Weakness turned my dangling arms and legs completely useless. Blood poured from the wound, all over the white shirt and the grey jacket. My head hung back, my mind slipping from me with each passing second.

"You need to stay awake." Dorian's voice sounded wrong, gruff and scared. "The bullet pierced your lung and went out on the other side. I can't tell how many of your organs are fucked up."

He was carrying me. I felt his grip under my knees and upper back. I was pressed against his body, probably getting blood all over him.

I opened my mouth like a fish, trying to gulp down the air, but nothing passed through. The lack of oxygen hit my brain and the world slipped from me.

"Stay awake!"

Dorian's voice brought me back. I felt leather against under my palms, and when I peeked through my closed eyelids, I noticed we were in a car.

"Come on." Dorian gripped my chin and forced my mouth open. "Drink this."

I couldn't talk, breathe, think.

Liquid poured down my throat, mixing with my own blood in my mouth. I coughed, losing half the blood he made me drink.

"Odette." His voice cracked, and something about it, something about the sound of it, made me almost smile. "You need blood. Please – please – drink!"

My eyes rolled back, and everything turned black.

Pain spread through my cheek, pulling me right back, and I almost laughed when I realised Dorian slapped me to keep me awake.

More blood slid down my throat, and Dorian forced my mouth shut when I tried to cough. Numbness ceased, replaced by sharp pain. After a couple of gulps, I managed to breathe in.

"That's it, you're doing great, dragostea." Dorian's voice sounded muffled and far away.

He forced more blood down my throat, and alertness returned gradually, making me aware of every shredded nerve and tissue in my body. A scattered cry fell off my lips.

"It's okay." He touched my face with the back of his hand, the gesture so surprisingly gentle. "You're fine. Nothing a little blood can't fix."

But his voice didn't match his words.

No, he sounded unhinged – terrified, even.

"Can you hold this?" A warm bottle ended up in my hand.

I tried to speak, but couldn't, so I simply nodded, trying to tighten my grip.

"Drink." Dorian commanded.

Finally, I opened my eyes enough to see what was going on.

We were in a car, and I was lying in the backseat, my head pressed against the door handle in a weird angle. Dorian sat next to me. He wore grey t-shirt and sweatpants, an attire I've probably never seen him in. Blood covered his arms, all the way to his elbows, and his shirt. His silver hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it aside. His hands were shaking.

I tried to decipher his expression.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes wide, and he stared ahead, every now and then shouting at the driver to hurry up.

I brought the bottle to my lips, and the more I drank, the less pain I felt.

This was all because I refused to drink straight from the vein, and I knew it. Damn hospital food almost killed me. A measly bullet through the lung almost killed me.

The car stopped abruptly, and Dorian got out first.

I tried to push myself up, but couldn't. My limbs still didn't remember how to work. The door behind me opened, and strong hands ended up under my armpits.

"Come on." Dorian pulled me out, one hand hooking my upper back and the other reaching under my knees. "Up we go."

He carried me into his home. The moment the door closed, he started to shout.

"Cherry! We need blood!"

My head fell back as another wave of exhaustion washed over me.

"What?" A chirpy female voice – a voice I couldn't stand – came from afar. "What happened?"

"Tell everyone to leave." Dorian commanded. "We're going into lockdown. And get me some blood, right now."

"What the hell happened to her?"

"Someone attacked her."

Differently patterned walls exchanged before my eyes – the pastel-coloured tapestry of the hallway, the dark oak wood of the staircase, the pastel tapestry again. We burst through the door. Another change in the colour of the walls occurred – soft grey paint and bookshelves.

I remembered Dorian's bedroom from another life.

Dorian put me down on the sofa, and replaced the now cold bottle in my hand with another, this one fresh and warm. I didn't complain, and chugged the contents as quickly as possible. Pain gradually left my body with each gulp.

I heard Cherry's voice somewhere in the distance, "It's not fair that she's allowed in here."

"She almost died." Dorian responded.

"Still."

"Cherry." Dorian's voice sounded unhinged once again. "I need a minute."

"Fine." The girl scoffed, her heels tapping against the parquet as she walked away.

My breathing finally evened out and the mere act didn't cause immense pain anymore. I looked up, staring at the grey ceiling and the round lamp, emitting warm light. Someone chattered in the distance, and as the chatter grew quieter, I could hear my strained heartbeat.

I glanced down at myself: the white shirt I wore was completely drenched in blood, wet against my skin, and there was a hole where the bullet pierced me. But the wound itself was almost healed, leaving behind pink burning skin. Not everything was right inside, but it would be after a few more bottles of blood.

I turned my head to the side, needing to look around the room, just to see if it had changed.

It hadn't.

Bookshelves still lined the grey walls, full of books he's never read. But I knew he cherished each one, even those he's never had the time to touch. There was a table on the opposite side of the queen-sized bed with a laptop and a table lamp on. Papers lay scattered on it. I noticed the framed picture, the same that's been there for more than ten years now. Him and Elena on the road trip in the Glacier National Park, Montana. I took the picture.

Dorian's room was always clean, way cleaner than mine ever was. He took care of his things, made sure nothing was chipped or broken or stained. How could someone with so much inward chaos be so outwardly orderly?

Through the pain in my lung, another ache burst. Memories overwhelmed me. I've spent so much time in this room, lying on this very sofa, Dorian sitting on the floor, and Elena looming over him on the grey silky sheets. He was on the bed now, leaned against his knees, looking at me, and Elena was nowhere to be found.

I couldn't grasp everything I felt: shame, guilt, embarrassment, gratitude. But most of all, relief. My grip around the blood bottle tightened, and I put my legs on the floor, switching to a sitting position.

For a long moment, Dorian and I stared at each other. I had no idea what to tell him, and I had no idea how to interpret his gaze. Anger brewed behind the dark blue irises, but there was something else too. Something hidden deeper down. I wanted to look away, but it was like he held my gaze in place, not allowing me to move, to escape this strange moment.

"You slapped me." I broke the unbearable silence.

He shrugged, "Sorry about that. I had to keep you awake."

A long, shuddering breath left my body, "I fucked up."

"I can tell by the gunshot wound in your right lung."

I unscrewed the lid on the bottle and drank, feeling more alive with each gulp. God, how I've missed the real, unrefrigerated blood.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Dorian asked, making me raise my eyebrow.

"The good?"

"Whoever attacked you thought you were human."

I sighed, "That sounds neutral."

"Definitely good." Dorian didn't smile. "Because the bad news is that they weren't trying to send a message, they went for the kill. If they had known you were a vampire, they wouldn't have just left you there bleeding."

I leaned against the soft backrest and closed my eyes. Of course, I guessed what this was about. I went snooping where I shouldn't have. The Sergeant's house was bugged. I brought this on myself. But I was here now, and I needed to do something about it.

Maybe I shouldn't trust Dorian with this information, but he did save my life. To give credit where credit is due. So I risked it, because there was nothing else to do.

"Edmond is trafficking humans from third world countries." I let out before I could change my mind. "Jax found out and attacked his Sergeant because of it. I went to talk to the Sergeant, and I think his house was bugged."

Dorian's unwavering expressionless gaze caught me by surprise.

"You know." I breathed out. "How do you know?"

He stood up, walked over to one of the bookshelves, and opened a cupboard underneath. When he turned back around, he had a crystal bottle shaped like a lion's head, filled with see-through liquor in his hand.

Of course he had liquor hidden in his room. Chaos pouring through the cracks of the seeming order.

Without saying anything, he poured some of the liquor in two crystal glasses resting on the table.

"Dorian-"

"I found out two years ago. After the reveal."

He gave me the glass, and I took it with my free hand.

"Please, continue." I raised my eyebrow, taking a sip of the strong drink, then washing it down with blood.

Dorian sat back on the bed in the same position.

"I've been gathering intel on the operation for a while now." Dorian looked down, the silver strands hiding his face. "They made poor Serge into a bait. He's just sitting there and waiting for someone to come snooping. Then they off the snooper."

The blood and liquor churned in my stomach.

Dorian buried his face in his hands, "You shouldn't have gone there alone."

"Why would they think I'm human?"

"Edmond outsources a lot, there is a possibility this didn't even reach him." He looked up. "I assume you didn't give them your name?"

"No, I used Sonya Solovyova."

A ghost of a smile reached Dorian's face, contrasting his usual smiles so much it took me aback. He remembered Sonya, from back when we used her name to get into clubs together. The memory resurfaced, and I had to remind myself I still hated this man, even if he showed compassion every once in a while.

"Why didn't you just kill him?" I asked. "You say you've been gathering intel for a while, but you could have just killed him instead! How many people need to get hurt before you-"

"If I kill him, dozens of more powerful and ruthless vampires come after me." Dorian leaned forward, his eyes glinting with familiar chaos. "This is a large operation, Odette, and almost everyone is involved. I'm not even sure how far this goes."

Sudden dizziness slapped me, and prickling nausea upturned my stomach. Dorian's expression twisted, like he noticed the slight change in me.

"I think you need to rest now." He said. "We can talk about this-"

"Edmond is keeping underage girls captive." I blabbed.

The concern evaporated from his gaze, replaced by sheer anger. The moment I saw it, some tightly tied knot loosened within me, and I began talking, pouring everything out like I wanted to confess my sins.

"He got one of them pregnant." I continued, and Dorian was out of his seat in a second, confusion erasing everything else from his expression. "And I've been taking care of her for the past thirteen months, but I'm broke, and the goddamn doctor is making me pay for his silence, but I don't think I can pay, and she's going to die-"

"Odette." Dorian put both his hands on my shoulders, and the sudden proximity made my breath hitch. "Rewind and repeat. What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's pregnant, Dorian." Tears filled my eyes. "She's human."

"That's not possible." He turned his head slightly, like he tried to look away from it. "Human bodies can't handle vampire-"

"I know." I nodded. "You can check if you don't believe me. Her name is Lucia. My mom's doctor, Martin, is treating her. But he's too expensive, and I can't pay, and I can't get a job because I punched a customer in the face-"

He moved away from me and sat back on the bed. The fact he retreated made me shut up. He didn't believe me. Why would he? Why would anyone believe something so absurd?

Dorian's eyes closed, and I couldn't see what happened inside, he cut off my chance to see what he was thinking. Then again, I've never been able to read him. My heart beat steadily in my chest, still sore and tired from nearly dying. But my mind remained alert, and my eyes glued to him.

Dorian opened his eyes, "How much do you need?"

My shoulders slumped and a tidal wave of relief damn near drowned me. Tears slid freely down my cheeks, ending in my mouth as I spoke.

"A hundred grand, I think." I blubbered. "Maybe more. She's in a hospital right now, and that's going to cost-"

Dorian stood up and I shut up. He walked to the table again, took out a paper block, and scribbled something down. I held my breath while I waited, even though it caused sharp pain in my right lung.

"Here. Two hundred grand." He gave me the check. "I can't believe I'm paying to have Edmond's offspring roaming around, but it doesn't matter. We'll use it to burn everything he stands for to the fucking ground."

The rest of what he said trailed off.

It felt like waking up too early and realising you still had a few hours of sleep left. It felt like entering a warm room after being out in the cold for hours. Deep, soothing calm washed over me, and my mind heard nothing but silence.

My head dropped on the sofa as I finally fell asleep. 

Translation: 

dragostea - love