Page 14 of Wounded Wing

“You should make an appointment with your primary physician or gynecologist in a week. Please refrain from sexual activity until you are completely cleared.” Her blonde hair swishes as she shakes her head. “If you need help, don’t hesitate to call me.”

All I can manage is to nod my head slowly, all my fight and the urge to defend my own stupidity leaves me. She makes swift work of removing my IV and offering me clothing that appears to have been from the lost and found. Lexei releases a pained breath, solidifyingthat this conversation is coming to an end. My heart aches, this moment feels too much like losing another person I cared for. As expected as his reaction was, it still hurts.

Choking back my pride, I drop my façade, letting every ounce of shame, pain, and regret bleed through me. I want him to see that I still have a shred of humanity in my charred soul. That I’m still worth being saved.

I want to be saved.

Standing from his chair, he moves in slowly, caging my body with his hardened arms. Sorrow, unlike anything I’ve ever seen from another human, reflects in his eyes.He leans forward, pressing his forehead gently to mine.

Closing my eyes, I fight to keep myself together. His minty breath coasts along my lips as he whispers familiar words, something I’ve heard him say over the years but couldn’t understand.

“Budu zhdat’ tebya, malen’kaya luna.”

Before I can gather the courage to open my eyes, I hear him walk out the door.

Chapter nine

Two weeks, four days,and nine hours is how long it takes for a vag to heal from superficial burns and six dissolvable stitches. Atticus managed to steer clear of me during that time, stating that I was in no shape to show my face in public. Granted, he wasn’t wrong. My eyes are still decorated with ugly green and brown bruises around them. Thankfully, the swelling went down quickly, but it’s no surprise I still look like a wreck.

Sliding the dark, oversized, oval sunglasses from my wild hair, I fix them over my eyes. There’s no doubt in my mind that I look every bitas foolish as I feel in them, but at least they do the job of concealing the markings.

Walking back through the clinic, I scuff my signature boots across the pristine laminate flooring. It’s not like anyone here gives a shit, anyway. Atticus pays them handsomely for their discretion. I rush through the hallway ignoring the staff as they chatter amongst themselves. The entrance to the building appears as I round the corner. I’m a footstep away when a nasally voice stops me.

“Have a great day, Mrs. Lennon!”

I turn my head, glancing over my shoulder to see the overly friendly receptionist waving enthusiastically.

Ignoring the woman, I push the glass door open, stepping outside the clinic. The Louisiana heat engulfs me, hating that we’ve made it to the in-between stage of spring and summer, meaning it’s the start of swamp-ass season. Sweat drips down my chest, making me cringe at the realization I have to walk several blocks in this heat.

Boob sweat is the worst.

I’m grateful that I had enough foresight to wear my sports bra and athletic leggings. I twist my curls in a messy bun as I trek my way to Ladrón's gym. The dilapidated building sits in the industrial area. Not so coincidentally, the warehouse I bought isn’t far from Ladrón’s. You’d never know by its appearance, but Ladrón's gym is known for churning out some of the best success rates in N’awlins. Shaking my hands out, I pull the front door open. A bell chimes around the main entrance where a young teen looks up from the sign-in desk.

“Welcome to Ladrón’s. If you’re a member, please come sign in.” A beautiful smile graces the boy’s face, his dark eyes shining behind thick frames. A hint of an unfamiliar accent ticks in the back of my mind.

As I make my way to the sign-in desk, I give the boy a courteous smile, “Good morning,cher. I’m signing in for the weapons training class this morning.”

His cheeks grow a healthy shade of pink at the use of the endearment. “Th-thanks for c-checking in Miss…” he stutters.

“Mrs. Lennon. Though, I do prefer my friends to call me Mae.”

Recognition seems to light the boy’s eyes. “I know your son, Liam. He-he’s my best friend, well, one of them. We all go to Everest Hill together, ma’am.” Gone is the shy boy and in his place a proud friend instead.

A genuine smile threatens to crack my crafted mask as I offer the young teen my hand.

“Any friend of Liam’s is a friend of mine. What was your name,cher?” I ask as footsteps sound from behind me, alerting Liam’s friend.

A rich, teasing voice tickles my ears, “Isn’t he a bit too young for you?”

The boy coughs on his spit as a laugh slips freely from my lips.

“Marco, my name is Marco. But, my friends call me Ricky.” I quirk my brow as the boy quickly recovers and shakes my hand firmly.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ricky. I hope Liam doesn’t cause you too many problems at school.” I smile, thankful that my kid has someone in his corner.

Goosebumps travel up my spine as the mystery man behind me brushes his hand against my lower back. Ricky’s eyes widen as the man in question approaches the desk.

“No, ma’am, Liam is great. I’m actually a grade above him, but he sticks up for me. Being a Ladrón in a school full of rich kids means they treat me…different.” Ricky’s shoulders sag dejectedly.

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