Pure panic steals my calm as Serenity goes limp in my arms, and I can’t stop myself from calling her name. I splay my fingers around her head and press her front against mine with my forearm along her spine as I surge to my feet. I prop her ass on my arm and hold her tight to me so I can feel her heart beating and rasping breaths.
“Take care of him,” I say to her bodyguards with a tilt of my head toward her prone classmate after they step out of my way. “Stay with me,” I snarl to Ermanno, needing all the backup I can get since my arms are full of precious cargo.
He nods and pulls out his phone as he follows.
I stalk through the studio and exit through the broken floor-length window—willing to break the pane all over again if it means getting to Serenity a millisecond faster and saving her from her terror sooner—and lay her out in the backseat of my car. Ermanno jumps into the passenger seat without question. I shut the back door and drop into the driver’s seat before shutting my door—which I left open when I threw the car in park—and drive off the grass.
“Doc knows we’re coming?” I ask Ermanno as I adjust the review mirror. Serenity doesn’t move in the backseat.
“Yeah, boss. He’s ready,” he confirms.
My worry grows with every passing moment as Serenity remains unconscious. I pull up to the emergency entrance and park right in front of the door. No one complains when I get out and leave both doors open before scooping Serenity out of the backseat. The doctor and several nurses rush forward and meet us before I reach the entrance. They offer me a stretcher, but I can’t let go of my woman in such a public space when she’s so vulnerable, so I snarl for them to lead the way and hurry down the hall with her in my arms.
She stirs as I settle her into her hospital bed. Doctor Hennessy, an old friend of my father who doesn’t mind doing a few favors for the Russo family, immediately leans over her from the other side of the bed. He peels apart her eyelids and shines a flashlight directly over her pupil.
Serenity grimaces and swats at his arm, but he catches her wrist and offers it to me.
“Calm her. Do your job so I can do mine.”
The curt old man hits directly where it hurts.
If I’d have done my job, she wouldn’t be here.
I push away my agonized thoughts and take both her hands.
“Be still, principessa. You’re safe. I’m here.”
She whines and turns her head away when the doctor reaches for her other eye.
“Let the doc check you, Serenity,” I demand.
“It hurts,” she says.
“Where? What hurts?” I ask.
“My head.”
“What kind of pain? Where in your head?” Doctor Hennessy takes over.
“Behind my eyes.”
“Are you dizzy?” he asks.
“Yes.”
She hisses when he runs his fingers over her scalp.
“Contusion on her right side. Fluids, ice, and acetaminophen, stat,” he says to the nurse.
“Do you hurt anywhere else?” I ask.
“No,” she responds.
Her fingers ooze blood and her jeans gape open, but she slips in and out of a doze, only responding when someone touches her head or face. In a flurry of coordinated chaos, the medical team takes her vitals, gives her a quick head-to-toe check for obvious injuries, and coaxes her to swallow some pills.
When the nurse cleans the crook of her arm and inserts the IV, she turns her face to mine and squints at me for the briefest of moments.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs.
“Don’t lie to me, principessa.”
She scrunches her brow but hisses in pain and stops.
“I didn’t hit that hard. I never blacked out,” she continues, but her voice lacks its normal strength.
“Yeah, well, let the doc take care of you anyway,” I insist.
She sighs and murmurs an apology before falling asleep. My heart lurches in my chest, but Hennessy pats my shoulder and assures me she’s just resting.
When the nurse brings a gown, I take it from her and snarl for everyone but her to leave the room.
“Do you want us to check for sexual assault?” Doctor Hennessy asks.
“No,” I snarl.
He nods and shuts the door behind him. I recall the nurse’s face from the night shift when we cleared the warehouse. She gathers supplies for a sponge bath before waiting on the other side of the bed with the slightest trace of concern on her face. Her efficiency and compassion are the only reason I allowed her to stay in the room.
We work together with no need to exchange words. I lift and undress while she cleans and clothes. Bruises color Serenity’s shoulder, hip, knees, and elbows.
Mia principessa fought so hard. Her screams and the sounds of struggle I heard over the phone echo in my ears.
I should have gotten to her faster. She should never have been in danger. I should have demanded her guards go with her everywhere, including her classroom, instead of agreeing to limit them to the hall.
Serenity jerks when the nurse pours water over her hand, but I keep her wrist poised above the bedpan. After an efficient inspection and cleaning, the nurse bandages her fingertips and gathers all the used supplies as I wash my hands and take off my stained button down. My white undershirt smells of acrid stress sweat and violence despite me taking a shower less than three hours ago, so I send Ermanno a text as I stride across the room.
“Doctor Hennessy will be in to check on you in a few minutes,” the nurse says before leaving.
I pull the chair from the table to Serenity’s bedside and wrap my hand around her forearm. She’s too delicate. My heart aches as my adrenaline fades and memories rise. I replay the terrifying moments from when she answered my call to now. My mind weaves older nightmares into the mix. Natalie’s arms were much smaller than Serenity’s are now, but compared to my hands, she seems just as fragile as my infant sister.
I push the musings aside and weave my fingers into hers.
She’s fine. She’ll be okay.
She fought hard and protected herself until I could get there.
Guilt hits me hard as I recall how harsh I was in the car before we met her parents, but I need her to never put herself in this kind of situation again.
She shifts and lifts her lashes before whispering, “Lights?”
I interpret her request and use the remote to turn off the overhead fluorescents and dim the side lamps. She sighs and winces before flexing her fingers in mine.
“Where do you hurt?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” she says.
I growl and kiss the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I make a noncommittal sound and kiss higher on her hand.
“You probably hate the hospital,” she says with a sob.
I peel my lips away from her wrist, stand, brace my elbow on the far side of the bed near her shoulder, and stroke my fingertips over her face.
“Hush, principessa. I don’t hate the hospital. Calm down and tell me why you think I should,” I demand to hide the panic growing in my chest as she cries harder.
Her grip tightens on my fingers, cutting off my circulation, but she calms after a minute and speaks in a raspy voice.
“I came to see you after the accident when your mom died. The nurses told us to stay away because you were violent,” she hiccups and tugs my hand closer to her side, “but when I started crying, you gave me your hand.”
I run my thumb over her bottom lip.
“I don’t remember,” I admit.
A fresh tear trails over her temple, but I wipe it away before it reaches her hairline.
“Don’t let go,” she whispers.
“I won’t,” I promise.
She inhales a jagged breath before latching her other hand on top of our woven fingers.
“Tell me why you don’t hate the hospital.”
I study her pale face, note her pinched expression, and recognize her request for what it is: she wants me to talk to her as she dips in and out of consciousness. She wants me as her tether to reality as she relives today’s nightmare.
I kiss her cheek and trail my fingers down her delicate neck before I sit down and wrap my hand around her thigh over her blanket, giving her yet another connection to the present.
“I spent many years going in and out of the hospital for Natalie, and I still take her to all her appointments. It was scary at first, but the little menace carried happiness no matter where she went or how much she was hurting. I couldn’t hate the hospital when the doctors and nurses were the reason she was still alive.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you took her. She never mentioned it. That’s so sweet,” she murmurs, already slipping into another nap.
My gut clenches. If she knew guilt was the driving force behind my insistence on chaperoning my sister’s doctor visits, she may feel different, but I cling to the hope that her soft heart will forgive me. I know I never will.
“I wish I had someone who’d support me like that,” she mumbles.
“You do, Serenity,” I say, but she relaxes into an exhausted slumber.
Ermanno arrives with a change of clothes, so I take a quick shower and return to her bedside with dripping hair. She sleeps through an IV bag change and a visit from Doctor Hennessy but wakes for another dose of pain meds and to use the bathroom. When I carry her back to the bed, she refuses to release my nape.
“Lay with me?” she asks.
The strength in her arms sends relief through me.
“Fuck yeah, I will. I thought you’d never ask, principessa,” I rumble and settle us both onto the tiny hospital bed.
She wraps herself around me, hooking her leg over my thighs and resting the uninjured side of her head over my heart. After untangling her IV line from my limbs and ensuring she’s fully covered by the blankets, I cocoon her in my arms and take my first full breath since I left her yesterday.
The familiar nurse pokes her head in a few hours later, sees us on the bed together, and leans back to retreat into the hall, but I motion her in. She nods and quietly checks on Serenity’s progress, then disappears into the hallway with barely a sound.
The long, sleepless night of torturing the men Ermanno caught catches up with me, and I jerk awake several times before deciding it isn’t worth risking Serenity’s safety, but when I try to slip off the bed, she blinks awake and tightens her arm around me.
The glare she gives me both amuses me and heats my blood. I chuckle and cup her nape.
“Be careful how you look at me, principessa. My control only goes so far,” I warn.
Her eyes widen and a flush darkens her cheeks as she seems to realize her predicament for the first time.
“Sorry, I just…” She sighs after a moment and lays her head down on my chest. “You scare the shit out of me, but I lo—” she stiffens and cuts herself off. “I mean, I trust you enough not to hurt me.”
When she shivers, I pull her closer.
“Good girl,” I say and kiss her forehead.
She settles her head against me and gives a little wiggle to get comfortable. I dig my fingers into her hip and grind my teeth, but my cock hardens anyway.
She dozes off and on for a few more hours, accepting my help to and from the bathroom and being a good patient as the nurses check on her. When the doctor comes in with discharge papers and instructions to take it easy for a few days, she agrees and thanks him, but when I place her in the passenger seat of my car, she gives a long-suffering sigh and leans her head back.
My sleepwear dwarfs her, but Ermanno wisely refused to go rifling through her clothes and brought an extra set of mine instead.
I don’t stop her from flipping through the radio stations.
The closer we get to the apartment, the more fidgety she becomes, and she tries to argue when I lift her off her feet in the parking garage, but she clamps her mouth closed at my warning look. I carry her to the elevators and don’t set her down until we’re locked in our home.
She grabs the kitchen counter, but I hold on to her until I’m sure she’s balanced properly on the barstool.
“Food and bed,” I demand.
She shakes her head.
“Food, shower, and then bed.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me the cutest pout, but the disgust tugging at her brow convinces me. I nod. She sighs.
“Too much more of that and you’ll pass out,” I quip as I pull a water bottle from the fridge.
“Too much what?” she asks.
I crack open the water and set it on the counter in front of her.
“Sighing.”
“Oh,” she says as she picks up the bottle.
“There are better, filthier reasons to pass out, and I can’t wait to do them to you.”
I smirk as she chokes on the water. Deciding to let her off easy, I turn and pull a few containers from the fridge and set them in front of her. After handing her a fork, I open the lids and let her pick her way through the options. When I offer to warm anything up, she shakes her head, takes a few more bites, then sets down her fork.
The weary set of her shoulders urges me into motion. I carry her to the shower and adjust the water before reaching for the hem of her shirt. She stops me.
“Can I have a moment, please?”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. I cup her chin, but she steps back and shakes her head.
“I’m okay, really. I just need a few minutes alone.”
“No,” I snarl.
She huffs.
“I just want to cry in the shower,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Good. Cry in the shower while I hold you in my arms.”
“Fine,” she snaps, but relief flashes in her eyes.
As I stand with her naked, slippery body against mine with her quiet crying bouncing off the shower walls, I wish I could bury my fist into her classmate’s face a couple dozen more times before slitting his throat. He deserves a hundred brutal deaths for hurting her.
Which makes Ermanno’s text a few hours later even worse.
Ralf escaped and disappeared off the radar as though he never existed.
