The older man steps forward, taking a key from his pocket, and unlocks the door, letting it swing open and ushering the other two goons inside. They step in, just far enough to drop Knox in a heap on the cold concrete, then they quickly back away out of our cage and wait on the other side of the bars. The older man casts a quick glance at Knox, his brows deeply furrowed, then he shuts our door.
Knox lets out a pained groan before rolling over onto his back and my fists clench so tightly that I swear I feel fucking bloodfrom my short nails digging into my palms. His face is a mottle of bloodied bruising, one eye almost entirely swollen shut, and blood dripping from what looks like a broken nose as well as the cut on his head. In short, he’s a fucking mess.
“Be careful, fucking heathens!” Tarl shouts, immediately rushing to Knox’s side, but the two Soldiers just snigger before they start to head back towards the door.
“Come on, Doc,” one says to the older guy. So, he is a doctor. I leave Knox to Tarl and watch the Soldiers, wondering what the good doctor is here for.
“I’m here to see to Lark,” the Doc replies as he gives Knox a final once over. His voice is gentle yet commanding as he looks at me, his gaze intense, like he’s willing me to understand something. Then he turns back to the Soldiers. “You go and I’ll be along presently.” A breath whooshes out of my chest, relief flooding my veins at the thought of Lark finally getting some medical attention.
“We really shouldn’t leave you, Doc. If anything happens, Rufus will have our hides,” the other Soldier says, looking at his friend with a wrinkled brow, then back at Doc.
“What’s a little slip of a girl going to do, hum? She’s barely conscious, and she knows me. I’ve tended to her many times.” There’s a tightness to the older man’s features as he says the last part, his lips pursing as though he doesn’t approve of Lark’s treatment. Perhaps he can be an ally to us. “And I hear Annabelle and her girls are coming tonight, a gift from Rufus for a job well done last night.”
Both of the Soldiers perk up at that, and I’m guessing from their lecherous grins that Annabelle and her girls are ladies of the night here to reward the Soldiers for capturing us.
“Well, just holler if you need anything,” the Soldier answers, turning away and I watch as they both rush down the walkway, their excitement tangible.
The Doc turns to Lark’s cage once the door shuts behind the Soldiers, and I’m sure his shoulders slump a little when he looks at her. He’s quick to walk over and unlock her door with his key, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.
“Lark, poor little bird. What have they done to you this time?” he asks himself, and I watch eagle-eyed as he steps closer to her, immediately going on his knees and with a care that seems out of place in this harsh place. He gently turns her onto her back, sucking in a harsh breath when he sees how bad she is. Moisture fills my eyes at the sight of all the bruises on her beautiful face and body.
Her whimper of pain has me rushing to the bars, and it’s then that I realize he didn’t lock the door after they dropped Knox in here. Silently, I pull it open just enough so that I can slip out, crossing the narrow walkway in seconds and reaching for her door.
“I’m trusting you not to do anything stupid, boy,” Doc says, not taking his eyes off Lark as he checks her pulse. “You can’t escape, even through the coal chute with the condition that two of your party are in, and your father is on his way and orders you to stay put.”
My heart skips a beat and I freeze, hovering in front of her door, my brows dipping. “You know my father?”
“I’ve been on the Tailor payroll for years, son, though this is the first time Rufus has allowed me into Soldier HQ. I always treated her at the house before, though this is the worst I’ve ever seen her. He doesn’t usually let them get so rough,” he tells me, keeping his eyes on his work and pressing his hands along her ribs, tutting at her cry of pain. “Two fractured, the rest badly bruised. I’ll give you some pain medication soon, Lark.” Her eyelids flutter, but aside from the tightness of her features, she doesn’t acknowledge his words.
Grabbing the door and shutting it behind me, I hurry to her side, dropping to my knees, and barely registering the pain as they hit the hard floor. I take her hand in mine, worry making my throat constrict and mouth dry at how cold her fingers are.
“A–Aeron?” Her lips barely move as she forms the word, her own brow wrinkled as the Doc checks the rest of her. She bats her lashes, and although her eyes can barely seem to focus, she looks at me and the agony in her blue depths has my jaw clenching hard enough to crack a fucking tooth.
“I’m here, Dove, and Doc is here too. He’s going to make the pain go away.” I blink furiously, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall every time she winces or jerks, knowing that each one means another bruise, another hurt that I didn’t keep her safe from.
“It hurts so bad, Aeron,” she whimpers, her lids fluttering, and fuck, my soul shatters at her strained words. Rage fills me until I have to take several deep breaths just to see straight again.
“I know, baby, but it’ll stop soon, I promise.” I’m a fucking liar and I loathe myself for it, for the traitorous platitudes that spill from my lips.
“I’m going to examine in between your legs now, Lark, okay?” Doc advises her, his voice soothing and gentle.
“O–okay,” she stutters, turning her head towards me as Doc opens her legs. I don’t miss the slight flinch he gives as he sees the damage, and I have to count backwards from ten to stop myself from storming into the main room, finding that dead man, Dean, and watching the life fade from his eyes after he’s endured the worst pain of his life.
“Hey, Nightingale, I’m here too,” Jude tells her from her other side, and I look up to see him kneeling beside her, holding her other hand as tears track freely down his cheeks.
“J–Jude?” She doesn’t move, her eyelids now tightly screwed up, but her grip gets tighter, and a breath hisses out of her as Doc works between her beautiful thighs.
“I’m going to give you some local anesthetic while I get you stitched up, okay, Lark?” Doc questions, and she nods, making a small sound when he injects her.
“You’re being so brave, my Nightingale,” Jude tells her before he brings his head down to her ear and starts singing “Once Upon a Dream” from Sleeping Beauty.
I can feel the slight shudder as she quietly cries while Jude sings and the Doc works between her legs. I feel so fucking impotent, not at all like the future leader of the Tailors, the richest gang in the Western United States.
“All done, Lark,” Doc informs her, taking out a syringe and small glass bottle. “Here’s some morphine, just to make you comfortable tonight.” She doesn’t even wince when he injects her, and I watch as he stores the bottle, and throws the syringe in a small yellow hazard bag along with his latex gloves and several bloody pieces of gauze. Going back into his leather bag he pulls out a new packet of panties, some leggings, and a tank top, along with a box of what looks like sanitary pads, plus a packet of antibacterial wipes. “Make sure you keep it as clean as possible and change these regularly. I’ll tell your father that I need to visit every day to check for signs of infection.”
“O–okay,” she replies, her voice a husk of the rich, sexy tone it usually is.
“Will we get to come in here each day?” Jude asks as Doc gathers all of his other instruments and puts them back in his bag.
