Page 35 of Psychological War

Without her even having to speak I got up off Remo. I barely had a chance to move before she pokes him with it saying, “Ti ricordi di me?” Her voice was so low.

Remo shook his head. Pulling her hair back she showed him her neck, the scar that I saw before. His eyes widened, fearful. Tears seemed to appear in them. Fuck he was actually crying. I had no idea what Salem was to him, but I could see the fear finally seeping into his eyes.

“Dì il mio cazzo di nome,” she whispered.

Shaking his head, the tears fell down his face. The smell of urine hit my nose.

“Dillo.”

“S-s-Salem,” his voice cracked. “Salem Gray.” As her last name fell from his lips, she swung the cleaver down into his throat. His eyes widened, and blood squirted everywhere. But she kept hacking until his head had fallen from his shoulders.

Dropping the cleaver she fell to the ground. The tiniest whimper echoed around us, dropping down to her. I pulled her face in my hands. I held her face close, blood covering it, and if I hadn’t somehow fallen in love with her before, I sure as shit just did. Tears fell from her face. It caused me pain to see her like this. “I won’t let anything happen to you again,” I vowed. Why I had said that, I have no idea. But it was the truth, I wouldn’t let anything happen to her again. I had no idea what those men did to deserve to die, but after witnessing Orlando and the need in her eyes to end him, then with Remo, I saw the hurt, the anger, and everything she was trying to hide.

Without giving it a second thought I scooped Salem up, carrying her down the street to my truck. I placed her in the front seat and grabbed my phone from my pocket.

Me: I’m sending you an address. I need a cleanup crew ASAP, and I need someone to come pack a bag of clothes.

Sending that off to Taylor, I scrolled down to Killian. As much as I didn’t want to talk to him or bring any of them into whatever shitshow was raining down on Salem I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“You never call me.” Killian laughed while answering the phone.

“I know. Listen, I just texted Taylor for a cleanup crew. But I need you to get Dimitri and tell him we need to talk. I’m heading back to the house, and I’ll be there in about thirty, but I need to take care of something when I get there.” I kept it vague.

It was silent for a moment. “Alright, so meeting around what, ten?” he asked.

Glancing down at the time, I said, “Yeah.”

“Does this have anything to do with you being at the same place Orlando died, and currently at the same place Remo is?” he inquired. I should have known he would know where I was and who I was with, or at least somewhat.

I grunted, not giving him an answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Listen, I’ll explain everything at the meeting. I’ve got to go,” I mumbled hanging up before he could say anything else. Climbing into my truck, I peeled away.

The moment we got to the house Salem was snoring quietly in the seat beside me. I almost let her just sleep. But I knew a shower and a bed would do much better for her. Going around, I opened the passenger door and picked her up again. She didn’t wake up at all. Not when I walked into the house, not when I got to my room, and not when I got into the bathroom.

Salem was so small I easily held her in one arm, her back side on my knee while I flipped the switch on. Walking over to the shower with her still in my arms, I maneuvered her body, so it was resting more against my chest and my left arm. Turning the shower on, I turned and set her on the counter while the water got hot.

“Kitten,” I mumbled. Her head pressed against my chest, and I rubbed her back. “Come on, I gotta get you cleaned up.”

Slowly her eyes opened, peeling her head away from me as she looked around the bathroom, clearly lost on what was happening.

“Come on, arms up,” I whispered.

With the little strength she had, she did as I asked. Pulling off her shirt, I unbuttoned her pants and carefully picked her up. Unclasping her bra, I waited for the protest, but she never gave me any. Her bra fell with the rest of her clothes. Picking her up again I got rid of underwear, boots, and socks.

Salem kept her head down, as though she was ashamed of her body. It was so different from the original person she always presented herself as. Here she looked broken, scared, and unsure of herself.

Shredding myself of my own clothes, I picked her up, her legs wrapped around my waist. Carrying her into the shower, she hissed.

“Is the water okay?” I asked, cringing to myself for the fact I never cared about another fucking person in my life, yet here I was asking if the fucking water was okay.

She gave a little nod before pulling her face back from my neck. The water poured down her face, rinsing away the blood. Black make-up streaked down her face.

“I need you to stand kitten, think you can handle that?” Again she nodded.

Placing her down I grabbed my loofah, poured my body wash, and slowly began washing all the blood off her. Salem stood there, her eyes closed as I dragged the loofah across her chest. I took in the scar across her neck, a pale white line showcasing pain she took but survived. Going down her arms there were tiny cuts all over them. Going around I washed her back. Worse scars covered her entire back. Kneeling down I could feel the anger radiating off my body, pleading to be let loose. She had a long scar from the middle of her thigh to the middle of her calf on the inner part of her right leg.

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