Page 9 of Prince of Wrath

Cole does a home run in the opposite direction, my bullet finding the wall instead of him as he disappears from the hallway into another door; that must be one of the secret passages Alfie told me about. And with no reception here, there is no way to tell anyone about it.

“Ella? Ella?” Her head is down, right against my chest, her hair covering her back as I sweep it aside carefully, uncovering a river of blood. Unresponsive, she does not move or look at me, and my mind is playing evil tricks, telling me that it’s over. There’s so much blood. What have I done ? Is she…is she… Looking down at the second skin of blood she is wearing, I inspect every inch of her until my eyes catch the graze of a bullet, right there, below the V he branded her with, tearing her flesh on the upper arm, right beneath the shoulder. I freeze, relieved and destroyed in the same breath. It was close. Too close. My world stops spinning, my whole life playing like a movie in my head. I stop registering anything other than her and hold my own breath as I wait for four seconds, checking that she does, indeed, breathe. It seems that Cole’s bullet only grazed her skin. Between fear and the lack of care she received these last days, she must have blacked out as she was falling.

“El…Ella,” I choke out, kissing her hair. “I’m getting you out, baby. I’m…I’m getting you home.”

* * *

Everything spins as I run up five flights of stairs with my woman in my arms. My ribs are killing me and my arms can no longer feel, but I keep going.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay,” I manage, out of air, running, mindlessly murmuring into her hair and kissing it after each sentence. “I’m getting you out. You’ve been so brave, Ella. Hold on, just hold on. It’s gonna be okay.”

Matt pushes the last door open, leading us to our car.

“Aargh.” Sitting with Ella on my lap, a snap shakes my core. There is definitely something broken in there. Whatever it is, it will have to wait. Matt comes closer, keeping his distance while ignoring Ella’s obvious vulnerability and nakedness, eyes on the wound.

“Clean shot. Needs stitches. Let’s go.” Sliding behind the wheel, he grunts, “What happened to the rat?”

“Escaped,” I seethe, the shadow of violence still lurking above us now more than ever. The V branded on her shoulder, under the gunshot wound, still fresh and making me want to go now, find him, and end him. But Ella needs me. And I need her. It seems that being apart is our Achilles’ heel.

Morning dust levitates, the engine turning on as I hold Ella against my chest, sitting in the back seat while Matt rushes us to the best hospital in town.

“Are you guys okay?” Alfie asks, coming back to us through my earplugs. My eyes land on Ella, her nose brushing my jacket, her skin too pale, her features so delicate and yet resembling those of a Greek goddess.

“No,” I let out, neither shouting nor murmuring, just stating the fact that none of this is okay. My fingers shake above her face as I caress her skin, then I remove my jacket the best way I can while holding her. I cover her body as much as possible in this freaking cold morning, hiding her skin from prying eyes.

It should have never happened. This is all my fault. She would have never been in this position if we were not…

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back whatever is trying to push through. But all I can do is tell her promises I will die trying to make happen, murmuring against her hair.

I’m so sorry, Ella.

Please forgive me.

I will fix everything.

I promise.

Chapter Three

Tristan

She refuses to see me. Four days since they took her behind those hospital doors, and I have not been allowed past the hallway. Her doctor says she’s stable, eating, resting. That she needs time. I tried to see her anyway, but security escorted me out because I am not… family. They told me she is afraid of being seen. Afraid of the weight she lost, the bruises, the scar on her shoulder. As if any of that could change what she is to me. I saw her that day. I saw the blood, the bones under her skin, the mark they burned into her. I saw all of it. And I still wanted to hold her. Feed her. Sit by her bed and make sure no one touched her again without permission.

I'm waiting but it’s killing me.

She is alive but she won’t see me.

Life has lost all color.

Ella

I’m living in a constant state of…blur. White room, white coats, and the relentless beep of a machine. Am I floating? For how long? I do not know, but all I can think of is a guardian angel far away, his voice near and yet so far. I heard Tristan wanted to see me, but when the nurse came to help me wash and made me stand in front of the cold hospital bathroom, I almost collapsed.

Who is this girl in the mirror?

Skin and bones, under-eyes darker than charcoal, hair sticky and black, like ink diluted and kept doing so. The bones of my shoulders protrude, the V branded on my shoulder reminding me of the shame I will forever carry, and my ribs, frail and visible, like a cage, are impossible not to see. A reminder of the lack of food and comfort and life and hope. A reminder of the weakness I let out when I believed he would never find me. My body is living proof of my broken mind, of the private betrayals of myself losing hope too soon, being too weak, letting the dark convince me it had already won.

He cannot see me in this state. Anyone sane would run away from a barely walking cadaver. I cannot see you, Tristan, I want to tell him.