She was having a nightmare.
"No... don't..." Her voice was faint, laced with fear.
My heart clenched hard. What was she dreaming? The shit I'd put her through? Or something worse?
She curled up, hands instinctively guarding her chest—right where my name was etched.
"I'm not... I didn't..." she murmured, voice thick with despair.
I almost reached out to wake her, but my hand froze mid-air. What right did I have to comfort her? I'd caused these nightmares myself.
After a while, her breathing evened out, and she sank back into sleep.
I exhaled slowly, pulled out the ointment, and gently lifted the blanket. Every bruise on her was proof of my brutality.
I twisted open the tube, squeezed some onto my fingers. The scent of mint and herbs filled the air. I leaned in, applying it feather-light to the worst mark on her arm. My fingertips circled her skin, tracing every ridge of the wound.
This was my doing.
I hiked up her nightgown hem. The bruise on her waist glared in the dimness. I gritted my teeth and kept going.
Spreading her legs, the finger marks on her inner thighs screamed my asshole moves; shifting her panties aside, the swelling at her core hadn't faded.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse and foreign. "I'm sorry..."
After tending every spot, I capped the ointment and tucked herback in. But I couldn't leave, just sat on the edge, staring at her peaceful face.
If only time could rewind...
I shook my head. No ifs. I'd use what time I had left to make up for the irreparable damage.
"Madam's temperature,pulse, and weight logs. Medical team assessment shows good recovery in bodily functions."
I scanned the report data, fingers lingering on "appetite improved" and "sleep stable." I waved Dmitri off, and he vanished quietly.
When the study door knocked softly, I wasn't surprised. Monitors showed she'd paced outside for five minutes. She pushed in, looking decent.
"What is it?"
"I want to go out for a bit."
I didn't want to allow it, but thinking of her stuck in bed for four full days because of me, guilt hit hard.
"Fine."
Her eyes lit up with disbelief, like a shooting star in the night.
"I'll allow one outing per week," I added, watching joy bloom on her face. "But Dmitri's men will tail you the whole time. I'll know your route, who you meet, and how long you stay." I locked eyes. "No contacting anyone on the list, including Isabella."
"I get it! I promise!" She bounced out like a little bird, light on her feet.
I called Dmitri right away. "Set up guards. She picks time and place. Allow bookstores, galleries, public spots. Give her the restricted list."
"Surveillance level?" Dmitri confirmed.
"Keep distance. No intervention unless she tries the list or bolts. Log places, times, purchases. Keep her safe."
"Understood."
