Page 111 of Brutal Obsession

I blink. Blink again. Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Or is he really here?

Did Cian rescue me and bring me to this place?

A sob chokes me, spurring him to race to my side. “Harper? Are you in pain? What’s wrong?”

With growing wonder, my gaze traces his familiar features.

It’s really him.

I never thought I’d see Cian’s ridiculously beautiful face ever again, yet here he is.

Sniffling loudly, I reacquaint myself with the welcome sight of him.

Green eyes. That straight, handsome nose. A lush mouth I could kiss for the rest of my days. His skin is clean, but ash, dirt, and other bits of nature cake his hair.

Eager to sink my fingers into those dark curls, I lift my hand, but the strain that small motion puts on my torso causes me to wince and drop it.

Cian catches the reaction, and his own hands curl into fists.

Neither of us speak. We just stare at each other, absorbing the strangeness and comfort of the moment.

Finally, his throat bobs, and a glossy sheen coats his eyes. “Are you all right?”

The softness of his voice ghosts over me like a gentle breeze.

“I think so. Are you?” I croak.

His jaw clenches, irritation flicking across his face at lightning speed. “There you go again, worrying about other people when you should be focused on yourself, given the state you’re in.”

Confusion fogs my brain.

The state I’m in…

Trauma of the past twenty-four hours hits me like a meteor crashing into a planet.

Cian knows. He knows that my body’s been…

The thought dissolves half formed in my mind, too terrible to finish. A sob tears through me. Then another. And another. Each one rips at my chest, spearing my aching side.

But I can’t stop crying. I can’t.

Cian hurries into what must be the bathroom—though from here, it resembles an art exhibit—and returns wielding a cloth rag.

“You’re going to reopen your wound.” Cian dabs my cheeks, trying to dry my face even as the tears keep pouring.

I can’t breathe.

My world is on fire in the worst way.

Everything goes up in flames. My hopes. My desires. My shot at a new life. Even this thing with Cian is over.

Enzo cut me open and stole a piece of my body.

Sure, the part he pilfered was just a piece of my rib, but I’m as disgusted and horrified as if he stole one of my arms or legs. I feel violated, like my body no longer belongs to me. Like a rag doll with part of the stuffing ripped.

Deflated. Empty.

The place where he cut me might heal, but my mind won’t. For all I know, he did other things to me, too, all while I dozed in a chemical slumber. The surgery means that at the very least, he saw part of me naked.

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