Page 73 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Sixty-Two

Scarlett

The grannies were sitting in Dimitri’s living room when we finally entered the building.

They took one look at Dimitri’s mother, and Russian erupted like gunfire—sharp, furious, and unapologetically loud.

Audrey stepped out of the kitchen first, Carina right behind her. They both froze when they saw us.

Audrey’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

Carina blinked. “What the hell happened?”

We must’ve looked like we’d walked straight out of a warzone—because, in a way, we had.

Dimitri’s shirt was bloodstained at the collar where I’d leaned against him, Don cradling Mrs. Cristof even though she insisted she didn’t need to be babied, and I probably looked like a ghost dragged out of hell.

“Why didn’t you call us?” Grandmother demanded in English, her eyes blazing. “We would’ve come with knives!”

“Or guns!” Nana shouted as she inspected her daughter on the couch.

“We didn’t know what we were walking into,” Dimitri muttered, voice tight. He hadn’t looked away from me once. “I didn’t exactly know he had our mother.”

“She’s bleeding,” Grandmother hissed, her gaze locked on my ankles. “Bring her here.”

Dimitri hesitated for only a second before gently easing me onto the other couch, facing Mrs. Cristof.

The moment I sat down, I was surrounded—blankets, towels, a mug of something warm pressed into my hand.

Carina grabbed the med kit from the hall closet.

Audrey hovered beside me, chewing her lip like she wanted to cry but wouldn’t.

“Scarlett?” Audrey finally whispered, crouching in front of me. “Are you okay?”

No. I wasn’t. My shoulder throbbed with every breath. My body felt like it had been slammed through concrete. And my mind? It was stuck—looping on the elevator, the duct tape, the secret room, and the moment I thought I might never see Dimitri again.

But I looked up at her and nodded anyway.

“I’m here,” I whispered. “That’s enough for now.”

As if I wasn’t in the room, Carina leaned toward her husband. “Should we bring them to a hospital?”

Audrey crouched in front of me. “Did they… they didn’t… Uh. Um. Maybe we should bring you to a hospital?”

“No,” I said quietly. “They didn’t touch me.”

A collective exhale swept the room—relief, tempered by horror.

“But they were going to,” I added, my voice cracking. “He mentioned he was going to sell me… break me…”

Everything stopped.

Carina froze in place. Audrey’s hands fisted on her knees. The grannies stilled like statues. Even Don’s usually unreadable face twisted into something murderous.

Dimitri’s jaw locked so tight I thought he might shatter it. And then—silently—a single tear slid down his cheek. He didn’t blink and didn’t move. He just let it fall.

No one said a word. There wasn’t anything to say.

Grandmother, who’d been tending to the abrasions at my ankles, paused. She looked up at me—really looked—and her eyes glistened with something fierce and ancient.

She didn’t ask me to repeat it. She didn’t say sorry. She just blinked and then went right back to cleaning my wounds.

Audrey sat beside me on the couch and pulled my hand into hers. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her grip was steady and grounding, her silence more comforting than any words could’ve been.

Carina hovered for a moment, then knelt at my other side and placed a glass of water on the coffee table.

She didn’t push it toward me. Just set it there, within reach.

She grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over my still half-naked body.

Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked it away, lips pressed in a tight line.

Dimitri hadn’t left, he simply stood there across the room like a statue carved from grief and fury.

“Why don’t the two of you go see about making up a room for my mother?” he said, voice low.

Audrey and Carina didn’t blink. No hesitation. No questions. Just a quiet understanding as they exchanged a glance and moved toward the stairs.

Nana stayed at her post, dabbing a cloth into an ointment and carefully smoothing it over Mrs. Cristof’s face, wrists, and ankles.

The two of them spoke in hushed Russian—words I couldn’t understand, but didn’t need to.

The tremble in their voices said enough.

The way Nana’s fingers trembled against the skin of her daughter, the way she blinked a little too often—like keeping those tears at bay required every ounce of strength she had left.

I let my gaze drift. Don and Dimitri’s brothers were all seated at the kitchen island, surrounding a phone. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I could still see the rage on their faces and in the way they moved. They wouldn’t let their father get away. They were making a plan.

Dimitri crossed the space to me in two long strides, dropped to his knees in front of me, and cupped the side of my face—so gentle it nearly undid me.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“You didn’t do this,” I managed, throat tight.

“But I didn’t stop it in time.” His thumb brushed under my eye where another tear had slipped free. “I will never be late again.”

“This isn’t on you,” my voice shook.

He leaned forward to look into my eyes. “I will make sure you feel safe again. I’ll tear his entire empire down.”

There was a commotion at the front of the brownstone as someone tried to get inside.

I was too weak to peek around to see what was going on.

Ivan was shouting something and Griffin was sitting on the stairs pale-faced.

Dimitri shook his head. “Let them in, they’ll burn down the building if we don’t. ”

“Damn straight!” Cleo barked as she barged past Vance and Ivan. I didn’t know when Vance arrived, but it was nice to have him here too.

Oliver pushed his glasses up on his nose—a nervous tick he’d had since we were kids—and followed right on Cleo’s heels. They took one look at me on the couch and rushed forward.

“Are you okay?”

“Tell us everything!”

They spoke all at once. Tears filled my eyes again as they collapsed beside me. Cleo wasn’t wearing a wig today and her blonde hair was bright against her dark skin. “You’re alive! That’s all that matters. That’s all we care about.”

Oliver wasn’t as vocal about his relief but I could see it in his eyes. “Tell us what we can do and we will do so without complaint.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s nice to have both of you here.”

Cleo got off of the floor and wrapped her arms around me tightly. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so sorry.”

Oliver’s eyes glassed over as he looked around the room. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I didn’t know…”

I leaned forward to cup his cheek in my hand. “You didn’t know. This isn’t any of your fault.”

He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes.

Dimitri tapped on Oliver’s shoulder and motioned for him to follow.

Any other time, I would have been nervous but I knew Dimitri would never hurt one of my best friends.

My mind and body were too tired to worry about what they were speaking about.

All I could do was smile softly as they both disappeared down the hall. My two worlds had officially collided.

A few hours later I was all dressed, bandaged up, and Don was telling everyone they needed to leave.

Dimitri’s mother had already retired to the guest bedroom down the hall.

Don and Vance were posted in the living room and everyone promised they would be back the next day.

Especially Audrey and Carina, I could see it in their eyes as they stared all the men down as they were ushered out of Dimitri’s home.

They would probably be back bright and early the next morning, which would be nice.

I wasn’t too thrilled about having to sit in the silence.

That was when the ghosts came out to play and I knew this time they would be even worse.

Dimitri’s room was darker than I remembered it.

The heavy curtains were drawn, the only light coming from the warm glow of a single bedside lamp.

Everything smelled like him—cedarwood, leather, a whisper of something sharp and clean beneath it all.

It wrapped around me like a second blanket as I sank onto the edge of his bed.

I was wrapped up in a towel as Dimitri had insisted showering would make me feel better.

It hadn’t. Numb, I stood under the spray until he finally pulled me out of the steaming water.

He knelt in front of me, his hands braced gently on my knees. “I’m going to get something for your shoulder, okay? Would you like something to wear to bed?”

I nodded, too tired to speak. My body was starting to crash—adrift somewhere between pain and numbness. My shoulder throbbed in dull, persistent waves.

He came back a second later with a t-shirt, a heating pad, and a bottle of ibuprofen. The shirt was soft and worn, and it smelled like him.

“I’ll help,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent.

I didn’t protest.

With careful hands, he peeled the towel away, his eyes never leaving mine. There was nothing hungry in his gaze—only reverence, worry, and something far more devastating. Love, maybe. Or the beginnings of it.

He slipped the shirt over my head gently, working around my injured shoulder, like I might break under his touch. I winced as he helped thread my good arm through first, then eased the fabric down over the bruises and ache.

He handed me the water and ibuprofen wordlessly. I swallowed the pills, then let him guide me back onto the bed. The sheets were cool and soft, and the moment I sank into them, my body nearly gave out with exhaustion.

Dimitri crouched again, plugging in the heating pad and tucking it carefully against my shoulder before pulling the blankets up to my chest.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “I won’t leave you.”

I nodded, eyes glassy. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for finding me.”

He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “There is no world where I wouldn’t have.”

He stood then, looking down at me like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to join me. Like he didn’t want to cross a line.

“Stay,” I said, reaching out with my good hand. “Please.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Dimitri slid under the covers beside me and pulled me gently into his arms, cradling me. His warmth bled into me, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered into my hair. “I promise.”

I didn’t reply but quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.