46. Romeo

Chapter 46

Romeo

I lunge forward, wrapping an arm around Aurora’s waist and tugging her into my chest before she can hit the ground. Her body is limp and weightless in my arms. Cazzo , she’s so fragile and it’s only been a few days. Blinking down at her, I don’t question my actions before repositioning her in my arms and striding out of the warehouse. Inhaling sharply, the faint scent of jasmine comforts me, even as it feels like my entire world is imploding.

My sights are set on the convoy of SUVs discreetly parked on the opposite side of the lot. Daniele approaches from the right, jogging ahead to open the door of one before I can reach it. He holds it open, not saying a word as I climb inside with her still in my arms. When Daniele gets behind the wheel, we speed off through the industrial area.

It’s only when he pulls onto the highway that he speaks. “Massimo said he’ll take care of the warehouse and I’ve got Doc meeting us at the house.”

I don’t reply, instead, I smooth Aurora’s hair back from her face. Cataloging every detail like it might be the last time I have the opportunity. There will be nowhere the woman who did this to her can hide. Every connection I have will be utilized, and every favor called in until she’s dead.

Daniele navigates the roads, pushing the speed limit to get us back to Massimo’s as quickly as possible. She needs help and I couldn’t give a shit if we pick up a ticket or two to get her it.

Aurora stirs a couple of times during the one-hour journey, but she never opens her eyes. When we pull up outside the house, I have my door open before Daniele can put the car in park.

Cradling her in my arms, I climb the steps, calling out to Daniele, “Show Doc to our room.”

Without waiting for him to respond, I stride into the house and head straight for the stairs. I’m no more than two steps up when my eyes meet Aldo’s. His blow wide when they land on me from his position on the landing.

He pulls on his earlobe and steps to the side as I pass. “Is she… will she be okay, Don?”

My voice is strong and sure, conveying none of the uncertainty that’s churning in my gut when I affirm, “Yes. She will.”

She has to be .

I continue to our room, where I lay her on the bed before pulling off her shoes. My mouth is dry, and I run my hand over the back of my neck, squeezing it as I stare at her. She should be awake . It’s not right that she isn’t.

A knock sounds at the door and I bark out for Doc to enter. He crosses the threshold, his medical bag in hand. He looks disheveled in a pair of slacks and an untucked, creased white linen shirt. My brow furrows at his state and I look at my watch to check the time. How is it nearly midnight?

Doc lightly grips my arm, forcing me to step back. “Let me see the patient.”

I move to the end of the bed, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose as I blow out a heavy breath. Guilt fills me, but I focus on Doc as he lifts Aurora’s wrist, checking for a pulse and making a note on a chart he’s pulled from his bag. When I know she’s going to be okay, I can figure out how to make this right for her. Until then, I’ll have to live with the regret and the guilt that is eating me alive.

Under my scrutiny, Doc pulls on his gloves and carries out his examination. After a few minutes of quiet work, he looks at me over the rim of his glasses and says, “I instructed one of my nurses to bring around some equipment. Her name is Callie Brunswick. She should be here soon.”

Inclining my head, I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and shoot off a text to Daniele. His response comes within seconds, confirming he will alert the front gate and escort her up when she arrives. I throw my phone onto the bed and run a hand through my hair as I stand tall.

Doc pulls off his gloves, throwing them onto the suture kit he’s been using that is laid out on the bedside table. He turns to me, his worry evident in the wringing of his hands. “I’ve stitched up her leg. It doesn’t look to be a deep cut, but when the items arrive, I’ll hook her up for some general antibiotics and an IV to get her hydrated. I’m worried, considering how long she’s been with this open wound, that there could be a serious infection there. I’ve taken some blood, but I’ll need to get it tested in the lab so that we can pinpoint if they gave her any drugs. We’ll know more once the bloods come back. The good news is, I’ve done an ultrasound, and she’s clear of any internal bleeding.”

“Put a rush on those tests, Doc.” My tone is gruff and slightly frustrated.

He sighs heavily, putting the equipment he used back in his bag before closing the clasp. “Of course.” Coming to stand in front of me, he implores, “She needs an X-ray. Without it, I can’t confirm any broken bones, but from what Daniele told me, it’s likely that she’ll have a few broken ribs. And it feels like she’s broken her cheekbone, but, again, I can’t say for certain. Then there’s obviously the extensive bruising. Unfortunately, she’s going to be in a world of pain when she wakes up and the adrenaline has worn off, but I’ll have the nurse administer some painkillers to help with it.”

I scrub my hand over my jaw, ignoring the tightness in my chest. “Was she…?” I can’t bring myself to finish the question.

Doc squeezes my shoulder, a softness relaxing his face as he offers me a sympathetic smile. “There’s no evidence of it.” He turns to look at Aurora. “I guess a saving grace would be that whoever tortured her knew what they were doing and everything has been done to hurt, not maim or kill.”

As if that offers any level of comfort.

“When will she wake up?”

“There’s no telling. Her body has experienced extensive trauma and with these kinds of things, it’s hard to put a definitive timeline on it. When she does wake up, she’s going to need to rest for a while. Callie will fit the IV and stay with her overnight, and then I’ll pop back again tomorrow afternoon after surgery hours.”

I fix my focus back on Aurora. “Thanks, Doc.”

Clapping me on the shoulder with the familiarity of a friend, he squeezes it gently. “She’ll be okay. You got to her in time.”

She might survive this, but I’m not sure we will.

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