Page 137 of Bound By Revenge

His face hardens, and he tries to push to his feet, before giving up with a wince. "You think I don’t care?" His voice is low, dangerous. "You think I’d still be here if I didn’t care?" His laugh cuts me off before I can say anything, bitter and sharp. "You know what? I'm not having this conversation with you. Definitely not now. Preferably not ever again."

His words hit me like a slap, the weight of them slamming into my chest. He shifts slightly, grimacing, and I swallow the lump in my throat and force my voice steady. "Yeah, well, unless you’re planning to redecorate in crime scene chic, you need a doctor.Now. Stitches, antibiotics—something.”

"It’s a scratch," he mutters, waving me off like I’m being dramatic.

"It’s a gunshot wound," I snap. "You don’t just slap a bandage on a bullet hole and call it a day!" My gaze is locked on him, on the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the streaks of blood painting his skin. My hands shake as I press them over thebandage. It’s soaked through. "We’re calling someone. Dmitri, hand me my phone. It's on the coffee table."

"No," Nik says sharply, his hand snapping up to grab my wrist. His grip is strong, unrelenting, even though I know he’s hurting. "No phone calls.”

"Why not?" I demand, my voice rising.

"Because I said so." His eyes blaze, but there’s something dangerous and raw underneath it. "Let it go, Kat.”

I swallow hard, blinking back tears. My hands fall to my lap, useless. "You could’ve been killed," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Do you get that? You could’ve died. Do you even care what that would do to me?”

His jaw tightens, and his gaze flickers away. Just for a second. But it’s enough. "How the fuck do you get the nerve to ask me that? Everything—every single fucking thing—I do is for you.”

"Then let me get you some help. For my sake, if not yours. You need a doctor. This isn’t something I can fix with gauze and disinfectant.”

"No fucking doctors. Period," he growls, his voice hard.

I blink, staring up at him. "Are you crazy? You need stitches! Antibiotics! Hell, probably a transfusion at this point!”

"Kat." His voice cuts through my panic, sharp and commanding. "I said no.”

"And I say you’re not dying on me today!" My voice shakes, and I hate it, but I can’t stop. "I'm getting you a doctor, I don't care what you say?—“

"Many of McGuire's men died today. I won't have your name or mine on any conversation that links us to a gunfight with the Irish. You never know who's listening to my phone calls—and yours, too, now that you're with me. You’re not getting yourself seen near anything suspicious. I won't have you connected to any of this organized crime crap. End of discussion.”

I scoff, glaring at him, horrified. "If you think I care about any ofthatmore than I care about your life?—“

"No," he snaps, his voice sharp, but there’s something else underneath it. Anger. Exhaustion. Something raw and jagged. "How many times do I have to tell you? This is not a democracy.”

"Fine!" My voice cracks like a whip. "If you won’t let me call someone, I’ll go in person. I’ll find a doctor, offer them a ridiculous amount of cash to keep their mouth shut?—“

"No!" His voice booms, his hand tightening around my wrist. His eyes blaze with fury, but it’s not just anger. It’s fear. "You’re not leaving me again.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My breath catches as I stare at him, his fingers tightening even more around my wrist, his jaw locked like he’s holding back something he can’t say.

"Nik, don't be ridiculous. I'll be right back?—“

"No. Don't leave me. It's too dangerous. And you promised. The night we..." He pauses, clears his throat, the movement making him wince. "I warned you. I told you if you stayed, there was no turning back. Don't do this to me.”

And that's when I see it, clear as day.

He doesn’t trust me.

It’s not about the doctor, not really. It's not even about McGuire. It’s about me. He’s terrified I’ll walk out that door and not come back. That I’ll leave him.

The realization hits me like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath. After everything, he still doesn’t believe I’ll stay. Because of how we started. Because I lied, stole from him, hid my name. I thought we were past this, but clearly, no matter what he says, some part of him is still waiting for me to betray him again. And maybe he’s right to worry. Because right now, looking at him bleeding, I don’t know if I can live with this for the rest of my life.

"You don’t trust me," I whisper, the words catching in my throat.

His grip loosens slightly, but his eyes narrow. "This isn’t about trust," he says, his voice cold now, defensive. "It's not safe out there right now. Yesterday when you left, I was worried sick about you, and that was before McGuire tried to kill me today.”

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat doesn’t budge. "It’s not about that, Nik," I say softly. "You’re scared I won’t come back.”

His jaw tightens, his eyes darkening. "I have no reason to lie to you.”

---