.
“I’m just looking,” I said quietly.
“Of course. Take your time p>
She turned right back to the gown.
I’d been married to the Alpha of the Bellini Pack for seven years, but I’d barely attended any formal events. Dante never brought me to them. Never wanted me standing next to him where people might see. Might ask questions.
And Nonna had stopped going to these things years ago, so there’d never been anyone to take me.
I didn’t know much about high fashion. Cara had taught me some basics over the years, how to spot quality fabric, what cuts worked for what body types but walking into a place like this made me feel small.
There were so many gowns. Racks and racks of silk and chiffon and sequins, all beautiful, all far more elegant than anything I’d ever worn.
I wasn’t going to be picky. I just needed something decent. Something that wouldn’t embarrass Johnny when I stood next to him.
And then I saw The gown the salespeople were working on.
It was stunning, light purple, almost lavender, made of this delicate semi-sheer chiffon that seemed to float. The waist was cinched perfectly, and there were these hand-embroidered flowers cascading down one side. The mannequin wearing it had a matching necklace, something antique and expensive that caught the light every time someone moved near it.
It was the kind of dress you wore when you wanted to be seen. When you wanted to matter.
I couldn’t help myself. I walked closer, drawn to it like a moth to flame.
My hand reached out, almost unconsciously, just wanting to feel the fabric. To see if it was as soft as it looked.
Before I could touch it, the manager’s hand clamped down on my wrist.
Hard.
I gasped, pain shooting up my arm.
She released me immediately, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just, this gown is a custom piece for one of our VIP clients. It’s one of a kind, extremely expensive, and if anything happened to it before the client picks it up p>
She trailed off, but the message was clear.
‘You can’t afford this. Don’t touch things that aren’t for you p>
My wrist throbbed where she’d grabbed me. I rubbed it slowly, not meeting her eyes.
“I understand,” I said softly.
I felt every pair of eyes in that boutique turn toward me—the salespeople, the other customers browsing nearby.
“Is there something else I can show you?” the manager asked, her tone gentler now. Pitying. “We have some lovely options over here that might be more in your price range p>
She gestured toward a rack in the corner. The dresses there were nice enough, I guess. But they weren’t that dress.