Page 13 of Broken Princess

After administering various meds, she retreats to study the x-rays and images from the ultrasound. I busy myself tidying up and return to my sentry post on the stool by Aurora’s bed soothed by the steady, even beeps of the monitor and the rise and fall of her breathing. It settles me.

Doc Em looks up at me and asks, “Are you going to assign a specific member of your team to care for her, or will you divide it into shifts?”

“Ideally, I’ll split it across the team. Why? What’s the issue?” I ask. From her pensive expression, I see she’s worried about something.

“I’m debating how much you need to know to care for her when I can’t be here, or I’m in surgery and can’t reply. There are things you have no right to know, but may need to know,” she says, then worries her lip. It’s not like a mob doctor is normally concerned with patient confidentiality, but usually she’s not considering the long-term care of mafia royalty.

“Until we can get hold of Mateo, treat me as her next of kin. I will take responsibility for her medical care. Her fucking husband did this to her and believes her to be dead. As far as I’m concerned, Aurora De Luca is dead.” I look down at her and a thundering cloud of possessiveness sweeps over me, urging me to say, “This is Aurora Bianchi, and she’s our responsibility… until we can locate her father.”

Unease practically radiates off her as she fiddles with the pages of the makeshift chart she’s put together.

“This is bad, Zo,” she says candidly as she shows me her notes, “For right now, she’s stable. We were lucky with the stab wound; it just missed the spleen. However, she has extensive bruising across her abdomen, and there was minor bleeding from blunt force trauma to her liver. From the ultrasound and observations, it appears to be resolving itself and shouldn’t require surgery. She will need extensive bed rest, painkillers, and antibiotics. I’ll leave you a detailed schedule for meds.”

“Okay, sounds pretty straightforward. What’s got you nervous?” I ask.

“The biggest problem is her mental state. We can’t have her freaking out like that again. Now that we know she can wake up, we’re going to need to medicate her. The abdomen is the most pressing concern, but she also has dozens of bruises, stitches, and a few serious fractures—some I’ll need to splint. When I say bed rest, she needs to be immobile and calm. I need to keep a handle on her blood pressure.”

“What about her other injuries?”

“Fractures to the right eye socket, left wrist, right ankle, and her collarbone. She’s got two broken ribs, and a dislocated knee-cap. They’ll heal, but Enzo,” she takes a steadying breath and looks down at her notes, “from what I saw on the x-rays. This is nothing compared to the historic injuries. There wasn’t a bone I scanned that didn’t show remodelling.”

“Fuck, I’m going to kill him,” I grind out, balling my fists finding it hard to temper my reactions. Doc Em doesn’t react, but from the way she’s fiddling with her sleeve and avoiding my eyes, I know there’s more. “What are you not telling me?”

She blanches before dropping her shoulders in resignation and says, “Whoever did this… raped her.”

My eyes slam closed as my anger bubbles over. I need to scream and rage and hurt something… but not here. Not in front of Katerina. Turning and stomping out of the room, I throw the door wide and storm into Nico’s chamber next door. Slamming the door behind me, I bellow in frustration, up-ending the nearest bench. I send Nico’s favourite weapon display flying and lose track of what I’m holding. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it involves throwing a lot of things.

From the doorway, I hear Sin barking at me, but his words don’t register. Everything is hazy. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I try and fail to regulate my temper.

“Turn around. Look at me right now, Zo.”

I turn and meet his eyes, realising I’m panting like a feral beast. Shoulders rising and falling in exaggerated movements, I feel like my anger is running rampant like a wildfire through my body. I clench my fists as I attempt to get myself back under control.

Sin’s presence affects me like it always does. He dowses the flames, cooling my temper and comforting me in a way I can’t explain but will never question. I focus on my breathing, slowing it down and using his unwavering gaze to centre myself.

“Thank you. Stay out here, give me five minutes,” I say. “No arguments, Sin.”

I return to Doc Em, unfurling my fists as I assume the mask of a man in control. I rub my face and shake off my outburst. “Sorry,” I say, ashamed of my behaviour. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I treated the abrasions from the—” she swallows, her throat bobbing harshly as she tries to get the words out, “rape. So physically, yes, she will be alright. But mentally?” she adds, “Enzo, you and your guys, you’re not trained for this. I don’t know what her mental state will be. I need you to promise me you’ll look after her. That you’ll get her help if she needs it. If you can’t give me your word, I will take her and have her admitted now.”

“You know that can’t happen. The minute you admit her, she’s traceable. Even if we used a fake name, it’s too big a risk. She has to stay here,” I declare, and Doc Em’s brows furrow with worry. “But if we need to, we’ll bring help to her. Hell, I’ll kidnap a shrink if I have to,” I joke, trying to reassure her with a smile.

Her frown doesn’t shift. “You may have to, Enzo.”

She distracts me by taking me through the meds in minute detail. As she finishes, there’s a soft knock on the door before Sinclair appears. While he seems to have dealt with his earlier outburst and is back to his usual calm and considered self, I still feel overwhelmed. I’ll have to ask him how he does that, because the rage I feel every time I look at Aurora’s injuries is all-consuming. I’m so wound up, I can hear my pulse racing, pounding my ear drums.

Sin has a knack for reading people and knowing what they need. I can see all the cogs in his head turning as he senses the tension radiating out of Doc Em, whereas my skill has always been in making the hard choices and following them through.

I’m not an inflexible guy. In any situation, I’ll listen to the available information and assess the issue at hand. I’ll listen to my crew and consider their suggestions. But the burden of responsibility is mine. They place their lives in my hands, and it’s my job to take that trust seriously. Right now, Aurora is in our care, and that makes her my responsibility.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, but we can’t move her.

“Walk me through the plan,” he says, steering Doc Em to the back counter as she repeats the instructions and the medication timings.

I’m drawn back to Aurora. My shoulders drop and I let out a breath and relax back into my perch on the stool again. After a few minutes, Sin is up to speed and Doc Em shows us how to administer the meds into her IV. We’ve botched it before when one of us has needed patching up, but I’d rather know how to do it right. The last thing I want is to do anything that causes Aurora more pain. Doc Em grabs some things from a hefty-looking bag she brought with her. She’s careful as she puts Aurora’s wrist into a reinforced splint and secures the Velcro strap. “Be sure this isn’t too tight,” she instructs Sin, and moves on to the plastic boot for her ankle. “This one needs to be loose enough to allow for circulation, but tight enough that it’s stable when she starts walking on it. Give it a week before she removes it at night.”

Doc Em packs up her things and checks the makeshift patient chart before crossing the room back to me.

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