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Chapter 33

** DANTE VINO POV **

My heart dropped as I watched Rebel drift into unconsciousness.

"Rebel, REBEL! Keep your eyes open! FUCK!" I yelled as I hit the steering wheel. We couldn't possibly make it to the hospital, it was at least a 45 minute drive, that and I don't trust anyone operating on Rebel, even if it is just a scrape. I picked up my phone and dialed Angelo.

"Brother, hows she doing?" He asked nervously.

"She's out cold. Get some men over to L'Americano. Have them investigate the bodies and clean it up. We're going to the house, I'll be operating on Rebel myself." I said coldly before I hung up.

I drove faster than I ever had in my life. Relief flooded through me as our gates started coming into view. I quickly parked, and ran to the passenger side. I picked up Rebel bridal style and carried her through the front door.

"Shoes mister!" My mother snapped at me as I walked in. I glared at her as I quickly stepped out of my shoes and gently placed my little vixen on the couch. I immediately started to take off her leather jacket, which was now drenched in blood.

I examined the wound as Giana, Harry and Florence, began to realize what was happening. They immediately rushed over to her side. My OCD mother started to take off Rebels shoes. 

"Not. Now. Mother." I growled as I looked down at my little vixen. 

"Nephew, What the fuck happened?" Giana barked as she examined the unconscious Rebel.

"Oh you know. She had one too many milkshakes and now she's in a food coma... WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT LOOK LIKE HAPPENED?" I yelled. Rebel needed help. Rebel needed me. I didn't have time to waste on these idiotic questions.

The twins and Angelo sprinted through the door. They made it a few feet in before recovering a death stare from my mother and turning around to remove their shoes at the door.

"She was shot." Natalia explained as they walked in. I threw Rebels jacket towards her before I quickly walked into the other room to gather some supplies.

How could I have been so reckless? Her life was in danger. If those idiot Russians knew how to shoot properly, she would have been gone. My little vixen would have left me.

I would have failed her.

My mind and body filled with guilt at how I treated her. Stephan ordered those woman to seduce me, saying I was being too anti-social, and paid his woman to entertain me for a while. It didn't help my wandering mind from the constant thoughts of the hazel eyes that consumed my entire being.

The way she raced was incredible, calculated, and extraordinary. Rebel was unlike any woman I've ever met in my life. She captivated me down to my very being. Her intelligence, humor, and kind heart melting my callous soul to shreds. I almost shot Stephan between the eyes after he made that bet, regardless if he just returned to Italy from an undercover mission. Yes he's my Capo, and my second cousin, but when it comes to her, all rational thoughts just fly out the fucking window. I even followed them to that damn American restaurant because I just couldn't stay away from her. It's my fault she's shot, it's my fault she's hurt.

Part of me hates myself for the way I acted towards her, for the way I have been treating her, for the way I am. But the rational part of me, the only remaining inkling of logic that remains in my mind, tells me that I need to push her away. I need to create some sort of emotional distance to prevent the inevitable hurt. To prevent the pain I'd feel if I ever failed protecting her, just like I have failed to protect so many of my own family members.