Page 24 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

T he bathroom vapor clings to my skin as I step out of the bath. Water had turned cool fifteen minutes ago, but I couldn't bring myself to leave its embrace.

I wrap a towel around myself, surprised by how exhausted the simple movement leaves me. My fingers tremble as I reach for the clean clothes Zoe left earlier.

Voices drift from the bedroom. My muscles tense automatically before I recognize them. Not men. Not Jackson. Not my father's guards.

I crack the door open, steam escaping into the cooler air of the guest suite. Zoe and Lucrezia sit at the edge of the bed, their conversation halting as they notice me. Behind them stands an older man with silver-streaked hair and kind eyes. The doctor who treated me after the casino.

"There she is," Lucrezia says, her voice gentle like she's talking to a spooked animal. Maybe she is. "How was your bath?"

"Fine," I whisper, clutching the towel tighter. "Thank you."

Zoe comes forward, holding out a soft robe. "Here, put this on. Dr. Romano needs to check you over."

My throat tightens. "I—I don't?—"

"It's okay," Zoe says, her green eyes soft with understanding. "We'll stay if you want. Or we can step out."

"Stay," I manage. "Please."

I slip the robe on while Lucrezia turns away to give me privacy, though Zoe helps me when my arms shake too much to manage the sleeves. The fabric feels impossibly soft against my tender skin.

"Miss Sterling," he says, keeping his distance until I look up at him. "May I examine your injuries?"

I nod, sinking onto the edge of the bed. His hands are cool and clinical as he checks the bruising along my jaw, the cut on my lip. Nothing like Jackson's grip.

"Does it hurt when you breathe deeply?" he asks.

I take a careful breath. "A little. Not too bad."

He presses gently along my ribs, watching my face for signs of pain. I've gotten good at hiding it, but something in his eyes tells me he knows anyway.

"The good news is nothing appears to be broken," he finally says, stepping back and closing his medical bag. "The bruising looks worse than it is. Your body has been through significant stress, but physically, you're going to be alright."

Relief washes through me, though I hadn't realized I was worried. So many worse things have happened to me than a backhand from Jackson .

"I'm going to leave some mild pain medication," Dr. Romano continues, placing a small bottle on the nightstand. "One every six hours if needed. And I strongly recommend rest. Your body needs time to recover from both the physical trauma and the shock."

He speaks to me directly, not over my head to Zoe or Lucrezia. It feels strange to be addressed as a person with agency rather than a problem to be managed.

"Thank you," I say, surprised by the sincerity in my voice.

Dr. Romano packs the last of his supplies. "Call me if anything changes or if the pain worsens." He gives me a gentle smile before nodding to the women and heading toward the door.

When he's gone, Lucrezia perches beside me on the bed, careful not to sit too close.

"Are you hungry?" she asks. "Ginerva made soup."

The thought of food turns my stomach, but I know I should eat something. "Maybe later."

I sit in awkward silence after Dr. Romano leaves, clutching the robe tighter around myself.

"You'll need clothes," Zoe says, breaking the silence. "I brought some basics earlier, but they're not much."

I look down, unsure what to say. The idea of someone shopping for me feels intimate to me.

"When you're feeling better, we should order you some new things," Zoe continues, her hand unconsciously resting on the gentle swell of her stomach. "Really, whatever you want."

"I couldn't possibly-" I start.

"You can," she interrupts firmly. "And you should."

I stare at her, this woman I barely know who speaks with such certainty. Her pregnancy is visible but not pronounced. The bump curves slightly against her fitted top, a physical reminder of how different our lives are.

Zoe must notice my gaze because her expression softens. She moves closer, sitting on the bed near me but not touching. Giving me space while still bridging the gap between us.

"The first thing I did when I truly got away from my situation was buy clothes that were actually mine," she says quietly. "Things I chose. It seems small, but it matters."

I swallow hard, surprised by the unexpected lump in my throat. "Your situation?"

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Different from yours, but let's just say I understand what it means to be controlled." Her hand returns to her belly. "To have your life treated like it belongs to someone else."

"I'll get you some of my things to wear for now," Zoe says, standing carefully. "We're not exactly the same size, but they'll do until we order you something that's just yours."

"Thank you," I whisper, the words feeling inadequate.

T he heavy silence settles between us after Zoe leaves. Lucrezia's eyes, dark and watchful like her brother's, flicker to my face and away again.

"How are you really doing?" she asks finally, her voice gentle.

I'm searching for words. "I don't know," I admit. "Numb, maybe? It doesn't feel real yet."

Lucrezia nods, understanding in her eyes. "I get that. When bad things happen, sometimes your brain needs time to catch up. "

I remember what Enzo said about her being hurt three months ago, though he never explained how.

"If you ever want to talk about anything," she continues, "I'm here. No pressure. Just sometimes it helps to speak to someone who might understand a little."

I look down at my hands again, seeing the faint marks on my wrists where I'd been grabbed. "Thank you," I say, meaning it. "But I think I need to talk to Enzo first."

She watches me carefully. "My brother can be a lot. He's overprotective, stubborn, thinks he knows what's best for everyone."

"I noticed," I say, the words coming out drier than intended.

A small smile touches her lips. "But underneath all that he's a good man. The best I know, actually."

"He seems intense."

Lucrezia laughs, the sound bright in the quiet room. "That's putting it mildly. You know he once drove six hours to pick me up from college when a date stood me up? Showed up at my dorm with ice cream and a baseball bat."

Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. "The baseball bat was for...?"

"Accessorizing, obviously," she says with mock seriousness. "Though I think my date's kneecaps were in serious danger if Enzo had found him."

The image is so absurd and yet so fitting with what I know of Enzo, that I almost smile.

"He makes this face when he's trying to be intimidating," she continues, scrunching her features into an exaggerated scowl. "Like he's constipated but trying to look dangerous."

A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it, surprising us both .

"There it is," Lucrezia says, looking pleased.

I look down, thinking about how he'd protected me, how he'd bled to keep me safe. "He seems to care a lot about you."

"He does," she agrees, her voice softening. "About all of us. Family means everything to him."

I glance toward the door, thinking about Damiano's stern face when they brought me in. Unlike Enzo's concern, his expression had been guarded, suspicious.

"Your brother—Damiano—he doesn't really want me here, does he?" I ask, voicing the thought that's been nagging at me.

Lucrezia sighs, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Damiano's complicated. He's the head of the family, so he has to think about everyone's safety first."

"So I'm a liability," I murmur, staring down at my hands.

"You're someone who needs help," Lucrezia corrects gently. "And even if he's cautious, Damiano would never turn away someone who needs protection. Especially not after what happened to me."

She falls silent for a moment, and I wonder again what exactly happened three months ago. The same pain I've seen in Enzo's eyes flickers across her face before she masks it.

"Besides," she continues with a forced lightness, "my big brother is way worse than Enzo when it comes to the whole brooding, dangerous mafia man act."

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Worse than Enzo?"

Lucrezia laughs, the sound genuine this time. "Oh, absolutely. Damiano's the one who taught Enzo that murder glare. You should've seen him when he first met Zoe. All dark looks and intimidation tactics."

"And now? "

Her expression softens. "Now he's a complete teddy bear around her.

It's actually hilarious. This man who makes hardened criminals shake in their boots will literally drop everything if Zoe calls.

Last week she mentioned wanting strawberry gelato at midnight, and Damiano drove forty minutes to find a place that was open. "

I try to reconcile this image with the stern, imposing man I'd seen. "That's... hard to imagine."

"Trust me, we tease him mercilessly about it." Lucrezia grins. "He still tries to look dangerous and intimidating in business meetings, but the minute Zoe walks into a room, he melts. Completely whipped, as Alessio would say."

The thought of these dangerous men having such ordinary, tender sides is strangely comforting. As if perhaps they're more human than the monsters I've known all my life.

I slip back into the bathroom to change, grateful for the moment of privacy. The clothes Zoe brought are simple but nice. I pick a soft pink sweater and black leggings, running my fingers over the fabric before putting them on.

"I brought enough for a few days," Zoe had said, placing a small stack of neatly folded clothes on the bed. "Underwear, socks, pajamas, some basics. I wasn't sure when you'd be able to get more, so I brought options."

I dress carefully, my body still aching from Jackson's blows. The leggings slide easily over my legs, and the sweater settles softly against my skin.