Chapter 10 - The Wounded King“Dante!” Clara screamed, dropping the iron poker.
She rushed forward as his massive frame collapsed onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom.
His white shirt was soaked in dark, terrifyingly fresh blood on his left side.
Julian ran to his father, crying hysterically.
“Take him out of the room,” Dante gasped out to a surviving guard who rushed in behind him.
The guard scooped up the screaming child and carried him away.
Clara fell to her knees beside Dante, her hands already flying over his ruined shirt.
“You took a bullet to the abdomen,” she stated, her voice tight with panic.
“Where is the estate doctor?”
“Dead,” Dante grunted, coughing up a spatter of blood.
“They hit his car on the highway.”
Clara’s heart stopped.
If Dante went to a public hospital, the police would arrest him, and the rival cartel would finish the job.
“I need a trauma kit!” Clara shouted at the guards in the hallway.
“Everything you have! Now!”
They carried Dante’s massive body onto his own bed, staining the expensive silk sheets red.
Clara stripped off his shirt, exposing the ugly, bleeding entry wound just below his ribs.
She didn't have time to be terrified; she had to be a nurse.
A guard rushed in with a massive black medical bag, dropping it at her feet.
“Hold him down,” Clara ordered the remaining soldiers.
“This is going to hurt like hell, Dante.”
Dante looked up at her through half-lidded, pain-filled eyes.
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“I trust you, Clara,” he whispered.
She poured raw antiseptic directly into the wound, causing Dante to roar in agony.
