Page 26 of Broken Princess

Nico fell asleep before the end. He’s lying in what looks like the most uncomfortable position known to man. Half on the couch with his long legs slung over the low table. He’s the largest of them, and by rights he should scare the shit out of me. But there isn’t a single one of Enzo’s crew that I fear.

I’ve been sitting with only the residual glow of the TV screen illuminating the room, thinking about my current situation.

I’m safe. For the first time in so long, I’m safe. I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m used to a life of isolation. The more time I spent on my own, the easier it became to prepare myself for what Max threw at me. I built up walls. I like my walls, but it’s hard to keep them up when you’re being bombarded with care and attention.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and no matter how hard I try to retreat into myself, I can’t. What’s the point of developing an unhealthy coping mechanism if it abandons you when you fucking need it?

Images of Max invade my thoughts, taking over and reminding me that as long as he draws breath, I’ll never be free of him. I’m still his wife, and if he finds out I’m alive, if he discovers that Enzo is hiding me from him, we’re all dead.

The room is spinning. That can’t be good. Fuck, I need to get out of here.

I mute the snitch that is the monitor and start picking off the wires I’m hooked up to. Nico freed me from the IV bags earlier, so I only have the boot slowing me down. Inching my legs over the side of my bed and using my good foot to take my weight, I start hopping over to the door. Only my hops become more like a limp shuffle as the movements jostle my other injuries, forcing me to suppress a whimper.

Nico may be a fantastic nurse, but he’s a terrible guard dog. It’s pretty difficult for a patient with all the grace of a drunk elephant to be silent, but I make it to the door without waking him up. I open it and continue my shuffle-hop down the hall to the bathroom. I just need to be on my own. Somewhere entirely less people-y.

Is this what a panic attack feels like? My chest feels tight, and the corridor appears blurry. I think I’m going to throw up. From behind me, strong hands wrap around my upper arms and squeeze softly, turning me with the utmost care. “Where are we going, Aurora?”

Calm washes over me and can finally take a breath. “I need to be somewhere smaller, darker. I need everything to be a little less… everything.”

“I got you,” Sin whispers, sweeping me up into his arms as gently as he can. After learning my lesson earlier, I quickly brace my back to keep my ribs as open as possible while he carries me. Thankfully, the drugs I took earlier are kicking in, so that helps. He walks us in the opposite direction; up the stairs. Taking in the ground floor, I notice it’s entirely too bright, so I burrow my face into his shoulder and close my eyes.

He nudges a door open with his hip and delicately sets me on a chair. We’re in a small dark windowless room full of computers emitting varying frequencies of whirring noises as the hard-drives process whatever Sin is currently working on. He leans over, switching off all the monitors to eliminate the light.

“You have twenty minutes,” he says, then leaves.

I whisper a thank you as he shuts the door and darkness envelops me. It’s soothing and reminds me of my safe space. The computers are both loud and quiet. Enough noise to drown out everything that’s swirling around my head, but quiet enough that I’m not overwhelmed. The hum from the machines vibrates around me, calming me to my core. No wonder Sin likes it in here.

I close my eyes. I sit. I breathe. It’s bliss.

By the time Sin returns, everything feels better. I’m not entirely sure what that was. It’s been years since my personal limbo has failed me. And if I’m being honest, I don’t understand what freaked me out.

“Don’t overthink it. Time to sleep,” is all he says, and it soothes me. A part of me yearns for more of Sin’s attentiveness. I feel protected—almost nurtured. He took charge of me when I couldn’t, but at no point did I feel like I had no control. This is a surprising and disconcerting feeling.

And Nico… we had fun today. He made me feel normal for the first time in years. But it was a lot for me. I haven’t spent so much time with anyone other than Max for what feels like an eternity.

Sin carefully picks me up again, returning me to my room, and I see that Nico has gone. I feel like some kind of precious cargo. I’m tucked back up into my bed and unfortunately, reattached to the monitor, but Sin mutes it. He grabs the stool and pushes it out the door and turns. “I’ll be right outside, Aurora.”

Dimming the lights first, he then closes the door, and it’s perfect. I can sleep.

And I do.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ENZO

Ijostle Sin’s shoulder to rouse him. “How come you’re out here?”

“She needed to be alone. She had a panic attack. I calmed her down, but she just needed some space. I’ve been checking in on her every hour, though, Zo.”

His words ease my concern. I know if anyone can help her, it’s Sin. He has a knack with people. I feel bad, but one of his most vital roles in my team is anticipating the needs of everyone. The turnaround we saw in Nico was predominantly down to him. Without Sin’s endless patience, I think minor quarrels would end up in fist fights far more often than they do.

In my defence, that one time I punched a member of my team, I was justified. Benny took my last beer from the fridge.

“Go check where we are on the searches you have running. We need a meeting to review what you’ve got.”

“Give me two hours. I still have a tap and trace that’s causing me issues.”

I nod and dismiss him as I push the door open. Aurora is awake and staring at her hands, picking her nails, looking like she’s lost in deep thought.

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