Just as Raven snapped to attention, she glared at the man before her. "How do you know her? Who are you?"
Before he could respond, a stinging sensation coursed through her shoulder. She gritted her teeth as the pain intensified with every second.
"I'm Dante Voss," he replied bluntly.
She hardly processed the name before her mind played catch-up. Her eyes went wide. "The Calloway Fixer? That Dante Voss?"
Dante's eyes narrowed, his hand diving into his pocket. His voice fell to a cold, deadly whisper. "How do you know the Calloways? How do you know me?"
Raven sneered, her shoulder throbbing in dull pain. "Aha! So it is true. You are their fixer."
Her adrenaline kicked in once more, overriding the pain. She leapt off her scooty, moving around him with open wonder, examining him from head to toe.
"I knew it!" she grumbled, half-aloud. "And they said I was a fool. Those old fools. Good-for-nothings, money-grubbing—"
She was getting further and further into her tirade before Dante moved forward, covering the distance between them in an instant. His hand flashed out, catching her shoulder.
"What's that?" he barked.
She caught sight of where he was looking and saw the bright red bloom of color spreading across her pale shirt. Seeing blood—her blood—created an unusual wave of lightheadedness.
"Duh. Blood," she said gruffly, trying to play it cool, but her body had other ideas. The initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off in a hurry, and she felt herself getting dizzy.
Dante took a hard breath. "We should get you fixed up. Do you want to drive, or do I?"
The mental picture of this enormous, intimidating man stuffed onto her tiny scooter was so ridiculous that a chuckle burst from her.
"You? On my scooty?" she guffawed. "No. Yeah, no. I'll drive."
She didn't know anything after that.
The last thing she remembered was sitting outside a drugstore, waiting for Dante to pick up some medical supplies—then blacking out.
She came to with the low lighting making her wince. Her shoulder hurt, the ache worse than before. Groggily, she blinked and forced herself to a stand and stumbled towards the door.
She wanted water.
Half-asleep, she walked down the hall and stopped.
There was someone on the couch.
A man.
In her living room.
Her barely awake brain short-circuited, and the only thing she could think of doing was do—she screamed bloody murder.
The shadow sprang up in a fraction of a moment, towering over her before she could even dream of running away.
Too quick.
Too enormous.
Too—
"Oh, for fuck's sake—Raven, it's me."
She cut off midscream, blinking furiously as her vision adjusted. Dante stood before her, half-dying from weariness.
"Right," she croaked, voice raw. "Oh."
Dante rubbed a hand across his face. "I regret everything."
And she fainted again.