Page 16

The car’s tires screech against the gravel as the car skids to a stop outside my house. I’m already out of the back seat before the engine cuts, Jordyn clutched tight against my chest.

The front door bursts open without me touching it. One of my men is already waiting, face grim, holding it wide. By now, they know better than to get in my way.

I head straight for the stairs, straight for the master suite.

“Where’s the goddamn doctor?” I roar over my shoulder as my boots hammer against the marble.

“Five minutes out, Boss,” someone stammers from the hallway.

Five minutes. Might as well be five fucking years. She doesn’t have five minutes.

I hit my bedroom door at full stride and slam it open, carrying her straight into the bathroom.

“Get the shower running!” I bark at the nearest body behind me. “Cold. Full blast. Now. Someone get me some towels.”

The girl bolts forward, fumbles with the taps. I hear the pipes groan and then the water explodes from the showerhead, ice cold and merciless.

I don’t wait.

Still fully clothed, I step into the spray with her in my arms. The freezing water crashes down on us both, soaking through fabric, skin, and bone, but I barely feel it.

Jordyn jerks weakly against me, a broken gasp escaping her lips.

Good girl. Fight, Bambina. Fight your way back to me, come on.

I stand with her under the water, one arm braced behind her back, the other curling around her trembling frame, locking her against me when she goes limp again. I tap her face gently, to help her regain consciousness.

“Come on, wake up, Jordyn. Stay with me,” I growl against her temple. “Breathe. Bambina, come back. Don’t you fucking dare give up now. Come on!”

The cold cuts through everything, through the drugs in her blood, through the dread in my chest, through the darkness consuming her.

Slowly, she stirs. Her head shifts against my shoulder.

Her fingers twitch against my chest. And when she whimpers my name, broken, soft, almost too quiet to hear, I close my eyes and drop my forehead against hers, and swear to whatever god is listening: If she survives through this night, there won’t be a place on this earth safe enough for the motherfucker who did this.

The bathroom floor is soaked, freezing water pooling around us.

My clothes cling to my skin, heavy and ice-cold, but I don't give a fuck.

All that matters is her. I cradle Jordyn tighter against me, rocking her gently under the relentless downpour. Her body trembles against mine...weak and shivering, but that’s good. It means she’s fighting. It means she's still here.

The door slams open behind us. I don’t lift my head. I don’t loosen my grip.

“Mr Russo,” the doctor pants, rushing in, his medical bag swinging from his shoulder.

“I’m here. Let’s get her on the bed so I can examine her.

” I move without a word, both of us dripping wet as I walk from the ensuite through the master bedroom toward my bed and sit on it with Jordyn still in my arms.

“Do what you need to do,” I bark without looking at him, my voice raw.

“But you’re not taking her out of my arms.” He hesitates only a second, then drops to his knees in the pooling puddle beside us and gets to work.

Checking her pupils. Checking her pulse and then injecting something into her upper arm.

..a counteragent to whatever shit she’s taken.

“Do you know what she’s taken or what drug she was given?” He questions, and I shake my head wordlessly.

I hold her. I hold her though it all. Whispering low words against her wet hair. Breathe for her when it feels like she’s too weak to do it herself.

And then I feel a shudder run through her body. A raspy gasp rattling past her lips. Her fingers fist weakly into the front of my soaked shirt.

I go still.

Slowly, very slowly, Jordyn lifts her head. Her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, wet and heavy.

Those cerulean eyes blink open. Glassy...confused and so utterly defeated.

“Ar...” she tries to say, but the word collapses halfway through.

“I'm here,” I whisper, my voice rougher than sandpaper. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jordyn blinks up at me, disoriented, tears spilling over before she can even understand why. I tilt her chin gently so she’s forced to look at me...to see me. I want her to see that she’s safe.

“You’re okay, Bambina,” I murmur, brushing her wet hair off her forehead.“Don’t talk, just focus on your breathing.”

Her chest heaves with a sob, a raw, ugly sound that punches a hole straight through my chest. And then she buries her face against my neck, clinging to me like she’s drowning all over again.

She’s alive and she’s breathing and that’s all that’s important right now.

“I’ll call Bianca and Enzo and tell them you’re here?—”

“No.” Jordyn rasps, her voice hoarse as she pulls her head back to look at me. “Please, Ares, I don’t want them to know what I... what I did.”

My eyes narrow, scanning her pale face, the guilt already etched there. “Fine. I won’t tell Bianca,” I assure her, brushing wet strands of hair away from her face. “But you’re going to tell me everything you remember. Tomorrow.”

Jordyn nods, barely a movement, her head dropping against my shoulder again.

Not tonight.

She’s too fragile.

Too broken.

Later, when she’s strong enough, she’ll tell me. And when she does, I’ll carve the bastard’s name into my fucking soul before I end him. For now, I shift her higher against my chest, adjusting the blanket tighter around her shivering frame. I need to get her out of these wet clothes.

Twice now, I’ve pulled her out of trouble. Twice, we’ve ended up soaked. At this rate, I’ll run out of clothes before she runs out of ways to need saving.

Jordyn’s breathing slows, the tension bleeding out of her inch by inch, until all that’s left is the soft, warm weight of her curled against me.

“You need to get out of these wet clothes before you get sick,” I murmur, my voice softer now, roughened by the edge of panic still flowing out of me.

Standing up, I turn, lowering her carefully onto the bed. Jordyn doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t stir. She just looks up at me, dazed and defeated. Those tired, tear-rimmed blue eyes are too big for her face, all innocence and devastation rolled into one.

And fuck, it cuts me deep.

I crouch down beside the bed, brushing the hair away from her face with a gentleness I didn’t know I still possessed.

A gentleness that seems to be preserved exclusively for her.

“Let’s get you warm so you can rest, Bambina,” I murmur, not trusting my voice any more than I trust the rage prickling just beneath my skin.

She makes a small sound of protest when I pull away.

A tiny, broken whimper that cracks something open inside me and when Jordyn’s fingers catch the ends of mine, I go still, frozen in place.

“Ares.” My name flows from her lips, soft and worn out, and for a split second, it snuffs out the raging inferno inside me.

I glance down at her, and she peers up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, her pupils still too wide, too glazed.

Whatever counteragent the doctor injected is working, but slowly. ..too damn slow for my liking.

“Yes, Bambina?” I murmur, crouching closer so she doesn't have to strain her voice. She blinks at me, sluggish and vulnerable, her chest rising and falling with shallow, trembling breaths. “You’re always there,” she whispers, the words slurring just enough to stab a blade straight through my chest.

My brows pull together, frowning. What is she talking about?

“That night...” she says, her voice wobbling.

“You told me you might not always be around to catch me the next time I fall...” She pauses, licking her lips, struggling to pull the thoughts together.

“But you’re always there,” she finishes, so softly I almost miss it.

“In my absolute worst moments, you’re always there. ”

I stare at her, every part of me shattering under the weight of that broken truth.

Christ, she’s so beautiful. So fucking innocent, she doesn’t even realise. Doesn't have any idea how much she’s starting to affect me or how much she’s starting to mean to me. And I am so fucking terrified that one day... no matter how hard I fight...I might not be there in time.

I can’t let her see this side of me. The small part that’s soft, that aches to protect her. I have to keep her at arm’s length if I want to keep her safe.

My world will never be a haven for an innocent soul like you, Bambina. A man like me isn’t made for love or tenderness. I was forged in violence, raised in blood. Born to kill.

And this life? It’s ruthless. Unforgiving. It will chew you up and spit you out without a second thought. If you stay too close to me, it’ll swallow you whole. I have too many enemies waiting in the dark.

Too many fucking monsters who would tear you apart just to get to me. I can’t...I can’t let you fall into this world, Bambina. You deserve better than the ruin stitched into my skin. You deserve love and a man who is untainted. Someone who can love you the way you deserve, openly and loudly.

“Take what you want from my wardrobe and get some rest,” I tell her stonily and pull my hand back from hers. I don’t look back, even when I hear the dejected sigh that escapes her as I walk away.

It’s for her own good.

The first thing I hear when I wake is the sound of her breathing. Breathy. Unsteady, yet steady enough to tell me she’s alive.

I sit up in the chair, every muscle in my back protesting after a night of sleeping half-sitting, half-hovering like some deranged guard dog. My shirt clings to my skin, still damp from last night. I scrub a hand over my beard, the coarse drag of stubble grounding me in the moment.

Jordyn is still curled up on the bed where I left her. Small and fragile.

I had one of the girls change her out of the wet clothes and into one of my oversized t-shirts, which is drowning her frame like armour she doesn't even know she’s wearing.