Another glance at the mirror, one palm pushing his hair back. A grimace. “Think I’m gonna need stitches…” It’s grumbled more to himself than to his younger brother. He’ll have everything he needs as soon as he gets back to his place anyway; a set of non-absorbable prolene sutures, some lignocaine, and with any luck, a steady hand.
Steadier than he’s feeling at the moment, anyway.
‘Gid… I think it’s time you got around the clock security detail, too. ‘
“No.” He answers peevishly, more abruptly than Damon deserves. “Try explaining that one to Nora.” It’s unfair to bring her up like this, or allude to the circumstances that had led to his brother’s break-up from the well-loved nurse, but therein lies the problem. A security detail for a simple surgeon would raise too many questions — even as a Rutherford. “… I’ll be fine.” He adds more gently after a beat. It isn’t the most convincing statement, but he’s eager to change topics.
“Dunno… Never seen the man before in my life. One of them, Vincenzo, he tried to call him off. Melissa seemed to know that one well enough; says his last name’s Vespucci. Some kind of mafioso leader.” He walks over to the couch, readily eyeing the whiskey Damon’s cracked open. Gideon drops beside him with a heavy sigh.
“What do you know about the Italians?” He asks, reaching for the spare glass. And then, maybe selfishly, “Fuck... I don’t wanna owe my life to Melissa Lin of all people.”
His brother taking stock of his injuries made Damon’s head drop even lower. How long would this be the reality of their lives? Tending to wounds - literal and metaphorical. God, he loved his father with his entire heart, but he’d never understand him. “How bad is it? I’ll drive you home, we can talk there, I don’t think I have anything other than a few painkillers here,” Damon looked around his room as if he’d magically discover a new batch of medical supplies.
"It’s necessary, Gid. We’re talking life and death. Next time there might not be Melissa, or anyone else around. Try explaining that to Felix, to...” ‘to me. to our sisters,’ he thought to himself, but didn’t say it out loud. “Besides, Nora isn’t blind to how violent London can be. She had Ethan’s body parts delivered to her doorstep for fuck’s sake.” It was more to convince himself maybe, than just Gideon. There were so many things he needed to explain to Nora, but so many things that kept him from doing so, and hurting her topped that list.
“Vincenzo Vespucci...” Damon repeated in an attempt to jog his memory, but nothing. “Another mafioso leader? Wonderful. We didn’t enough of those running around.” He rolled his eyes. How many people would be pulled into this war? Defeated, Damon handed the glass of whiskey to his brother. He younger Rutherford was still convinced Gideon should’ve gotten a security detail, but he couldn’t help but think of poor Callum, his own bodyguard who died protecting Damon. He’d carry that guilt till the rest of his life, and as much as he didn’t want Gideon to have to do the same, - he’d rather he saw his brother safe and alive.
“Not much. I do know they were in Porto, too, though. I’m pretty sure Alessandra had some ties with them. She was quite upset when that woman died.” Damon side-eyed his brother, “Get off your high horse, man. If mom chose to be her friend, she must have some redeeming qualities, I guess.”
