“I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me.”
I plunge the needle into her arm, compressing the plunger so all the medicine is deposited into her bloodstream. Her eyes widen, a look of shock and betrayal crossing her features before the sedative quickly takes hold and her arms drop, thudding against the mattress.
I see more tears pool in the corners of her eyes as she realizes what I have just done and then her lids shutter closed, and her body goes slack. Those tears continue to slip from her eyes, haunting me.
“FUCK!” I roar, climbing away from her and launching the needle across the room. “FUCK!”
There’s a sudden whirl of activity as Ryker and several men storm into the room and I snap. A different type of fury fills me, this is primal, this is an explosion of protective rage that does not discriminate. Everything and everyone is a target.
“Get the fuck out!” I withdraw the gun from my side and level it at the nearest guy, I don’t know his name, I don’t care as I pull the trigger and shoot him. I move to the next guy but a quick hand lowering my arm abruptly stops me from shooting him too. The other men leave quickly, dragging the injured guy from the room as they depart, fleeing, until its only me, Ryker and Wren left here. I didn’t kill him at least, a flesh wound at most.
My chest heaves with each inhale of breath, my eyes wide and teeth bared.
He doesn’t once turn to look at her. He keeps his eyes solely trained on me. “Fix your woman, Lex.”
My nostrils flare as anger and confusion and pure blinding rage run through my system like a rampaging bull. I watch him leave, his shoulders tense, spine ramrod straight and the click of the door closing is as loud as the gun I just fired.
Ryker’s comment wasn’t one to shame Wren, it was one of understanding. He knows what’s happening to her and to me, something that would never happen to me. I have a weakness, one I’ve had for months now and I also know he’ll be there to protect her with his life as much as I will be.
She lays sprawled on the bed, medicated and asleep, naked body with all the cuts, the bruises and scars Valentine subjected her to on show to me.
I see the canular discarded on the floor where she ripped it from her hand and also the new wound on her thigh where she tried to rid herself of the brand and realize this is way beyond my capabilities. Sighing, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Ryker, instructing him to get the doc here as soon as possible and in the meantime, I dress her, careful to avoid the wounds on her body.
A short time later, Wren now covered in a pair of my boxer shorts and a large undershirt, the doc arrives. He surveys her where she lays in the bed, the wound badly dressed by my hand but at least I’ve stemmed the bleeding.
“What happened?” The doc asks.
“Fix it.”
He sighs and gets to work, first on the leg she mutilated. He unwraps the gauze I put on to stem the bleeding and sucks in a breath. “What happened?”
I shake my head, refusing to bring the images back to my head, “She tried to rid herself of the brand.”
“This poor girl.”
My brows pull down as the doc brings all the supplies he needs from the case. “She didn’t deserve this.”
He starts to clean it up, putting antiseptic fluid and other ointments onto the wound, wiping gently over the top and around the edges, “She could need a skin graft here.” He says.
“Do what you must.”
The doc sighs, “Do you think maybe she would be better off without you?”
This is the type of comment that would usually switch me in a matter of seconds but his words hit some deep rooted part of me that knows he is right. This,this whole entire thing,is my fault.
“Yeah, doc, I know.”
He gets to work, and I leave him to it, positioning myself in the chair across from the bed, not interrupting him as he fixes up my little bird. When she’s wrapped and medicated, he nods his head once and exits, leaving me with my sleeping woman.
There’s a pile of medication on the cabinet next to me that I know I’ll have to force her to take but right now I can watch her as she sleeps, as medically induced as it is.
At least like this she slightly resembles the woman I lost in the club all those weeks ago.
Her hair, now dry and wild like I remembered fans around her head like a fiery halo, her dark lashes resting on top of her cheeks as she dreams, hopefully something more pleasant than whatever is plaguing her every other time. The sedation will wear off soon but I can appreciate this time now.
She’ll hate me when she wakes.
I knew whatever animosity she felt towards me was long gone, I knew I had her but how much damage is this going to do to the already precarious balance we had. Regardless of whether she wanted nothing to do with me, regardless of if she kicked and screamed and fought me, she was mine. I had her. I was never letting her go. I would not lose her again.
At my side is where she belonged. At my side is where she will stay.