Finding Forgiveness

“He was trying to kill you, I presume?” Max asked.

Luciano nodded.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Max sighed. I knew what he was thinking. Leo had clearly wanted him dead and interfering with it was interfering with the Alpha. He wasn’t dead yet but he certainly would bleed out within the next hour if we just left him.

“Who did this doesn’t change anything,” I said ripping Luciano’s shirt out of the wound. “We are helping you and that is final.”

Although I addressed this to Luciano, it was entirely aimed at Max.

“Max, will you get me some towels, a basin of water and salt and the medicine kit,” I added.

He followed my command after only a short hesitation and soon I had a whole stack of towels and the box filled with all the first aid supplies.

I couldn’t take him to the hospital, although they would have been able to do a lot more, because unfortunately, Leo’s people unsurprisingly have loyalty to him and news of Luciano’s appearance would get back to him and Luciano’s chance of survival would have been higher bleeding on the forest floor.

So he’d have to do with me. I’d practised a lot the dying men Andrea used to drag back to the house in Venezuela so he wasn’t completely without hope.

The first thing I did was layer two towels down on his chest and instruct Max to hold them down, applying as much pressure as possible.

Whilst he did that, I prepared my sterilised needle and medical thread.

Luciano had lost consciousness long before even the appearance of the needle so there was no bother worrying about his pain, not that I had much sympathy anyway.

After a few minutes, Max removed the towels and I got straight to work. There was blood everywhere. On our hands, on our clothes, all over the kitchen floor. Every few stitches, I had to wash away some of it with the salty water so that I could see what I was doing but as I worked my way along the widest of the three slashes, it began to stop oozing. Once that one was sealed, I did the other two.

Eventually, all the bleeding had stopped. The kitchen looked like a crime scene and Luciano was white as paper but his heart still beat and his lungs still breathed. All that I could do now was wipe him with antiseptic and wait.

I doused his wounds in an excessive amount of undiluted disinfectant. The concentration of it must have been intense because as it seeped into the stitching, it was enough to cause him to stir.

He winced and then suddenly his hand was around my wrist.

Max shot to his feet and pointed his gun at Luciano’s head.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispered, ignoring the gun and looking straight at me.

“So are you,” I hissed, “Seven years ago and six times over.”

He gave a weak smile and the slightest laugh which was more just an exhale of air, “Yet you saved me.”

I yanked my wrist out of his hand and glared down at him.

He opened his mouth to speak again before he just simply dropped out of consciousness again

I looked up at Max and sunk into the kitchen chair.

“Leo is going to be furious,” I said.

Max nodded, “Yep. And he’ll probably kill him and your efforts will be in vain.”

I shook my head, “Leo can’t seem to bring himself to end him either. He wants to but he just can’t. There’s something about him.”

Max raised an eyebrow, “Something diabolical.”

“Yes, but how many times has Leo left him to die and never actually done it?” I asked.

“Ella,” Max said taking my hands, “Luciano is the lowest piece of shit to ever walk the earth… maybe Martinez was his one rival for that title. And he is never going to change. He is not right in the head and that will never be fixed. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said, “Then we both agree. That man needs to die.”

Just then, there were footsteps coming down the drive.

“That’s Leo,” I whispered recognising the distinct rhythm and weight of his stride.

I tried my best to wipe my hands on my bloody shirt before going to the door. It would probably be best if I could try and explain before he saw Luciano unconscious on the kitchen table.

I opened it a few seconds before he would have done and put on a big smile.

“You’re home,” I said.

I completely forgot the state of my clothes and went forward to hug him.

He looked down at me, a concerned look in his eye before grabbing my shoulders and stopping me from coming closer.

“And you’re covered in blood,” he said, shaking me. “Why? Are you hurt? Are the kids hurt? Max?”

“No, no, no,” I replied quickly. “It’s just-”

Before I could continue, he had smelt the air and obviously detected Luciano’s scent.

He marched straight past me into the kitchen and of course, met the gruesome scene.

Max stood awkwardly by Luciano, a cloth dripping with blood in one hand and Luciano’s ripped shirt in the other.

Before he said anything, Leo just let out a deep growl. But then his anger was overcome by confusion.

“Anyone going to explain what the fuck is going on or…?” he asked, snapping his glare from Max to me.

“He came here badly injured,” I said. “I couldn’t let him die on our doorstep.”

“You helped Luciano Megestanis?” He asked.

“Wild huh?” Was my only response.

Wrong response.

Leo grabbed my arm and pulled me into him.

“Why would you even let him in the house? Where our children are all sleeping? How did you know you could trust him?”

“He was on unarmed on death’s door. He couldn’t have hurt anyone,” I replied, defensively.

“Are you forgetting that this he is the slyest, lying, deceiving sneak to ever live?” He asked only pulling me closer.

“Well the gash you left across his chest was fairly convincing,” I snapped, shaking my arm out of his grip.

Leo let out a short breath, “He better hope he never wakes up.”