6. Hollis
T ired doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel.
The past few months have been…rough for everyone.
And now, there’s one more thing to deal with.
Those fuckers hurt someone I love, but not only that, they made it so I have limited resources in order to track them down.
That, more than anything, is grating. Rendering me helpless in a way I haven’t felt since I was locked in a bare room until I was too broken down to fight back. Or…at least, only left with one option.
As I hold Roman’s hand in mine, all I can think about is what happened the last time I felt so fucking helpless. The scars on my wrist seem to throb and ache, as if they were once again badly patched up by fucking Gerald Bradley.
A hand on my shoulder has me jerking in my seat, and without thinking, I pull my knife. The hiss of pain brings me back to my senses, and I watch as blood blooms on Jude’s sleeve from where I cut him.
Looking up into pale green irises that are highlighted by the dark circles under his eyes, I find concern bleeding through his usually controlled expression. “Sorry,” I sign.
He looks down at his arm and then shrugs before replying, “Someone can patch me up. No worries, Hol. How about you go to bed? Il Padrone said they set aside rooms for us.”
I shake my head. “There’s too much to do. I have to somehow find a way to order parts and build a new rig?—”
“Leandro is already on it. He’s been talking to H and they’ve ordered everything you need, and the Martellis said you can use their computers until then.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It’s what we have right now, Amore Mio.
Go to bed.” He holds up a hand when I try to protest. “No, you need your bed. I’m here.
I’m sure Cristian will be back down here soon, once he’s able to escape Carter.
Tennant allowed himself to be bullied to bed by a mouse, but you and I both know that’s only going to last an hour or two.
“So, you can take some time to regroup. I’ll be fine for now, and Ignacio is still waiting.” The literal sign for chaos that Jude’s chosen for Ignacio’s sign name is still amusing, even if I can’t find the humor in it right now.
“You think you can tell me what to do, Agnellino?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “Roman isn’t going anywhere. Our enemies aren’t going anywhere.” His lips twist in distaste as he signs. “Everything can wait until we’ve gotten some sleep and have our heads on straight.”
“If I leave him…”
“No one is going to leave him alone for a second. I highly doubt he’d appreciate waking up fully and finding himself surrounded by exhausted, pissed off, bloodthirsty lovers. He’ll be the first to remind us he’s not made of glass and can take care of himself.”
I snort. “Yet he keeps getting hurt!”
Jude’s features soften. “Yeah… I know. But that’s true for Ten, too.”
I grimace. “It makes me want to kidnap you all and keep you safe.”
“Lio, too?”
“Especially him. He might be Il Padrone’s Death, but that terrifies me as much as Roman’s reckless arrogance does.”
Jude reaches out and tugs on my hair, forcing my head back.
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.
“You can’t wrap us up in a bubble, Hol. Especially those two, but you can be there to love us through anything and everything that happens.
But not if you’re so beaten down that you can’t even function. Got it?”
I groan, and even though he can’t hear it, he raises an eyebrow and stares at me without blinking.
Cursing under my breath, I get out of the chair when he moves away. Leaning over Roman, I press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. He moans and shifts in his sleep, but the drugs they gave him after he woke up from surgery keep him under.
Still, I look over at where Soren is sitting in the corner of the room, offering us as much privacy as he can while still monitoring Roman.
The nurse gets up and comes over to check Roman’s vitals, then he fiddles with the IV they’re using to administer his pain meds. “He’s fine,” he signs. “I don’t think he’ll wake for a while yet.”
“Who’s on shift next?”
“Dr. Ranlen. And if she’s anything like Doc, she’ll be pissed that you’re not getting proper sleep.”
“Fucking doctors,” I mutter.
Soren huffs a laugh. “Go to bed, Roman will be fine.”
Every instinct in me is screaming to not leave, but then there’s the part of my brain that needs to do something, yet knows I can’t. Armed with only my phone and tablet, there’s only so much I can do. I’m good, but I am not that good. Not for the level of work I need to run through.
Suddenly, everything feels too…hard. Too exhausting, too much…just too everything.
“I’m going to bed.”
Stepping away from Roman, I kiss Jude. Letting the feel of him ground me to reality, even though every little touch makes my skin ache.
“Don’t stay too long,” I tell him.
“Just until Ten or Cristian comes back,” he assures me.
Trusting that Jude has more sense than the rest of us, I choose to take him at his word, pressing one last kiss to his mouth before leaving the medical suite.
As predicted, Ignacio is still waiting. “I’m going to bed for a bit.
You can go in. Jude is staying until someone else comes to trade places with him.
” Hesitating, I decide to help the poor guy out a bit.
“He’s not wearing his hearing aids because he’s exhausted and needs a break.
He can read your lips and has enough residual hearing to understand you if you speak clearly enough, but Soren can interpret if it’s important.
Don’t let him inconvenience himself just to make conversation. ”
Ignacio scowls. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not an idiot.”
“I’m too tired to care about your feelings. Jude is used to accommodating people rather than the other way around. I’m trying to help you with him.”
He sighs. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“Do you want me to escort you to your room?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. Go be with Roman. I’ll be fine.”
Ignacio studies me for a long moment, but must decide it’s not worth it as he slips into the medical room rather than saying anything else.
Instead of going upstairs to find the room set aside from us, or asking someone, I wander around the house. I’m sure they’re watching me on the cameras, but I couldn’t care less. All that matters is the crushing pressure in my chest and the numbness that’s spread throughout the rest of my body.
I thought I was better. Thought I had beaten my demons back, and sent them to Hell when I killed that bastard, but…the stress, the pain, the utter hopelessness, it’s beaten me down to nothing.
I left one nightmare for another. Only this one gave me false hope that I could be happy. Now…they’re trying to take everything I love away from me.
I don’t know what part of the house I’m in when my knees give out, but I end up on the floor, my back to the wall.
Flashes of my time with both Mr. Thommilson and Gerald mix with everything that’s happened since I came into the Amato Family, and suddenly, nothing makes sense except the pain in my wrist from the long-healed scars.
Without conscious thought, I find myself touching the abused flesh. The scars are no longer raised and angry, but their imprint never disappears from my memory. Looking at them, I don’t see what Roman, or Tennant, or Jude, or Emilio see. I don’t see the strength to survive, only my failure to die.
Digging my fingers into the scarred flesh, I let the pain ground me, pushing harder and harder until blood pools, but still that’s not enough.
If it wasn’t such a temptation… If I wasn’t such a fucking failure, I’d reach for my knife.
Instead, all I can do is dig my fingers in more, watching as the blood slides down my arm, over my fingers, and onto the floor.
Lifting my fingers, I study the damage before pressing them in again, letting the pain of my nails tearing into battered flesh flow through me… Until small, soft hands cover mine. The grip is firm and yet gentle at the same time, and when I look up into shining emerald eyes, something in me breaks.
My vision blurs and my world seems to collapse, as I fall into surprisingly strong arms that hold me tighter than I deserve, but I don’t know how to push the touch away. All I can do is cry, and bleed.
If only it was enough.