Page 30 of Vengeance

"How long before you’ll be here?” she asked.

"Forty-five minutes." Relief nearly made her collapse.

"Please hurry,” she sobbed. The line went dead, and she ran back to Vengeance. She slowly sat beside him again. "He’s on his way, and you’re going to be okay.” She wished that she believed what she was saying.

He opened one eye. "Doc?"

She nodded. "He's coming."

A tired smile crossed his face. "Knew—” His breathing hitched. "You could do it."

She looked down at the blood covering her hands. "I almost lost you."

"You didn't,” he whispered.

"I thought I had,” she said.

He was quiet for a long moment. "So did I." The honesty surprised her, and she looked over at him. Moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the face she'd trusted, then hated, and now, she wasn't sure what she felt about him anymore.

"You should've told me."

His eyes stayed fixed on the stars overhead. "I know."

"I was angry."

"You had every right to be angry,” he said.

"I still am,” she insisted.

"I know."

She studied him. "You really hate your father."

A bitter laugh escaped him before he winced. "Hate isn't a strong enough word.” She believed him. Chloe reached over and adjusted the blood-soaked bandage, and he hissed through his teeth.

"Sorry,” she said.

"You've apologized a lot tonight."

"I'll probably apologize again,” she said.

"I know." A small smile tugged at her lips despite everything.

“Thanks for saving my life,” he whispered. “I knew that you liked me—deep down.”

She rolled her eyes. "I still don't like you very much."

"No?"

"No, but—” She looked down at his blood covering her hands. "I'm beginning to think you're nothing like Dante." For the first time since she'd learned his last name, Vengeance smiled without sadness. It lasted only a second, but somehow, it felt like the beginning of something neither of them had expected.

Vengeance

Everything hurt. The pain came in waves, crashing through his side every time he breathed. That was good, though, because pain meant he was still alive. He'd take pain over the alternative any day.

The scent of pine filled his lungs, mixed with blood and damp earth. Somewhere nearby, an owl called into the darkness, oblivious to the fact that half the southeast's most dangerous criminals were hunting two people beneath an abandoned railroad bridge. He shifted an inch, and white-hot agony ripped through his ribs.

"Don't move.” Chloe's voice was soft but firm. "You'll open your wound back up." He looked over at her. She'd cleaned most of the blood from her hands in the creek, but dried crimson still stained the cuffs of her hoodie. She hadn't left him, even after finding out exactly who he was.