Is this heaven?
Or is this hell?
When the door bursts open, a whimper escapes my lips. They’ve come for me. But my mind is screaming out in protest. No more torture. I simply can’t bear it.
And when hands wrap around my back and under my legs, lifting me into warm arms, my head lolls against a hard chest. “J-just k-k-kill m-me,” I stammer as my entire body trembles uncontrollably.
“You’re not dying, Victoria,” a deep voice that I recognize instantly tells me. “I won’t allow it.”
And in that moment, I realize I am already dead. And thisisheaven.
“You’re safe now. You’re safe,” he repeats over and over again.
“Arlo,” I whisper, curling up closer to his chest and inhaling his familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla.
And then I let him carry me away into the unknown. Because I know that, if we’re together, he won’t let anything bad happen to me.
CHAPTER 15
DAMON
I PACE THE length of Giorgio Ciccone’s old office —now my office— as the doctor I hired rattles off everything that’s wrong with Victoria.
“She’s dehydrated and malnourished. She has bacterial pneumonia in both of her lungs. It’s treatable, but I don’t know how much damage has been done to her lungs until I get some of the test results back.” He pauses before continuing. “With her weakened immune system and the state of hypothermia she was in, we’re definitely in for an uphill battle. Her organs were beginning to shut down to preserve heat and to protect her brain, so she has a slight heart arrhythmia I need to keep an eye on. There could also be some long-term damage to her organs that could come up later on down the road.” He looks down over his long list. “All of her wounds are being treated with antibiotics. I didn’t see any signs of sepsis, so that’s one good thing.” Hesitating, his gray eyes meet mine before he suggests, “I think she should be in a hospital.”
“She’s not going to a hospital,” I growl. Brody Farrell is still out there, and he’s going to be seeking revenge for what Victoria’s father and I did to his family. Victoria isn’t safe anywhere but here, with me.
He nods in response, understanding that I’m completely and utterly dependent upon him to make her well again.
“She’s going to get better,” I state matter-of-factly. There is no other outcome that my mind can focus on other than the fact that I will getmyVictoria back.
“She should get better with treatment and time.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “Physicallyspeaking.”
I stop pacing and glare at him. I know what he’s not saying. With the torture she endured, mentally speaking, she may never recover. Well, I’m prepared to deal with that. It’s my fault she was vulnerable and put in that position in the first place, and I’m ready to deal with the consequences of my past mistakes.
“Thank you, Doctor. That will be all,” I say, dismissing him.
Needing to see her, I go to Victoria’s room. She’s in her childhood bedroom, where I figured she’d be the most comfortable, the room I remember sneaking into when we were kids. I remember it being all pink and frilly even though Victoria was more of a tomboy and hated the color.
She never asked her parents for a change, however, because her mother painted it before Victoria was born, and she loved her mother with all of her heart.
The walls are still the color of Pepto-Bismol, just like I recall, as I step into the room. Victoria looks so small and fragile in the large, four-poster bed with a white canopy. She’s hooked up to an IV that’s pumping her full of the medicine and nutrients that she so desperately needs right now.
She’s been unconscious ever since the rescue, and the doc said it’s probably her brain trying to recover from all the trauma she suffered. He assured me that she’ll wake up when she’s good and ready.
When we first arrived here, I had gently bathed and dressed her in clean clothes before putting her in bed. I can smell her apple-scented shampoo from here.
The marks and bruises on her body that I bore witness to made me want to kill Nolan Farrell all over again. Only this time, slowly and with my bare fucking hands.
Anger ripples through me in waves, but I’m completely calm by the time I crawl in bed beside Victoria. She’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. The only thing that’s keeping me from running out and painting the streets red with the blood of every Irishman in this godforsaken city.
Her skin is still cool to the touch, but nothing like the icy cold that I felt when I first held her in my arms after I rescued her from that underground bunker. The doc was able to get her body temperature up to almost normal, but she still feels cold to me.
Sitting up, I take off my shirt, and huddle under the thick blankets with her, pulling her into my arms and allowing my body heat to comfort her.
It feels right having her here with me, almost like we never left off from where we were…even though things have drastically changed between then and now.
I gently kiss her forehead and whisper vows of protection into her ear. I tell her that I’ll always be there for her and that we’ll be together soon.
