Understandable. After today's shock and what had just happened, she'd reached her breaking point.
I bent down and lifted her into my arms. She was so light it made my chest constrict. She'd been eating properly these past weeks, but still hadn't put on much weight. Walking out of the shower, I grabbed a clean towel from the nearby rack and wrapped her entirely in it.
She stirred slightly in my arms, letting out a sleepy murmur.
"It hurts..."
Just two words, but it cut through me like a dull blade.
I pushed open the bathroom door. Darya was waiting outside.
"Have the doctor stand by... get Emily," I said. "Prepare ointment and painkillers."
"Yes, boss."
"Also," I paused, "prepare warm milk and easily digestible food. Bring it when she wakes."
"Yes."
Carrying her through the corridor from bathroom to bedroom, her head rested against my shoulder, warm breath brushing my neck. The sensation was contradictory—moments ago I'd been brutal with her, yet now I was handling her with utmost care, terrified of causing more pain.
I laid her gently on the bed. She curled up, brow furrowed, clearly still in pain. Her lips were swollen and torn from my bites, finger marks vivid on her neck—stark reminders of how much force I'd used.
"Shit." I cursed myself under my breath.
A knock at the door.
"Boss, the doctor's here."
"Come in."
Emily entered with her medical bag. Seeing Noelle on the bed, sympathy flickered across her face.
"Boss, I need to examine Mrs. Morozov's injuries."
"Go ahead." I stood and walked to the window.
Behind me came the sounds of the medical kit opening, Emily quietly asking Darya to assist, and Noelle's pained whimpers when her injuries were touched. Each sound pierced my heart.
"Boss, Mrs. Morozov's external injuries aren't severe—mainly bruising and abrasions. I've applied medication. However..."
"What?"
"Mrs. Morozov's very weak," Emily chose her words carefully. "Sheneeds proper rest. For at least a week, she shouldn't engage in any... strenuous activities." The final words were barely whispered.
"Understood. You may go."
"Yes." Emily packed up and left.
Darya was about to leave as well when I stopped her.
"Have the kitchen prepare more nourishing broths. What are her preferences?"
Darya considered this. "Mrs. Morozov seems to prefer light flavors—nothing too oily or heavily spiced."
"Then keep it light." I paused. "Also, bring up all her travel magazines."
"Yes."
