Page 15 of Broken Princess

This is the most random thing I think I’ve ever done. It’s unexpectedly intimate, but I’m not uncomfortable. I take the time to search her face, observing every microscopic movement, making sure we aren’t causing her pain or discomfort. The flutter of her lashes, the occasional purse of her lips.

“What’s Doc Em got her on? Like, this isn’t hurting her, right?” I check.

“No. We had to give her something after she woke up earlier. She’ll be out for a while.”

“You going to fill me in, then?”

As he continues tending to her hair, he keeps his eyes down but talks. “She’s got a ton of injuries, Benny. In addition to him torturing her for days,” he coughs awkwardly, “it looks like he’s been hurting her for years.”

My eyes flick up to the ceiling and I bite down on my cheek until I taste the tang of copper. “Motherfucker.”

“We have another problem. I can’t get hold of Mateo.”

My eyes dart down to his. “That’s not good, Zo. Even if he’s out of contact, Manny or Stefano should be answering for him.”

“Well, Mateo isn’t picking up and I don’t know whether I should be going to his second or his consiglieri with this. Firstly, the fewer people know, the better we can protect her, and secondly, how the fuck do we know we can trust them? You know them better than any of us. Would you trust them, Benny?”

I stop for a moment and think. “Fuck, boss. I don’t know. If they can’t be trusted, then contacting them with any of this is the quickest way to get her and us killed. Even asking after Mateo will rouse their suspicions.”

“That’s my thinking.” He stops rinsing, replenishes the bowl again with warm water from the corner sink, and reaches for the shampoo. He goes quiet, seemingly getting lost in thought as he lathers and rinses, but he takes care to avoid any injuries. His movements are trance-like as he repeats the process again. I take the opportunity while his focus is on her to analyse him in more detail. His care and reverence for the task takes me aback. I’ve never seen him like this.

It’s both unfamiliar and peaceful. The way he gently combs through the conditioner, strokes it down the lengths with a feather-light touch. It’s an act of care I would never have expected from our closed-off and emotionally barren leader.

The silence stretches out as we both consider our situation. Working on together, we carefully move her back down the gurney and I take the bowls and jug to the sink while Enzo resumes his perch at her side and towels off her wet hair.

Enzo starts rambling, working through his theories. “What if there’s a rat in the Bianchi family? Did Max do this alone, or was he under orders? Is Salvatore involved? What if the De Lucas have Mateo? What if Mateo is a target? What if Mateo is already dead?”

My head snaps up again, and the ball drops, realising what he’s spoon feeding me. “You don’t think…? The other body?”

He looks me dead in the eye and speaks solemnly, “I really fucking hope not. Right now, our biggest problem is a Syndicate underboss who’s attempted to kill a don’s daughter. If he’s killed Mateo…” he shakes his head and scrapes a hand over his scruff, “it’s definitely a coup. And we’re fucked six ways from Sunday.”

I’m shocked. We can’t be that fucked… can we? I mean, there’s fucked, and then there’s fucked.

I wander out and head back up to my room to search for the only thing that will soothe me. Opening the door, I find him. Still a mess of limbs and dead to the world. I crawl into bed and encourage a sleeping Nico to entangle me.

An unsettling sense of dread settles in the centre of my chest and I can feel it spread throughout my bones.

We. Are. Fucked.

CHAPTER NINE

AURORA

I’m drifting again. But this time, there are no memories clawing at me. No thoughts wandering through my consciousness. No sense of inevitability that more pain is coming.

There’s… nothing.

And it’s glorious.

I stand corrected—there was nothing. The annoying beeping is back, and it’s still brighter than the sun behind my eyelids. I try to crack open my eyes and this time I’m not feeling scared. My vision is blurring and only one eye opened, but it’s staring straight up at two blurry pools of midnight blue—dark and hypnotic. They momentarily distract me from the brightness, but I shut my eyelid quickly to stop the harsh light bombarding my senses.

“Enzo.” I breathe out his name like it’s a prayer. Zo can’t be here. I’ve lost my mind. Max finally broke me.

“I’m here, guerrierotta.”

I feel like I’m losing it. There’s no reality in this life or the next where Enzo Moretti is here, let alone calling me little warrior.

I try to sit up and am met with more loud beeping, an alarm of some sort, and pain… everywhere. “Holy shit, that hurts,” I cry out. “Got me good this time, you fucker,” I mutter under my breath.

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