Page 4 of Broken Princess

Leaning over, I listen for her breath. I press my fingers to her pulse, which is slow but determined, but her breathing is so faint it’s hard to fathom how she’s still alive. I’m no expert, but that doesn’t seem like a normal response to the beating she’s taken. The longer I stare, the more injuries appear—bruises on bruises, burns, slashes, and cuts. And that’s just the exposed skin. I see crimson pools forming under the hoodie. I want to check, but with the knife, any movement is a risk.

This isn’t like the beating the man took. This is hours, if not days, of torture. I swallow audibly at the realisation, choking back bile and unexpected emotion.

We need to get her to Doc Em now, but we’re still thirty minutes out from the safe house. Nearly all the equipment we need is there, and it’s our most concealed and defensible option. We can’t risk taking her back to ours. If Max finds out she’s still alive, and that we’re helping her—we’re all dead. I trust Doc Em to protect Aurora. She’s paid extremely well for her discretion but also because she’s a Bianchi to the core, daughter of a capo, and that makes her our best option right now.

As I pull away to sit back against the side of the van, I see Aurora’s breathing grow laboured. Her lips are moving, but words fail her. She’s trying to speak, but I wouldn’t hear her over the engine even if she found the words.

“Enzo, stop,” I shout, lifting my head to return his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Turn off the engine, now.” I turn back to Aurora. “What is it? What do you need to say?”

Again, her lips move, but she’s too quiet. It hurts to see her like this. My chest aches and I reach to stroke her hair but realise there’s no where I can touch her that won’t cause her pain.

“You’re not in good enough shape for us to be stopping like this. We need to get you to a doctor, Aurora. Last chance before we get moving. What do you need to say?”

I see her take what must be the most agonising breath in history. The knife rises and she winces, and with great effort she forces out, “Dad…” before losing consciousness.

“What did she say?” demands Enzo. “Tell me now, Sin.”

Enzo’s hands are gripping the wheel so hard I can hear the leather creaking in protest. He’s staring out the windscreen like he’s slipped into a trance, his implacable glare boring into the void.

“Nothing useful. We don’t have time for this right now. We have to get her to Doc Em. I shouldn't have asked you to stop. Start the car, and just get us to the safe house.” I say as forcefully as I can. It’s not often that I challenge Enzo’s authority or order him around, but he’s so close to breaking point right now, I know he needs someone to snap him out of it.

I’ve known Enzo for close to two decades. I’ve been on one crew or another with him since I was eighteen. He’s my oldest and closest friend, and because of that, I know that seeing another Bianchi daughter die will destroy him. When Aurora’s sister Isabella went missing, they brought in everyone working for Bianchi to search for her. When we failed and found her body, it destroyed Mateo. It affected us all deeply.

But there’s no denying it hit Enzo hardest since he was the one to tell Mateo. His brother couldn’t face it, so as he always does, Enzo stepped up and delivered the devastating news for him.

The police investigation had been a joke. Given who her family was they didn’t dedicate enough resources to it and when they ran out of leads it became a cold-case. The evidence didn’t suggest it was mob related, but they didn’t care. She was just another whore found dead in an alleyway behind a dumpster. Mateo has had various crews—including us—investigating it ever since.

Enzo’s eyes flick from the road to mine in the rearview and he nods, snapping himself out of it, starting the engine and pulling away carefully. Aurora is still out cold, and I hope to God that’s not a bad sign. She’s not showing any outward signs of further deterioration, but that means nothing. I’m not a fucking doctor and she looks half dead to me. It’s eerie, almost unnatural. I’ve never seen anyone with injuries this severe maintain a consistent pulse. It’s slow, but it’s there.

Twenty-five minutes later, we’re pulling off the deserted road down a driveway with an entrance barely visible from the road. If you didn’t know it was there, it wouldn’t exist. Doc Em’s car is already here, but she’s left the garage doors clear for us. Enzo flips the visor and grabs the remote, opening it up for us to pull in. We stop a moment later, and Doc Em pulls open the back doors of the van. She takes one look at Aurora and her eyes go wide.

“What the fuck is this? We should be in hospital, Sinclair. She needs more than sutures and tape. She needs a CT,” she shouts, waving her arms like a coach berating his players from the sidelines.

“Can’t. Too dangerous. If anyone finds out she’s not dead, we’re all dead.”

“She’s nearly dead already, you prick. Well, fuck you very much, Sin. What in the name of hell have you got me involved with?”

Enzo appears, closing the garage door and returning to help us lift out the pallet. There’s no way to get it into the house, so we’re going to have to lift her ourselves.

When we bend to pick her up, Doc Em raises her voice with a sharp tone, stopping us in our tracks. “Stop! Are you guys out of your mind? Go into the house now and find something we can use to transfer her. Narrow enough to fit through doors and sturdy enough to hold her flat.” She stands, pointing at the door, giving us our orders. As we turn to leave, she calls after us. “Is there an ironing board in the house?”

Running into the house, I crash through the utility room door, grabbing the ironing board and wrestling it out to the garage. Doc Em rolls Aurora on her side as carefully as possible and we slide the ironing board into place, then roll her gently on her back. Together we lift, carrying her through the house and down into the basement med-room. Located next to Nico’s soundproofed interrogation room—for convenience.

Doc Em takes over the room, directing us to ease her down on the exam table before removing the board. She heads to the back wall and begins pulling out equipment and drugs from our stocks. Passing the fluids, she pushes the crash cart back to the bed, finding everything she needs. We keep this room well stocked, but in all honesty, I think we’ve only used it for stitching ourselves back up. And Nico sometimes borrows the defibrillator when someone he’s interrogating tries to ‘check out’ early.

Enzo’s phone goes off and he steps out of the room to answer it. Doc Em is placing electrodes, hooking up the wires to the monitor she’s retrieved, taking Aurora’s vitals when Enzo calls me out of the room.

“I’ve got to get back to the warehouse. Benny, Nico and our mystery guest are ready for pickup. We need to be clear of the site ASAP to avoid rousing Max’s suspicion. Find out from Doc Em if there’s anything else she needs and keep me posted on her condition.” He pauses and drops his eyes before returning my gaze again. “How the fuck is she still alive, Sin?”

“I don’t know, but we have to be prepared, Enzo. I’ll let you know as soon as Doc Em has anything.”

“What did she say in the van?”

“She said ‘dad’ then passed out.” I take a deep breath and add. “You need to tell Mateo, boss.”

“I know,” he says, leaning into me and letting out a shaky breath. He pats me on the back, turns and leaves. Surveying my clothes, I realise Aurora’s blood has saturated my shirt and pants. Dashing upstairs to my room, I strip down and take the quickest shower known to man before redressing in sweats and a tee. Returning downstairs, I knock before I step back inside, unwilling to wait.

“Fuck’s sake, Sinclair, did you hear me say ‘come in’,” Doc Em shouts before getting lost in thought, staring down at her patient, brows drawn in a pained expression. She looks haunted but shakes her head, like she’s trying to snap herself out of her sorrow, she moves on and leans in closer to inspect the swollen eye. As I approach, she turns and asks, “Who is this, Sin?”

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