Page 18 of Broken Princess

Shit, I went off track and now I’ve got feelings creeping into my consciousness. Rein it in, Rory.

“Where were you before he took you?”

“Took me?” I’m confused for a minute. “You’re not understanding, Enzo. I wasn’t in the warehouse for eight days; he locked me up in our basement eight days ago. I guess it’s essentially a torture chamber. Don’t know how else to describe it. I imagine it’s a lot like the room you have set up for Nico, if I had to guess.”

His forearm strains and I hear a small grunt moments before the mug shatters and coffee cascades over him. Enzo runs to the sink to deal with the scalds. It shouldn’t be funny. Here’s me revealing details that are obviously upsetting him and yet, it’s hilarious watching him try to appear manly while also hopping up and down, fanning his crotch. You’ve got to laugh or you’ll cry, right?

“Ow, ow, ow,” he cries out before rushing to undo his belt and shove his jeans down. I’m met with a vision of one gorgeously tight ass. Note to self: Zo goes commando. I strain my neck, trying to get a better view and get busted eyeing him up as he looks back over his shoulder. He gives me a disapproving eyebrow lift. A man’s chastising eyebrow should not be that enticing.

Yummy.

Shaking my head, I look at anything and everything else I can as he says, “I’ll be right back.”

As the minutes stretch out, I reach out to pull the cart thingy over. There’s a pen and some paper on a clipboard. My medical chart, it would appear. I flip through the pages and my breath becomes shaky as I read. I don’t feel any worse than any other time I’ve made it through. But that doesn’t reassure me like it usually does as I read the near endless list of injuries. Several catch my eye. Broken ribs, a few fractures, and then I stop at the stark words written in typical doctor’s scrawl. Barely legible, but I know what it says.

I propel the chart across the room, wanting it as far away from me as possible. It flies toward the door and ricochets back into the wall, deflected by Enzo’s return. He’s found a pair of sweats that look far too good on him, and don’t stop me remembering his trunk like thighs beneath the soft drape of the fabric.

He grabs the clipboard and glances down at the doctor’s notes and asks, “Did you read this?” He goes to say something else and stops himself.

“Spit it out and stop pussy footing around me,” I bark. Exhaling half in confusion, half frustration. I study him, and say, “Sorry, I know I’m all over the place but…but this is a lot, alright?”

His expression darkens, and I feel like an asshole. I’m doubling down on saying all the wrong shit right now.

“Don’t fucking apologise,” he grinds out, and then softens his tone. “I mean, I could do without you laughing your ass off at my expense, but don’t apologise to me for anything. You understand?”

Relief floods me, and I relax again. “Got it.” I hate the thought of disappointing him. He’s done nothing but help me. Enzo shouldn’t have to be here, babysitting a broken freak.

“But you don’t get it, do you?” he says, continuing his study of me. “Whatever you need, it’s yours. However you act, it’s fine. You’ve been through seven levels of hell and you’re able to smile, for fuck’s sake. You’re doing pretty good if you ask me. But if you’re not… that’s okay too. You wanna scream? Scream. You want to talk? Great. You wanna hit something? I’ll bring Nico down here. Crazy fucker would probably enjoy it.”

I chuckle, “We’re good for now, but thanks, Enzo.” I hesitate and cast my eyes down before continuing. “I read Doc Em’s notes. I’ve not seen everything written out like that before… catalogued. You’ve read it.” It’s not a question. I can see he has by the look in his eyes.

I can see him considering his words with care. “Everything written in your notes I have discussed with Doc Em.”

“Fuck,” I choke out as breathing becomes more and more difficult. He approaches me with caution, like you would a wild animal.

“None of the team knows the full details of what’s written there. Sin knows some things because he cleaned and dressed your wounds. But Nico and Benny weren’t here. They only know as much as they observed when we found you.”

That helps. My heart slowly calms and the pounding returns to a dull thud.

“So, only you know…”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” is all I can say. I can’t bring myself to look at him. This man, my rescuer, my protector, my saviour, knows everything.

“Aurora, I know this is difficult. But I need to know about before the warehouse. Anything you can tell us about when he was with you, when he went away, and how long he was gone for?”

The change of subject is a relief for me, and I wonder if that’s the point before I take a steadying breath and walk him through it.

“It started on a Thursday night. He came home late, took me downstairs and left when he got tired. Friday, he let me be until the evening and then it was the weekend, so he was there all day, and I didn’t hear him leave the house. After that he would fit me in around Syndicate business. He’d leave around eight thirty in the morning, return for an hour or so at lunch, and then be back after dinner. It was Wednesday, I think—I passed out after eating the lunch he brought me and woke up in the warehouse.”

I can hear Zo muttering under his breath and when I look up at him, he apologises and instead starts grinding his teeth. I’m transfixed by the muscle in his jaw that’s straining to contain his emotions. He types out everything on his phone as I speak. “I’m sending a summary to Sin,” he explains. I nod and continue.

“When I came round, it was dark. I don’t know what time it was. I fell asleep again as the sun was rising, but I don’t think it was for that long—Max woke me up shouting at someone on the phone. The sun was high, so I guess that was Thursday lunchtime, maybe?”

“What was he shouting about?” Zo asks.

“It was muffled because he was in his car in the loading bay, on speaker phone. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was loud. And when he got out of the car, he slammed the door and shouted about ‘incompetent fucking Bianchis’.” More nodding and typing from Zo.

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