Page 4 of Bound By Ruin

“Shh,” I coo, running my hand over his hair. “Don’t speak. Just breathe.” Curving my back, I brush my lips over his forehead and press a kiss to his heated skin. “I won’t ever let him hurt you again,” I vow, my determination setting into place once he grips the side of my shirt with a trembling fist. “I promise.”

Chapter2

Celia

The Box isa bratva medical facility hidden inside of a warehouse on the west side of the city. Not everyone born into the bratva knows about it, but those who actively contribute to the bratva’s inner workings—gambling rings, protection fee collection, gun running—always have a reason to pay the sitting medic a visit. Although I’ve heard stories from my brother, I’ve never been there before now.

I never imagined I’d have a reason to pay The Box a visit.

Then again, I’ve never had three mafia boyfriends before.

A medical team rushes to meet us with a gurney the moment we pull up to the curb. As the boys help their brother out of Rage’s SUV, I continue holding Ruin’s hand, determined not to let go. He squeezes my fingers like a lifeline, his eyes searching for mine every second we’re in transport.

One of the medics tries to brush past me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re going to have to let go.”

My heart hammers loudly in my ears. “I’m only letting go if he does.” I loosen my grip, but Ruin’s remains strong, pulling me even closer. The entire team rushes through an open dock door and I have to jog to keep up. Despite the building’s exterior, the inside is pristine. Concrete floors are professionally treated and spotlessly cleaned, with a straight path leading through rows of partitions separating the cavernous room into smaller pods. Each pod is filled with bright overhead lighting running across the tops of the partitions and with rolling medical equipment and carts. The team ignores all of them and rolls Ruin to one of the larger pods in the back, where a doctor in a surgical gown awaits. Despite the paper mask covering his face and the cap tied around his head, I recognize him immediately.

“Dr. Sakovia.” I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God he’s already here. Alongside him is a team of five dressed similarly to him, including the sterile gloves on their hands.

“Put him on the table,” Wren instructs. My hand slips free from his while they transfer him, and I’m unable to maneuver back by his side once they start taking his vitals and hooking him up to machines. They peer inside his throat, slip two IVs into his forearms, and begin triage and treatment.

Gently, Rage touches my lower back once the medics begin debriding the burnt flesh from Ruin’s body. “You won’t want to see this,” he murmurs, tugging on my arm. “C’mon, let’s get some air.”

“I’m staying.”

Ruin’s eyes finally close as the adrenaline fades and whatever drugs they’ve given him kick in.

Rage and I stare at Ruin together. “He’s in good hands,” he murmurs, squeezing my hip. Then he coughs, a wet sound that sends icy panic down my spine.

“Serena, see that both Rebel and Rage are treated for smoke inhalation and other injuries,” Dr. Sakovia interrupts, glancing up at us. “You may stay, Miss Monrovia, if you do not interfere. There’s a chair over there.” He nods toward a metal folding chair sitting against one of the partitions. “But the moment you do, you will be escorted out of the building.”

“I’ll be fine.” I touch Rage’s cheek to reassure him. “Go get checked out.”

One of the medics, who I assume is Serena, leads Rage out of the room and across the hall where Rebel is already being assessed. He’s sitting on a patient cot, staring into the distance with a blank expression. Another shiver wracks my body, and I wrap my arms around my middle. I glance back at Ruin one more time before deciding that Rebel needs some attention, too. Slowly, I cross the short hallway and step into his room.

“Hey,” I breathe, slipping into the space between his thighs. “You okay?” Rubbing my hands up the outside of his thighs, I feel the remnants of debris on the coarse denim and pull my hands back to find black and gray ash dusting my hands.

Rebel’s gaze focuses, landing on my hands instead of my face. His lips pinch into a frown while he tries to brush them off, and then he sighs and pulls them around his neck. Leaning into my body, he exhales into the curve of my neck and wraps his arms around my waist. “Yeah, baby, I’ll be okay.”

“Both of you need to remove your clothes,” Serena instructs. “Miss Monrovia, please sit over there while they change.” She nods towards a matching folding chair to the one in Ruin’s room. After a moment, she adds, “Do you also need treatment?” Her eyes are glued to my wrists, and it takes me a moment to remember that I’d been handcuffed. She’s likely seeing the bruises.

“She stayed outside,” Rebel rumbles, kissing my cheek. “Which I hope she isn’t mad at me for.”

Shaking my head, I tell him, “it seems silly to be mad about that right now.” I step back to allow Rebel to undress, but he snags my fingers and wraps them around the hem of his shirt.

“Help me?”

Carefully, I peel off Rebel’s clothes. There’s nothing sexy about it—but my stomach churns as I catch fresh burns on his neck, back, and shoulders. Some of his hair has been singed off, and the laces on his Converse have melted. Rebel uses scissors to cut them off, and only once they’re in the discard pile do I see that the soles are also melted.

How hot was it inside the building?

Once both men have stripped down, Serena hands them gowns and sets them up with oxygen masks, instructing them not to speak while it’s being administered. Both men ignore the straps for their heads and hold the masks up to their faces, all three of us staring across the hallway to where Ruin is being treated. Eventually, one of the medics closes the curtain and blocks him from view.

Rage grumbles, clearly disliking it.

“He’ll be fine,” Rebel insists, lacing our fingers together. “Wanna sit up here with me, baby?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay.” The last thing I want to do is sit down. Energy pulses through my body, making it hard to stand still. Not only are my men injured, but Sara is still out there. “Maybe we should call the police.”

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