“Need some help, Agnellino?” Tennant passes Cecily off to Joel and frowns at me.
“I got him.” Yes, there's a little extra pressure and pain in my leg with Antonio’s added weight, but it's nothing I can't handle;I've lifted him before. Not only that, I find I can't put him down right now. Not even into Ten’s safe arms.
Now that he's back with me, solid and warm, maybe not whole but safe enough, my fear and anger is turning into relief. There's a need to get him home and examine every perfect inch of him.
The twins help me into the car, so I don't have to let Antonio go. He seems to bury himself into me as they slide into the vehicle and get hands on him, as if he doesn't want them to see what was done to him.
Kissing the top of his hair, uncaring that it's matted with blood, I say, “I love you, Bel Fiore. You're safe now. We're going to take care of you.”
He starts to shake and I hold him a little bit tighter.
The fear and adrenaline might be receding, but my need for blood is rampant. Hopefully, Ten gets what we need from Cecily quickly, because I have to make that bitch pay for touching what's mine.
Kissing Antonio again, I breathe for what feels like the first time since losing him. My brat has cemented a place in my heart, and I'll burn the world down for him. Starting with fucking Cecily…
Ikeep my head tucked into Jude’s chest, not wanting him to see the proof—the stain of who I am at heart. I want to be his Bel Fiore, not a whore. My past, once again, rears up, and it’s like I’m constantly stuck holding my breath, waiting for it to tear down everything good. It’s one thing to say I’m in charge of the whores, but it's another to be one myself. And fuck, when haven’t I been? What's worse, I'm even more disfigured, more ugly on the outside, so it matches what’s on the inside.
I whimper as Jude tries to move me. The car has come to a stop, but I refuse to let him go. His murmurs wash over me, reassuring me, but they don’t touch me, not truly. You can’t touch a broken heart, and mine? Mine is crushed beyond recognition. Hell, it’s not even a heart anymore, just a pile of ashes that are ready to blow away at any time. What good am I if I can’t be their Ghost? No, I’m not ready to face reality.
“Come on, Bel Fiore. Let’s go inside,” Jude murmurs to me and I sigh, unable to ignore him. I grudgingly leave his warm arms and slide out of the car. There are people all around, guards and other family members, but aside from a quick glance, I keep my head down, not wanting them to see the proof as well. Jude wraps his arm around me, nudging me forward.
“You need to see Doc,” Marcus notes as he comes near.
My friend’s voice is a welcome distraction, until the words click in my mind. I shake my head, because fuck that. And then I realize they’re not aimed at me, and I whirl around, facing Jude. Studying him closely, I wince at the sight of blood dripping from his arm.
“Fuck, you’re injured,” I gasp, kicking myself mentally for not noticing it beforehand. “I’m so sorry.”
Jude’s strong fingers grasp my chin, and he forces me to look into his steady eyes. “I don’t give a fuck that I’m injured. But we do both need to see Doc.”
He lightly touches my forehead, his hand coming back coated with sticky blood. It turns my stomach. I know if it’s still bleeding—even sluggishly—they’re going to make me get stitches, and those fucking itch while healing. Not to mention, I don’t want to face the probability of wearing this as a scar for the rest of my life.
Shutting down internally, I let myself get tugged inside and marched to Doc’s medical wing. I ignore the bustle around me, including Doc’s snapping voice as he gently cradles my face and gets to work. Instead, I close my eyes and pretend to be anywhere but here.
Let go. Disappear. Safety in the darkness.
Words swirl around me, movement brushes by me. I feel faint pressure here and there. Nothing that comes close to what I’ve had before—at least I don’t think so. Fuck if I know at this point. I’m too busy chasing the darkness.
“... stitches…” I flinch, but burrow deeper inside myself, where it’s safer.
“Plastic surgeon…”
No. No. No. I can’t go there. All I want is my Sir.Please. Sir can make it better, right?
“I’m here, Bel Fiore. Whatever you need.”
I latch on to those words, refusing to let go of that. Playing them over and over again.
There’s an argument that erupts, something about Jude’s leg. Fuck. Maybe I should swim back to reality? My Sir might need me.
The voices assault my sensitive ears. I cringe, guilt flooding me as I know my Sir put himself at risk to save me, and then hurt himself further by carrying me out of there. I whimper, it’s too much. It all crashes together. Drowning me. Pressing against me. Roiling inside me until nausea forces bile up my throat.
“Enough!” Jude shouts, shutting everyone up. His warm command wraps around me. “Relax, Bello. I have you now. Just rest…”
His strong arms lift me. There’s a flash of guilt for his leg, but I know not to argue with Sir. There’s grumbles from the other voices around us, but I sink into Sir’s comfort.
Movement. My eyes remain fully shut. I don’t need to see who is around. The stares. The whispers. None of that can touch me when I’m wrapped around Jude.
Only when he sets me down and gently strokes my face, do I open my eyes. Staring into the oceans of green looking back at me, I push the rest of myself forward. Knowing he’ll catch me if I need it again.
