I shifted, burying my face in her neck and breathing in what remained of her. Of the scent that was so impossible to replicate, that nobody else would ever achieve. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” I whispered, her skin growing wet as my tears soaked her. The dried blood staining her body washed away, leaving pink streaks as I pulled her body closer.
And I wept.
For all that I’d lost. For all that I hadn’t appreciated while I had it. For the woman the world needed and the light that was now gone.
For the fact that I’d lost my only chance to be whole again.
Enzo barreled into the end of the driveway at the Bellandi Estate, the guards rushing to get the gates open when he didn’t bother to hit the brakes. He blew through, taking the corner so fast that Irina and I shifted along the seat.
Still, there was nothing from her, no reaction to the overwhelming pain that must have shot up her leg when her foot knocked against the door. As soon as the car stopped, Enzo was out and tearing the door open.
I maneuvered Irina out into his grip, letting him take her for the moment it took me to climb out of the seat. He handed her back the second I was free, running behind me as I took the front steps three at a time with her in my arms.
The front door was open as we approached, Ivory’s tear-stained face meeting me as she covered her mouth with her hands.
“Where’s the doctor?” I demanded, not bothering to greet her or acknowledge what I saw written on her face.
We were too late.
Irina’s head hung back at an unnatural angle as I stepped into the living room I’d destroyed. “Second guest room on the left,” Ivory said, pointing to the stairs. I took the winding staircase as quickly as I could, skipping an odd number of steps as I raced up.
I was only vaguely aware of Enzo talking to the girls, who watched from the entry to the kitchen as I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and strode to the bedroom Ivory had indicated.
“Get her on the bed,” the doctor said. I did as ordered, placing her gently so that her head rested on the pillows. “Fucking Christ.”
Doc moved toward her, placing his stethoscope in his ears and leaning forward to touch it to her chest. He paused, waiting in absolute silence as he listened.
What remained of my heart leapt into my throat, everything inside me tightening while I waited.
He turned to me, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’s alive,” he said, going to his bag on the chair.
I fell, my knees giving out beneath me at the side of the bed. I dropped to the floor, the thud echoing through my body as the overwhelming relief of her being alive claimed me.
Ivory sobbed as she stepped up next to me, lowering herself to her knees at my side as I rested my forehead against the mattress.
For the first time in my life, I wished I believed in God. I wished there was someone I could pray to, to fix my broken butterfly.
“She’s going to be okay,” Ivory said, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
“Look at her!” I yelled. “She will never be okay after what they did to her!”
Ivory’s eyes fell on the wounds in Irina’s stomach. On the carvings in her skin that labeled her as something that she would never be.
“She’ll get through it, because she has you,” Ivory whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder despite the way my body vibrated with my rage.
I hadn’t been enough before all this. Hadn’t been able to give her what she needed and what she deserved then.
How the fuck was I supposed to do that now?
32
IRINA
Light pressed at my eyelids.
With the disorientation of the first stirrings of my mind, I smiled faintly. Basking in the warmth of the after, taking pleasure in those moments before the pain hit.
It came in a flood, a tidal wave crashing over my head and threatening to drown me. It stole the breath from my lungs, ripping a strangled groan from my throat. “She’s waking up,” a feminine voice said, delicate fingers squeezing around my hand.
“We need to get her cleaned up,” a man said. “I need to see what I’m dealing with better.”
“Irina, open your eyes, honey,” the woman said, squeezing gently again. They fluttered open in response, finding Ivory staring down at me. She smiled, her face turning toward the man who stood next to her.
Scar’s dark eyes met mine, his hand holding a cool cloth to my forehead. He smiled when I looked at him, his face wet and eyes relieved. He touched a bottle of water to my mouth, frowning when I turned my head away. “Hey, Butterfly,” he murmured, tossing the cloth and bottle to the floor behind him. “We’re going to take you in and wash you up, okay?”
He slid his arms beneath my body on the mattress, lifting me off the soft surface. As my body and limbs curled around his and the pressure shifted, I felt my eyes burn with the threat of tears.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, touching the side of his head to mine as he moved into the bathroom. Ivory walked ahead of us, turning on the shower. She tested it while Scar set me on the closed toilet and stripped down to his briefs. Ivory glanced over at him in surprise, but looked away to give him privacy when his hand went for the belt at his waist.
Once the shower was the right temperature, Scar picked me up and stepped into the shower. I winced the moment the warmth touched me, chasing back the chill to my skin, and used my good arm to grab at the wall of the shower.
It hurt, the water turning pink with blood as it enveloped me. “Hurts,” I rasped, my throat clenching around the words with dryness and an ache.
“I know,” Scar said, as the dirt and grime were washed away, leaving my skin to breathe for the first time as the blood rinsed off.
“There she is,” Scar said, looking down at me with a smile I knew wasn’t genuine. There was nothing left in me of the woman he’d known. Nothing left of the woman who’d worn red lipstick and pretended to be confident enough to take on the world.
I wished that I was in the tub, and that he and Ivory would leave so I could sink beneath the water and let it fill my lungs. It would hurt less than the water stinging the wounds on my stomach, making me feel like someone had reached a hand inside and torn out my organs.
Scar moved efficiently, running the cloth over my neck and shoulders. By the time he washed the dried blood away from the edges of the words etched into my stomach, I wanted to scream. I trembled with the urge, holding it back with closed eyes and whimpers that seemed too loud in a room filled with only the sound of running water.
Scar finished cleaning me, wiping every trace of blood from my body to the best of his ability. Ivory supported me as he got out, drying himself off before he reached in and pulled me out of the water. He didn’t bother to change his briefs, setting me on the toilet again so that he could dry me efficiently.
His efforts were wasted as the worst of the wounds on my stomach and from my leg leaked fresh blood. He wrapped the towel around me, lifting me into his arms as I sank into the numbness that came on the heels of the pain.
Living in that place where I couldn’t feel seemed like a blessing, and I cursed every time I’d cut myself. Every time I hadn’t appreciated the beauty of feeling nothing.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again.