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“I’m here, little rabbit. You are safe. I won’t leave you.”
Her murmuring slowly fades away and her body stops shaking. I hold her for ages, unable to let her go. I stare down at her closed eyes, framed by gorgeous, long dark lashes.
Not for the first time, I feel a familiar fear creep into my thoughts.
What if none of this is real?
What if she was placed there by my enemies? Maybe that container was a trap, a lure. It was never supposed to be on our territory anyway. The fact that it was there is enough to draw up these suspicious thoughts. What if she is working for them? They might have planted her there, as a way to get inside our organization, a way to get information.
They know we are dead set against the business that they do. They know we would not have just left her there.
Despite what I feel for her, the need to protect her, I have to acknowledge, somewhere deep inside me, that she could be a trap.
Even with the risk of that being real, though, I know that she has been through absolute hell. Even if she has been planted here to gather information it is not something she would have chosen. The only way she would have agreed to this is out of fear. A threat of some kind against her family or someone she loves. People do crazy things to protect the ones they love, and she might have found herself in a situation where she simply had no choice. That would make her dangerous. People who are willing to sacrifice themselves and their safety, to endure torture, to keep their loved ones safe—they are dangerous.
“Are you dangerous, little rabbit?” I stare down at her beautiful face.
She doesn’t look dangerous, but I saw what she is capable of. I saw a strength in her that was mind-blowing. I am in awe of her resilience.
I will just have to be patient and careful. I will have to watch her closely when she eventually wakes up.
There is a soft knock on the bedroom door and one of my men is standing in the doorway.
“Kiril, the doctor has arrived. Can we let him in?”
I carefully lower her head back onto the pillow and pull the blanket over her body again.
“Yes, you can let him in,” I say without taking my eyes off her.
A few moments later the doctor arrives carrying his medical bag.
“Kiril, how is she today? Any change?” He sets his things on the dresser near the window and starts taking out clean bandages.
“Nothing. She’s still having fitful episodes, she’s still talking a little in her sleep, but nothing has changed.”
He walks over to the side of the bed and, reluctantly, I move out of the way so that he can reach her. I stand at the foot of the bed watching every movement he makes.
He folds the blanket off her and straightens her body. His hand is on her thigh, near the large wound that he stitched up. I don’t like to see him touching her, but I know he is only helping.
He carefully removes the bandages, already soaked with blood, pulling away the tape that held them in place to reveal a neat line of stitches.
I watch as he swabs cotton in a disinfectant cream and cleans the area, then begins to do the same on her stomach. The rise and fall of her chest tells me she has no idea of anything that is happening in the world around her.
He dabs at the two stitches beneath her eye and says, “She’s lucky that this one is so small. When it’s healed, the scar will be barely visible. I see that the bruising on her face is coming down nicely. I just can’t—d”
He swallows hard and shakes his head.
“Can’t what?” I ask. “Is something wrong?”
“No, sorry. I just can’t believe what she has been through. I’ve seen a lot in my life. She did not deserve this.”
He stands up. “Those bandages should be left on for another two days and then after that, we can leave her wounds open to heal. The stitches are looking good and the cuts are closing up nicely.”
He reaches across and pulls the blanket back over her bruised body.
“I’ll stop in again tomorrow, and if anything happens, you have my number.”
“You aren’t going to give her another injection?” I ask curiously.
