Chapter 35
Elena
My body is battered and bruised. I've been beaten and drugged who knows how many times. I've lost large chunks of time and I don't know what happened to me while I was unconscious. The not knowing is almost worse than knowing.
The cold has seeped into my bones. The wet shirt clings to my skin. I can't stop shivering. Can't feel my fingers or toes anymore.
Maybe it's better this way. To just... slip away. Stop fighting.
The darkness is pulling at me, soft and inviting.
I let it take me.
Somewhere far away, I hear sounds. Shouting. Gunfire.
Am I dreaming?
"Elena!" A voice. Distant. Desperate. "Elena, baby, wake up!"
I know that voice.
Hands touching me. Cutting the ropes at my wrists and ankles. Something warm wrapping around me.
"Come on, baby. Come on. You're safe now. I've got you. Just wake up for me."
Marco.
I force my eyes open. Everything is blurry. There's a face above me. Dark eyes filled with fear and relief.
"Marco?" My voice is barely a whisper.
"I'm here. I'm right here. I've got you."
Those eyes. That face. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"You came," I breathe, tears sliding down my cheeks.
"Of course I came. Did you really think I wouldn't?" His arms gather me close, holding me like I'm something precious. "I'm never letting you go again. Never."
I can't believe it. He's real. He's here.
"Little fox," he whispers against my hair.
Only one person calls me that.
I try to hold onto him but my body won't cooperate. Everything hurts. I'm so cold. But he's warm and solid and here.
Another voice. "Jesus. We need to get her out of here. Now."
Dante.
"Can you walk?" Marco asks gently.
I try. My legs won't hold me. I start to collapse but Marco catches me, lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing.
"I've got you, little fox. Just hold on to me."
I wrap my arms weakly around his neck, pressing my face against his chest. He's warm. He smells like gunpowder and cologne and safety.
He came for me.
He actually came for me.
He lifts me. I'm numb. Floating outside my body.
We leave that building, passing more bodies. Outside, a car is waiting. The passenger window rolls down and Vito appears. Marco stiffens next to me, and from the look on Vito's face, Marco and Dante went off book to rescue me. Oh shit.
I hang my head in shame when Vito sees me. He doesn't look angry at me, more like concerned. We all get into the car and ride in silence back to Vito's penthouse.
But we don't go to Vito's penthouse. Instead, we're taken to a home on the ninety-sixth floor.
Marco opens the front door and leads me inside.
I look around in shock. Everything is beautiful with white tiled floors and navy blue paint on the walls, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at New York City, lavish rugs and furniture, and the most beautiful kitchen I've ever seen, with white porcelain countertops and brass finishings.
"This is my home, Elena. And yours too now, for as long as you want it to be."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman sitting in the living room with a medical bag. Marco notices my stare.
"Hi Elena," she says sweetly.
"This is Doctor Reeves. She's going to get you started on an IV for dehydration and do some bloodwork. She also needs to..." Marco stops and looks at the doctor for help.
"I also highly recommend that we check to see if you were abused... sexually," she offers with a look of sympathy in her eyes.
Tears well in my eyes, thinking to myself, how is this my reality?
I nod my head and wipe my tears from my cheeks. "It'll only take a few minutes and then I'll be out of your hair." She smiles at me, puts on some gloves, and begins gathering everything that she'll need.
She takes my vitals first, noting a slightly elevated heart rate but assuring me it's normal after the events of tonight. She cleans my arm and starts the IV while I'm lying down on the couch. She then takes a few vials of blood, telling me everything they are going to be testing for.
"Now here's the uncomfortable part," she states. My eyes shoot to Marco in embarrassment.
"I'll step out," he says without being asked, and I love the care that he's given me since he found me.
Doctor Reeves is gentle and professional during the examination. When she's done, she sits back and meets my eyes.
"Elena, I need to tell you what I found.
" Her voice is kind but direct. "There is evidence of sexual assault.
Bruising and tearing consistent with forcible penetration, likely multiple incidents.
Based on what you've told me about being drugged and losing consciousness, this happened while you were unconscious. I'm so sorry."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Cover my eyes with my arm as tears start again. So it's confirmed. They did—while I was—
"You've been through a lot, sweetie. It's okay to cry," she pats my arm and I remove it from covering my eyes.
"It's all just overwhelming," I whisper and she nods.
"I've collected evidence. Legally, I should report this to the police—"
"No police," I say flatly. "The Rossos will handle it."
She glances toward where Marco is waiting in the other room, then nods. "I understand. The evidence will be preserved if you change your mind."
Marco comes back into the room when Doctor Reeves calls for him.
"She needs about another fifteen minutes for the IV bag to be empty.
She can eat if she can stomach it. Bathing can be done in the shower or bath but lukewarm water only, the hot water will dehydrate her more, and don't make it too long either," she lists off the instructions for my care.
"Biggest thing is she needs rest. And she'll need follow-up care—physical and psychological.
I'll be back to check on her in the morning. "
Doctor Reeves walks to the door. As soon as it's shut, Marco sits next to me on the couch as we wait for the IV to finish. I sit up slowly because if I keep lying down I'm going to fall asleep. I turn to see a red stain on his couch.
"Oh shit, I forgot I was wearing your shirt, and you had blood on it, and..." I ramble.
"I'll get a new couch. As long as you're okay, I don't care about a stain," he smiles at me and I smile back before finally noticing his shoulder. I reach for it and he lets me.
"Are you okay?" I say, stroking his arm.
"Don't even feel it. I only feel you," he looks at me tenderly and I almost cry again. How can he look at me like that when he knows what they did? I'm dirty and disgusting and... used.
"How about I draw you a bath?" he asks as soon as the IV is empty. I nod at him and he removes the needle gently before he places a cotton ball and bandage over the small wound. He helps me up and I feel so much better already with the fluids in my system.
We walk back down the hall past the front door.
On our way we pass two rooms which look like bedrooms until we get to the end of the hall and enter into this massive room.
It's definitely the master bedroom. The expansive space has minimal furniture and tall ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows just like the living room.
To the left is the bathroom. Marco walks into it and starts the tub water.
I follow behind him and watch him check the temperature of the water, add Epsom salt for my sore body, and bubble bath.
He lights a few candles that he pulled from under the sink and places them around the tub.
Once everything is set up, he stands back. The candlelight flickers across his face, highlighting the concern in his eyes.
I don't want him to see my body like this, bruised and battered and used. He reaches for the bottom hem of my shirt to lift it over my head, and I place my hands on top of his to stop him.
He steps back immediately, dropping his hands. Pain flashes across his face.
"I can't—" My voice breaks. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"Elena—"
"I'm dirty. I'm—" The words catch in my throat. "They—you heard what he said. What they did. And I can't remember and I don't know—"
"Stop." Marco steps closer but doesn't touch me. "Listen to me. Whatever they did to you—whatever happened while you were unconscious—it doesn't change how I see you. It doesn't change anything."
Tears spill down my cheeks. "How can you say that? How can you look at me and not see—"
"I see you, Elena. The woman who's been fighting to survive. The woman who stood up to Ronan even when she was terrified. The woman who's stronger than she knows." His voice is fierce. Certain. "What they did to you—that's on them. Not you. Never you."
"But I feel—" I wrap my arms around myself. "I feel broken. Used. Like I'm not—"
"You're not broken. You're hurt. There's a difference." He reaches up slowly, telegraphing the movement, and cups my face. "And nothing—nothing—could make me think less of you. I never could."
I want to believe him. Want to lean into his touch and let him hold me. But my body won't cooperate. I tense under his hand, and he feels it.
He drops his hand and takes a step back. "I'm going to give you space. Privacy. Whatever you need." His voice is gentle. "I'll be right outside if you need me. Just call out and I'll be here in seconds."
"Okay," I whisper.
"There are towels on the shelf. Clean clothes on the bed." He pauses at the door. "Take your time. There's no rush."
He starts to leave, then turns back. "Elena? You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you again. I promise."
The door closes softly behind him.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at the bath. The bubbles are starting to dissipate. The water will get cold soon.
With shaking hands, I pull off the oversized shirt. Try not to look at the bruises mottling my skin in shades of purple and yellow. Try not to think about how they got there.
I step into the lukewarm water and sink down. The Epsom salt stings the cuts and abrasions but I welcome the pain. It's proof I'm still here. Still alive.
I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
And then, finally alone, I let myself break.
The sobs come silently at first. Just my body shaking, tears streaming down my face into the bathwater. Then louder. Gasping breaths that echo off the tile.
I press my hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds. Don't want Marco to hear. Don't want him to know how thoroughly shattered I am.
But the truth is, I don't know how to put the pieces back together. Don't know if I ever will.
I kneel there in the cooling water, arms wrapped around myself, and cry for everything I've lost. For the time I can't remember. For the things that were done to me while I was unconscious. For the girl I was before all this started.
I don't know how long I stay like that. But eventually, the tears slow. My breathing evens out.
I'm still broken. Still scared. Still lost.
But Marco's right outside that door. And for now, that's enough to keep me from drowning completely.