Page 128 of Savage Saint
"I'd do anything for you, Butterfly."
The endearment slips out without thought, and I see her shoulders relax slightly. She opens the container and takes a small spoonful, her eyes closing as she tastes it.
"It's good," she says, and there's wonder in her voice. "I can taste the strawberries. Real ones."
"Unlike whatever synthetic shit they fed you before," Luca says, appearing with his own spoon. "Mind if I try?"
For the first time since leaving the compound, Kasia almost smiles. "It's strawberry ice cream, not plutonium."
"You never know with convenience store food," he jokes, taking a taste. "Mmm, yeah, that's the real deal. Though I'm more of a chocolate man myself."
As the jet takes off, the conversation drifts to business, the power vacuum Jerzy's death has created, which crews mightmake moves, and how to protect our interests. But I keep watching Kasia, noting how she eats her ice cream in tiny spoonfuls, like she's trying to make it last forever.
"The Kozlov brothers will probably make a play for the gun trafficking operations," Dante says. "They've been sniffing around for months."
"Let them," I reply, not really paying attention. "We've got bigger concerns than some Russian wannabes."
My focus is entirely on Kasia, who's now staring out the window at the city lights below. She's finished her ice cream, but she's still holding the empty container like a talisman.
Sighing, she reaches for the lightweight jacket she'd thrown over her shoulders before we left the compound.
As she starts to pull it off, I catch a glimpse of something dark staining the fabric near her left arm. My eyes zero in on it immediately, a rusty brown smear that makes my blood run cold.
"Stop," I say sharply, moving towards her before she can fully remove the jacket.
She freezes, confusion flickering across her face. "What's wrong?"
I'm already kneeling beside her seat, my hands gentle but insistent as I help slide the jacket off her arm. There, on her pale skin, is a thin line of dried blood running from just below her elbow to her wrist.
"Fuck," I breathe, my fingers hovering over the cut without touching it. It's not deep, but seeing her blood, her hurt, makes something primal and violent claw at my chest.
"Angelo, it's nothing," she starts, but I'm already on my feet, moving towards the jet's medical supplies.
"It's not nothing," I growl over my shoulder. "You're bleeding. That's never nothing."
I can feel Dante and Luca's eyes on us, but I don't give a shit about their knowing looks. All that matters is cleaning this cut, making sure it doesn't get infected, making sure she's okay.
Because the thought of her in pain, even from something this minor, makes me want to burn down whatever's left of that fucking compound.
"First aid kit's in the back," I tell her, already moving. "Come on."
The jet's small bathroom doubles as a medical station, equipped with everything from bandages to surgical supplies. I guide Kasia to sit on the closed toilet seat while I gather what I need. Antiseptic, gauze, medical tape.
"This might sting a bit," I warn, dabbing the cut with antiseptic.
She doesn't flinch. Doesn't even seem to notice the pain. Her eyes are fixed on my hands as I work, watching the careful way I clean the wound.
"You're so good at this," she observes.
"Thank you," I grumble, making sure the wound is thoroughly cleaned.
"Your bedside manner needs work."
I can't help but chuckle. "I'll try harder," I say, fully smiling now.
Her blue eyes are fixed on mine, intense and searching. There's colour in her cheeks again, the first I've seen since she walked out of that burning building.
"I need to tell you something," she continues, her voice so quiet I almost miss her speaking altogether.
