Page 49 of Fierce Protector

“Why? Because you’re mine, Doctor Mancini. From the very beginning, I’ve known your heart was always meant to be mine,” he croons, flicking his gaze to my draped chest and staring with something that looks likeunhinged obsession. While my chest isn’t fully bare, he’s staring down at me as if it were, when in fact it’s laid out only to expose a five-inch-wide gap between my breasts, from my collarbone to my belly button.

I’m beyond disappointed in myself. Not that he took me. Not that I’m at his mercy. But that in all the years I worked with Doctor Jenkins, I mistook his sociopathy for narcissism, and I never recognised how dangerous he truly was. He’s the type of man I should be able to spot at twenty paces. He’s always been a threat.

How did I not see it? I’m Cosa Nostra, born and bred, for fuck's sake.

“I’ve spent years waiting for you, Doctor Mancini. Waiting for you to grow into a surgeon worthy of my attention; to grow out of your youthful petulance and become a respected colleague. I knew the minute you started your residency here that you were special, that you’d blossom into so much more. And yet, now you’re finally exceptional, you waste yourself on idiots. Do you really think that nurse was worthy of you? Or that wannabe thug in the designer suit?” He pauses, raising his eyebrows questioningly, but any response escapes me. What the fuck am I meant to say to this level of rampant delusion?

Lining the tip of the scalpel with the opening in the surgical draping across my chest, he nicks the skin. I can’t feel it, but when I crane my neck to follow his movements, I see it. A droplet of blood swells under the knife before it chooses its path towards my shoulder.

When I glance up at him, he’s laser-focussed on the incision, crow’s feet appearing at the edges of his eyes asa malicious joy seems to take over him. He leans over, blocking the bright lights and casting a shadow over me, causing him to curse in frustration and reach for the headlamp beside him.

“Tell me, when I open you up, do you think I’ll be able to tell that your heart belongs to me?” Even if he waited for a response, I wouldn’t be able to give him one. The callousness of his words freezing me in terror. “I’ve seen so many hearts on my table, but I’ve always believed that when I find ‘the one’, I’ll know that it’s meant for me.”

His wrists flex and strain, digging the scalpel in a little further and dragging it down between the valley of my breasts, stopping a hands-width above my belly button. I want to scream and rage and fight against my restraints, but I know any movement will only make his incision less precise and could cause more damage than it already is. Though I can’t feel the bite of the blade, it doesn’t make it any less horrifying as the incision pulls further apart.

He lets out a satisfied groan that has me wanting to claw the skin from my bones.

“I can’t wait to watch your heart beat for me, Doctor Mancini. To hold it in my hands and know it’s mine.”

I strangle the scream that wants to tear from my lips, muffling it through clenched teeth.

“Don’t cry, my exquisite little rose. I just need to know…” his voice trails off and he turns towards the instrument tray and lays down the scalpel. “I need to know that I’ve been right all along. That you have been worth the wait.”

In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.

“What are you going to do to me?” My voice is barely a whisper as I’m terrified to hear his response.

“I need to see with my own eyes that your heart is worthy of mine, of course,” he says as he picks up the bone saw.

I scream. Long and loud, until there’s no air left in my lungs. He scrambles to pick up a syringe, stabbing it into the port in the IV. Spots cloud my eyes and darkness creeps in like a vignette around the edges. My vision tunnels as he leans over and fixes his deranged gaze on mine.

“Night, night, Katerina. Sleep tight.” His smile is detached and unhinged, filling me with dread. A shiver chases itself down my neck, only to fade into my anesthetised spine.

Whatever he injected me with overpowers my consciousness, pulling me into darkness. Closing my eyes, I shut out the image of the twisted lunatic above me and summon one of Stefano. I’m safe in his arms, wrapped in his familiar, rich scent. He’s stroking my hair and telling me I’m his and he’s mine.

My last thought as I drift away brings me solace.

No matter what happens to me now, whether I survive or not, Stefano Tiero will keep his promise—he’ll slaughter the man who made me cry.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

STEFANO

Ascream reverberates through the darkened basement corridor, and I break out into a run, Marcus right behind me. The soles of our shoes slap against the linoleum floor as we chase after her cries. They cease as suddenly as they started and my heart lurches in my chest.

The corridor intersects with another and leaves us with a fifty-fifty choice. I hesitate, second guessing myself, trying to pinpoint what direction her screams came from, as without them, I may go the wrong way—waste precious seconds getting to her. My mind chases itself round in circles, not knowing whether the silence means she’s no longer in pain, or worse that she’s dead.

She can’t be dead. I’d feel it. I’d know.

I need to bury the fear that’s threatening to paralyse me because time isn’t a privilege I have right now.

She needs me.

“You go left, I’ll take right,” I bark, pushing his shoulder, spurring him into action.

I pitch forward down the hallway and start hurling open the doors. For every door that clatters open, there’s an echo along the corridor as Marcus matches my frantic pace as we scan each room. Nothing but rooms full of filing cabinets and surplus medical supplies.

As I reach the last door, I hear it. An incessant buzzing, like the sound my reciprocating saw makes. It’s so out of place in this darkened basement that I know immediately that that’s where I need to be.

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