She peels back the bandages on his shoulder, her expression neutral but focused. She clicks her tongue softly.
"You'll need stitches. Maybe more. We'll assess once we get you home, but you seem stable, so that's good."
Two of the men help Adrian to his feet, supporting him on either side. He grunts as they start walking.
I follow right behind, my legs unsteady as I descend the stairs.
The air is cold, and I take a deep breath. It somehow feels like the cleanest air I've ever had. Maybe because it's the air I never thought I'd take in again.
I take the few steps down onto the ground, and then I see him.
Lucian Ionescu stands waiting by a fleet of cars, his dark coat blowing slightly in the breeze. His posture is rigid, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back.
He looks exactly as I remember, imposing, unreadable, and slightly terrifying.
The usually stoic future Don's eyes widen as he sees us walking toward him. Mostly, though, it's me he can't stop staring at.
His face, always so carefully controlled, goes pale. A shade of white I've never seen on him before.
And then it really hits home. The world thinks I'm a walking ghost.
He then turns to look at Adrian, taking in the blood-soaked bandages, the way his men are holding him upright, and his face shifts back into that Don mode I know all too well.
He then looks down at me as we pass.
"Elena," he says. "I was told you were alive, but…" he stops for a moment. "Here you are. I'm glad to see you."
I smile and nod. "Thanks, Luc," I say and look around. "It's good to be back where I belong."
Lucian's gaze softens, just a fraction. "Welcome home, Elena," he says, and then gives me a hug.
He then shifts his focus back to Adrian and tells his men, "Get him inside. Now."
The men start moving, guiding Adrian toward a waiting black SUV.
I move and follow the men to the SUV where Adrian is already being loaded into the back seat. I climb in beside him, and the door slams shut behind me.
The nurse is already working on Adrian's shoulder, cleaning the wound and changing his bandage.
Adrian's eyes find mine, and he reaches for my hand with his good arm.
I take it, lacing my fingers through his, and hold on tight.
The SUV pulls away from the airport, and for the first time in eighteen months, I finally feel home.
And as we drive, a new desire rises in me.
Survival isn't enough.
Not anymore.
I want vengeance, and I know Adrian does too.
28
ADRIAN
The SUV turns onto Strada Mure?enilor and we roll through Old Town. I lean back against the seat as the nurse finishes rubbing some ointment on my shoulder to stop infections.