A fifteen-year-old minor was admitted to Mystic General for a shoulder fracture and severe bruising. Patient claims she fell down the stairs, but the wounds do not correlate with the incident described. Left against medical advice.
A fifteen-year-old minor was admitted to Mystic General for severe dehydration and malnutrition. Left against medical advice.
A fifteen-year-old minor was admitted to Mystic General for a hairline fracture in the forearm. Noted obvious bruising along the neck and jaw, and a few healing scars on the arms. Left against medical advice.
And they just keep going. This is a major HIPAA violation to look through someone’s medical history, but with the connections we have, it’s nothing to squeeze through the system undetected. But I wasn’t expecting this.
We knew her home life wasn’t great. It was obvious with the tattered clothes she wore and how downcast and dejected she always looked. There was an untold story that no one had taken the time to sit down and listen to, and now, I don’t blame her for her attitude towards us.
I sit back in my chair, rubbing my hands over the sides of my nose before slamming my laptop shut with too much force.
I can’t look at this anymore.
“What’s got you so worked up?” Kairo asks as he props himself against the doorframe of my borrowed room.
It’s nice enough with the luxurious four-poster bed and the ample closet space, but none of that matters to me. Not when I have a whole file compiled of abuse that our Siren faced for years.
And we didn’t make her life any easier.
“I sent you everything. Make sure you review it.” I dismiss, pushing up from my chair.
“I’ll look over it tonight,” he shrugs as he walks behind me.
We go down the stairs and walk onto the main floor. The smell of something mouthwatering touches my nose, and I follow it to the kitchen. Rosalie is at the stove, her back to us as she flips some chicken and makes pasta. There’s a creamy white sauce in one of the pans as she flutters between each burner with evenly spread care. She hums lightly to herself, her voice mellifluous and so pleasing to hear.
“Making us dinner, huh?” Kairo smirks, causing her to jump and whirl around to us. “That’s bound to get you fucked, Thorn.”
I don’t miss the way her blush paints over her chest. With the V-neck shirt she wears, I can see just how far it spreads as it reaches her cleavage. “Shut up.” She mutters, returning to the food. “And I never said this was for you.”
“Hmm,” Kairo hums as he wanders around the island to stand beside her. He looks over her work, a brow raised. “Four chicken breasts and enough pasta to feed a small army. You’re cooking for us.” He places his elbow on the counter before resting his chin in his palm. “You like us.”
She tenses, her whole body coiling tightly as if Kairo’s words just stabbed her. A bitter chuckle falls from her lips as she stirs the pasta harshly. “Feeding you doesn’t mean I like you. Don’t get it twisted.”
“Oh, I’m not, Thorn.” Kairo croons. “You can hate me all you want, but it doesn’t destroy what’s between us.”
She whips around to him, her face hard. “There’s nothing between us.”
“Keep telling yourself that, baby.” He goads.
“You’re insufferable,” She mutters.
I sit at the island, giving my friend a warning glare. “Don’t make me separate you two.”
Kairo chuckles. “Put Thorn on her knees. She’s being bad.”
Rosalie lifts a wooden spoon to his face. “I will smack you. Leave me alone.”
He grins like a love-drunk fool, eating her reactions up. “Give me one good tap, and I’ll chase you around. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask sweetly.”
She makes a deep rumble in her throat, going back to cooking as she ignores Kairo. My friend stays propped against the counter, bothering her with little things—touching the spoon resting in one of the pots, flicking the burner higher so she has to reset the dial, and just being a nuisance to her peace.
She looks ready to smack him upside the head before I cut in. “I have some questions for your file.”
Her shoulders tense slightly before she relaxes and returns to stirring the sauce. “Okay.”
“You said the main suspect is your dad. What brought this on? Has he done anything like this in the past?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and a tension fills the kitchen. Kairo is no longer bothering her as we wait for her response. She sighs before cutting the burners and turning to face me. “Three years ago, I was just getting back from my second tour when my security team had alerted me that someone had broken into my property. They called the police, but I beat them to my home. My dad managed to get past my night guards, who had him detained in the foyer when I arrived.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes as she rubs a hand over her bicep. Long ago, her agony was like a drug to us. We were so twisted that we craved her discomfort and pain. Now, I want to turn it into something entirely different. “He asked me for money first, and I offered him a hefty check to leave, but that wasn’t enough. It never is…” She’s transported back into a memory we only get the chance to see from the outside—a day terror that haunts her. She clears her throat. “He lunged at me and grabbed me before my security could wrestle him down to the ground. He bruised my arm, and I filed a police report for breaking and entering and assault. Before they put him in the squad car, he vowed he was going to make my life hell for abandoning him. He used the money I gave him to post bail and got out with a slap on the wrist.”
