Page 55 of Rotten Men

I drive like a mad man on a mission, with a hysterical Selene at my side.

“We’re almost there, baby.” I try and soothe her with one hand on the steering wheel and another holding her trembling body close to mine.

When we finally get to Vincent’s cabin, I’m relieved to see Gio’s Porsche is already in the driveway. I get out of the car and run to help Selene on the other side. She’s shaking all over, hardly able to take a step, and it’s tearing me apart. I put my arm under her knees, and she immediately wraps her arms around my neck, her tears never once waning though.

“Jesus, you’re killing me, Red,” I mumble under my breath as I run to Vincent’s door and bang on it hard enough its hinges almost break loose.

“The fuck, Dom!” I hear Gio howl on the other side, but the minute he opens the door and sees a broken Selene in my arms, his own panic rises.

“Principessa?Bella? What’s wrong?Bella, talk to me!” he begs, panicking, his hands desperately searching her body for whatever wound is ailing her.

There is blood on her shirt and jeans, and when she arrived this morning at the club, I too thought she was shot. After inspecting every part of her, I realized the blood wasn’t hers, but she hasn’t been coherent enough to tell me whose it is.

“Gio, get Lourdes to go out and buy her some clothes. I need to get her out of this filth,” I groan, making my way upstairs to Vincent’s room, taking two steps at a time. “And where the hell is Vincent?!” I yell, entering his ensuite, still cradling my love in my arms.

“We have to save him, Dom. We have to,” she pleads, her grip on me is so ferocious that I feel her nails break into my skin.

“Who, Red? What happened to you, baby?” I implore.

“He took him. He took him away from me. He took him,” she cries again, the same sentence she’s been repeating for the past hour.

“Shh. It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’m here,” I tell her, as I turn on the shower faucet, and start to take the blood-tainted clothes off my girl. She slaps my hands away and falls to her knees on the cold, white-tiled floor.

“You wanted me on my knees, Dominic? Well, here I am. Please help him,” she hiccups against my chest.

“You should never beg for anything, Red. Not one goddamn thing,” I proclaim. “I never saw you as aprincipessa. You were always a queen to me. And queens do not bow,” I confess, while I take her hands in mine and usher her to her feet. I then place my hand on the nape of her neck and touch my temple with hers.

“Please,” she sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Hang on to me,” I choke out. I lift her off once more and sit her down next to the sink. “Hold tight,” I instruct, placing her fierce grip on the edge of the marble counter.

She doesn’t fight me, which I’m glad for, but her tears and hiccupped sobs don’t lessen either. With her panicked state, it’s a miracle she didn’t have an accident driving the eight hours from Nashville to Chicago. Pure adrenaline must have pushed her through, but now that she’s reached her destination, shock has taken over her every thought.

Once I’ve made sure the water is warm enough, I take off my own clothes and carry her beneath the rainforest shower, to wash away every inch of blood on her. My stomach drops when I watch the shine in my girl’s green-jeweled eyes being replaced by a vacant stare. After I’ve made sure she’s no longer trembling and she’s clean of whatever nightmare she’s endured, I switch off the water and pick her up once more before opening the opaque glass door.

Gio stands with a towel in his hands and wraps her up, unnerved with the same blank gaze in her eyes. He looks at me for answers, but unfortunately, I have none to give him.

“Where’s Vincent?” I growl beneath my breath.

“I’m here,” my best friend hushes from under the threshold of the bathroom door, true fear embedded in his eyes. He bridges the gap between him and our girl and lovingly caresses her cheeks with his hands.

“Vita mia?” he whispers in pain, witnessing how broken our love is in my arms.

“He took him,” she hushes so low it’s hard to understand her words. “He took him, Vincent. Our boy. He took him.”

The rush of blood rings in my ears, and before my very eyes, I watch my two pain-strickencommilitonisuddenly transform into avenging apocalyptic men, seething to rain hellfire down on the world and torch it all to ash.

I push past them, knowing they are in no frame of mind to console my girl when she is this fragile. Vincent and the arctic ice in his veins, combined with Gio’s hot temper, is not what Red needs right now. I stare them down, warning them that this is not about their sense of justice, but Selene’s well-fucking-being. I place her on Vincent’s bed, covering her up with his black duvet, and settle behind her, keeping her wrapped tightly in my arms.

“Leave,” I order them, and Vincent takes two menacing steps toward us.

“I can’t do that, Dom,” he deadpans.

“I’m not asking you, Vince. I’m telling you. Red is in shock. She’s of no use to you right now. Leave and let her rest.”

Vincent grinds his teeth but doesn’t move a muscle. Gio places his hand on his shoulder breaking our staring match.

“We’ll be downstairs,” Gio says, walking toward our girl and placing a gentle kiss on her temple. “We’re all here,bella. You’re safe. Rest,” he murmurs in her ear and falls back to leave the room as I demanded. “Vince?” he insists while standing within the doorframe.

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