“We promised that if she saved you, we’d release her,” Dario adds, his tone firm. The room falls quiet after Dario’s words. My head throbs, the pain in my shoulder pulsates with every heartbeat, but it’s nothing compared to the storm that rages inside me.
Elle. The name lingers and circulates through my mind, wrapped in the faint scent of vanilla she left behind. She saved my life—that much is undeniable. Yet she’s a stranger, someone outside the Family—dragged here against her will. Gratitude claws at me.
I glance at Dante and Dario. Their faces are etched with exhaustion, but also relief. They gambled to save my life, and somehow, it paid off. Still, their recklessness burns in me.
“She’s not one of ours,” I mutter, my voice low, but sharp. “You risked everything bringing her here. If word gets out…” I trail off, the headache pounding harder.
Dante’s jaw tightens, but his hand remains steady on my shoulder. “We had no choice, brother. You were dying. She was the only one who could save you.”
Dario leans forward, his tone firm. “We promised her freedom if she kept you alive. And she did. You owe her your life.”
I close my eyes, torn between fury and reluctant acknowledgment. Elle Thomas. A stranger. A doctor. My savior. And now, a complication I can’t ignore.
“What about her family? Her job? Wouldn’t someone have noticed by now—maybe even called the police?” My voice rises with exasperation.
Dante shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes. “Dom… we had her call her job. She told them she had to leave town for an emergency.” “And how exactly did you get her to agree to this?” Dante hesitates, then blurts, “Well… I used persuasivemaneuvering—with a pistol pointed at her.” Dario’s gaze swivels between us, waiting for the eruption he knows is coming.
My blood boils at the thought of Elle’s panic. I force a deep breath, steadying myself. They know I don’t condone violence against women—not after what my mother endured at my father’s hands.
“And she doesn’t have any family,” Dario adds quickly. “She grew up in foster care.” Before I can respond, the door opens. Elle steps inside, pausing as if to gather herself. Clearing her throat nervously, she says, “It’s time to change your dressing.”
She moves around the room, collecting supplies with quiet determination.
“We’ll finish this later.” Clearly, they got the message as they nodded, leaving the room like they couldn’t get away quickly enough. Elle sits in the chair she vacated earlier. Pulling it closer to get a better view of my shoulder. Her elegant fingers expertly cut the bandages open, poking gently at the skin around my sutured wound causing me to flinch.
“Sorry…the wound looks good, there’s no sign of infection,” she murmurs and bites her lower lip in concentration. I force myself to look away. After an ointment is applied, she then dresses the injury.
“It’s okay, the pain isn’t too bad. Whatever you gave me earlier helped—it’s just a dull ache now.” She nods, avoiding my eyes. “Roll over. I need to check your back.” With a grunt, I obey. The coolness of her touch sends a pleasant shiver through me.
“I don’t think these need dressing anymore,” she murmurs, barely audible. Her warm breath grazes my skin, and I curse silently as my body reacts in ways it shouldn’t.Fucking hell!She’ll think that I’m a pervert.
Thank God for the sheet covering me. She mustn’t notice. After everything—being kidnapped, forced to treat me—it would be unforgivable to impose anything on her.
When I roll back, she starts to move away, but I catch her wrist gently. A sharp jolt courses through me, but I push it aside as I fight to sit upright. She steadies me, tucking pillows behind my back.
“I want to thank you, Elle, for saving me. I know I can’t apologize enough for how you were brought here. But as my brother promised, we’ll let you go as soon as we’re able to leave.”
Elle’s face flushes as she says, “Okay. Eh, who did this to you?” I pause before answering—being deliberately vague. “I have enemies. I can’t tell you more—for your own safety.” She jerks her hands back, eyes wide, and rushes from the room, leaving me with the echo of her retreat.
Chapter 5
~Elle~
It’s been a week since I’ve been taken and three days since Dominic woke up. Since then, I’ve been spending more time in the bedroom that Dante has shown me to. I only venture into Dominic’s room when his dressing needs changing, or his medication is due.
He is out of bed now and ambulating. My bedroom is opposite his—making it impossible for me to not be aware of his frequent meetings with Dante and Dario. Their conversations pause every time I enter any room they've assembled in. God alone knows what is being discussed.
I’m isolated in my gilded prison. Other than the three men, Jimmy is the only other person I’ve met. He was the driver of the van that was used to kidnap me. He’s young, barely out of his teens, maybe twenty-one, and is the one who has been responsible for our meals.
They all seem to defer to Dominic. I’ve occasionally heard him being referred to as ‘boss’ and with Dominic’s talk of having enemies, I wonder what’s going on here? They don’t appear to be living normal lives. Now that Dominic is up and about, I know that I’ll soon be getting back to my life.
My face flushes with embarrassment and my heart races with the memory of his body’s reaction to me when I changed his dressings on the day he’d awakened.
This attraction to him is, at best, inconvenient. Based on all that I’ve observed, he’s more than likely involved in organized crime. Why else would they avoid going to the hospital, or to the police, after what was done to Dominic? If I’m smart, I’ll keep my distance.
The damage done to his back was most definitely caused by a whip. I cringe. Remembering the myriads of injuries….weals with skin stripped off his broad muscular back and pink, open wounds. A kaleidoscope of colors surrounding each injury. His wrists bore the raw evidence of restraint, ligature marks etched deep into the skin.
The memory of Dante and Dario speaking to Dominic about me still burns with mortification. I remember his fury at them—for my abduction, for daring to point a gun at me. Standing outside his bedroom door, I listened, and warmth had spread through me as I imagined what it might feel like to be protected by a man like him. A foolish part of me wanted to belong to him. But when he was told I had no family, shame crushed me. It dragged me back to the truth of my unworthiness. Stupid, stupid Elle—the girl who never really belonged to anyone.
