Page 53 of Broken Princess

Shaking off my wandering thoughts, I get back to the search. We both have the case numbers memorised, so we keep searching and checking the medical identification bands on the cadaver ankles.

“Got one,” she shouts after five minutes. There are a surprising number of John Does backing up the Medical Examiner’s freezers right now.

I head over and pull back the sheet fully, wincing at the extent of the injuries. The bloodlessness allows me to take in every jagged edge and deep gouge in the flesh. Whoever this was, died a very violent death. I glance up and see that Aurora is studying the marks they have sent us to photograph. They’re strange—uniform and yet not. In places, the criss-crossing striations alter their pattern and become inconsistent. The markings alter depending on the undulation of the victim’s flesh. We’ve all studied the description and photos of Isabella’s autopsy. These seem very similar, but I’m no expert. I don’t think Sin has shown Aurora her sister’s file yet, though, so she has no frame of reference.

Her head pops up, and she directs me. “You take some photos of these. I’ll find the other body.” She’s turned her back to me and started her search before I can object to her commanding me. I only tolerate orders from Zo, occasionally Sin, and the authoritative tone she takes with me rankles and festers at the base of my neck and sits uneasily in my chest.

This is not one of the ways I desire Aurora. She is a strong woman, and I love that. But I want to be a place where she doesn’t have to be. I want to be where she feels safe enough to give up all control. To me…

Shit, I need to cut those thoughts out right fucking now. I am not what she needs. I’m an asshole.

I take out my cell and start taking pictures of the marks across the body. They wrap around the wrists, the arm and the torso. There’s a flow to them in places where they curve around the ribs, but in others they’re like staccato notes, jabbing at the flesh and leaving uneven and jagged marks.

The heavy thuds of Benny’s boots coming up the corridor have me releasing a calming breath. I’d recognise his gait anywhere. Knowing he’s returning to me always fills me with a tranquillity that’s hard to explain. Every part of him is mine, and nothing in me ever doubts that. When he’s with me, I own every part of him. He is a part of me—part of my soul—and vice versa. Our dynamic is not frivolous, it’s meaningful.

How I bring peace to Benny, I long to do for Aurora. I wish I could. He wishes the same.

Fuck, I have to stop dwelling on this.

Benny barges through the door, completely oblivious to Aurora’s presence, and proceeds to plant a rough kiss on me, despite his lookout duty. His hands gripping the collar of my jacket tightly. Pulling me into him, his lips slip from mine and he nuzzles across the scruff on my jawline, coming to rest at the shell of my ear.

Before I can alert him we’re not alone, he grinds out, “The only thing that I want more than your cock in my mouth right now would be to see your cock in Aurora’s mouth while I ate her pussy.”

A small cough from behind us alerts Benny to her presence. The mortification that burns a trail across his cheeks would be hilarious if he hadn’t made me complicit in his blunder. I don’t think Aurora needed to know that she has become a guest star in our sexual fantasies.

Before Benny can apologise, Aurora cuts him off. “Get over here. I found the other body.” Benny tries to open his mouth again, but she holds up her hand with a firm, “Ah-ah-ah.”

It’s hard not to laugh, as he whines when she shuts him down. His darkened green eyes turn to me, wide and disappointed, seeking some kind of reassurance. I take him by the hand and tilt my head, encouraging him to follow me over to the gurney she’s been hovering at. I squeeze his hand and intertwine my fingers with his, feeling the tension leave him as his arm relaxes beside mine.

“These marks are the same, can you take shots of these too please, Nico.” Her tone is distant and detached. She’s so entranced by the kerf marks on the body that I’m wondering if she heard what Benny said at all.

Without touching the skin, her fingers float across the marks, and I watch as she straightens and rolls up the sleeve of my hoodie. She’s ignoring us as she holds up her arm and makes the same movement with her fingers. I use my phone to take photos of the second victim, but out of the corner of my eye I watch her.

Something’s wrong.

I pass the phone across to Benny and move around to stand beside Aurora. I’m curious to know what has captured her attention—and that’s when it dawns on me.

She’s not comparing the wounds on the bodies to her recent cuts, she’s comparing them to her scars. The faded silver steaks that wind around her forearm and biceps.

I raise my arms and take her by the shoulders, steering her away from the body. She doesn’t stop her survey, so I pull her hand towards me and take over the inspection. This pulls her focus to me as she speaks in a monotonous and disconcerting tone.

“There are many things that can mar the skin permanently.” She lifts her hand and points at a small burn mark. “Cigarettes,” she states. Then her index finger moves to a pink line about two centimetres long and paper thin. “Knives.” Her hand dances over her scars as she continues, “Scalpels, scissors, razors…”

She stops and brushes her fingertips along the matching patterns that band her wrist.

“These though,” her breathing falters before she steadies it and a disembodied voice that doesn’t sound like her explains, “these are barbed wire. These marks happen when you are bound so tightly with it that any movement slices into you. Your only choices are to fight and potentially slice your wrists open, or to remain still.”

I draw in a sharp breath as I let the full weight of what she’s saying wash over me. Restrained with barbed wire, Aurora had to choose between survival and ending her own life… Repeatedly… For four years.

The rage that fills me is uncontrollable and I can’t contain my reaction.

The sound that comes out of my throat causes her to flinch and Benedict rounds the table and stands in front of her. He knows I would never hurt her, but he is also familiar with my temper. “Walk it off now, Nico.”

I can see Benny’s lips moving, but I can’t hear his words. It’s like a haze has descended and it’s fogging my vision and my hearing. I can’t hear the roars that I know are bursting from me, but I can feel them in my chest. The way they burn my trachea and leave an emptiness in the pit of my stomach.

When I get my hands on Max De Luca, I will make him suffer. Every injury he has ever inflicted upon her, I will visit back on him tenfold. I will use the map of her scars as a fucking instruction manual.

When I’m done, I will watch as she snuffs him out of existence. I will not take that joy from her.

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