A few days ago
Dante opened his eyes to a familiar white ceiling. The sharp scent of antiseptic drifted from his bandaged wounds, something he was not used to. He inhaled slowly and grimaced.
This was embarrassing.
His first real mission and he had failed miserably. How was he supposed to face his grandfather now? The capos already doubted his abilities and he had just given them more reason.
He dragged a hand over his face, messing up his hair in frustration.
"If that Giant hadn't shown up, I would have won," he muttered.
The door opened at that exact moment and the Hound stepped inside.
"You awake? The doctor said the bullet left a hole in your bone, but you will be fine." He lit a cigarette without hesitation.
"Smoking in the hospital is prohibited."
"Seriously? I come from a mafia group. Why would I care about rules?" He raised a brow as if Dante had asked the strangest question ever.
"Never mind," Dante sighed. "You are not letting Vincent go, right?"
