He caps the bottle and drops it to the floor before sitting beside me. Large hands wrap my wrists, his touch warm and welcoming, even as he forces my hands from my face, nails from clawing my cheeks.
“You did, Fina. You did good.”
“I couldn’t fight,” I repeat with a shake of my head. “That wasn’tgoodby any stretch of the word.”
“You were drugged. You could have only done so much.”
“I called you.”
“You did.” He squeezes my hands in acknowledgment. “When I got there, your dress was ripped, and he wasn’t insideyou. Still, I have to know…” He glances down at my lap, his touch no longer as warm. “Was there anything? A finger, even?”
As memories of last night continue to clear, I shake my head. “He was busy undoing his belt when you showed up.”
With my statement, he breathes again, a full-body breath that decompresses his spine, revealing how much stress he was clinging to. “Positive? I can get you a doctor.”
“I promise, Lev. I’m alright.” Physically.
“Your dress was ripped,” he restates, like he’s working through a pre-planned speech. “After dealing with him, I dressed you in my shirt to get you back here.”
“To your bed.” There’s a question in there I hope he recognizes.
Lev slowly releases my hands, folding his together, drawing my attention to the cuts on his knuckles, dried blood caking his skin. He’s staring above my head, at the window, when he speaks, his voice scraping against hidden emotions. “You’ve been the exception to that rule twice now. People don’t sleep in my bed; they don’t come into my space. You scared me, Fina, like I’ve never felt fear before.” He ducks his head, his eyes—a black storm—clashing with mine. “Never,” he repeats with a whisper so softly, I read it from his lips more than hear it. “I’m sorry.”
“You’resorry? Lev—” Unable to stop myself, I rest my palm on his lower arm. “Yousaved me.”
“You shouldn’t have been out of my sight.”
“That place was insane. People were everywhere.”
“Still. I’m a shitty guard. As shitty as the two you had when you got kidnapped. You’re going to need an army at this point.”
“It’s not your fault. You were instructed to let me do what I want, to not intervene. That’s what happened.”
He stares like a ghost of the man I’ve come to know. More arguments are etched in his expression, but with a long blink, he instead asks, “That was your boyfriend, wasn’t it?”
“Ex,” I clarify in a firm tone, “butsì.”
“What’s his name?” The last time he asked, I didn’t reply, feeling it was no one’s business, but after last night, all cards need to be displayed. Alessio can’t get away with what he tried.
“Alessio.” Lev looks away, rolling his jaw together. “What did you do to him?”
He glances to where his phone sits beside the knife he was fiddling with. “Can you handle blood?”
“I handled yours.”
His lips purse before he retrieves his phone and flashing a picture my way. There’s a lot of blood, making distinguishing the figure difficult. It’s Alessio, blissfully bloodied and beaten, a better image than the ones filling my head.
“He’s alive. Unfortunately.”
Sucks.
“He said something.” Seeing Alessio pushes through more of the fog. “When he drugged me, he claimed I washis. That he’s doing this so some deal can’t be contested, but I don’t know what he meant.”
Lev looks away, and it all comes crashing down.
“You know something.”
“It’s not my place to say.”
