Page 2 of Bratva Beast

“Isabella?”

His voice is low and deep, reminding me I’m safe. “No one will hurt you again. My father made a promise to your father, and he keeps his promises. We should have checked on you and your mother. When did she bring him home?”

“This one? A couple of days.”

His body stiffens. “This one?”

“Yeah. She’s had dozens. A new guy every couple of days. She’s drinking too much and getting high. I don’t understand why she’s doing this.”

“You’re going to be okay. But I can’t promise your mother will be.”

“I didn’t expect your father to kill the man.”

“He touched you. A promise is sacred. Your father gave his life for mine.”

The vehicle stops abruptly, and he growls at the driver. Telling him to be more careful. He leans into me as the back door opens, slipping his arms around me. His scent envelops me, reminding me of a woody spring rain. “The doctor is here.” He carries me into the house without jostling me. He takes me up the stairs and sets me on the bed in the third bedroom down the hall. My icy legs ache, and goosebumps pop up along my body, reminding me of the fear I felt just a half hour before. I whimper, reaching for the bedspread.

“What can I do?”

I shrug. “I can’t remember your name.”

“Cynric.”

“I should remember that.” Our families saw each other regularly before my father died.

“You’ve got a concussion.” He grits his teeth, glancing at my bare legs. “I’ll get you some clean clothes.”

A stunning redhead walks into the room. Her long hair is a slightly richer color than my own. She carries a small black bag and moves with a confidence that seems so foreign to me.

“Hi, Isabella. I’m Dr. Mitchell.”

I lift my head to acknowledge her and my eyes squint, deepening my headache. “Hi.”

She shakes her head as Cynric steps back into the room. He sets the clothes on the end of the bed.

Dr. Mitchell flicks her head to the door. “I’ll come out and talk to you when I’m done.” He crosses his arms, staring at the beautiful woman. Her mouth twitches as he rolls his eyes and steps out of the room. She turns her attention to me. “I’m so sorry. Can you tell me what happened?”

“My mother’s… Her latest fuck buddy beat me. He was going to rape me, but got too busy with beating me up.”

She pulls out a small, thin flashlight. “Follow the light.” She shines the light into my eyes.

“That hurts.”

She nods. “I can imagine. He did a number on you. Mikhail won’t be happy, but you’ve got to get a CT.” She looks down at my bloody t-shirt. “Did he sexually assault you?”

I shake my head. “He grabbed me, kicked me, hit me, and split my lip. My head feels like someone has it in a vise.”

“That’s to be expected. You have a concussion. I need to screen for a brain bleed, so you’ll be coming with me to the hospital.”

I glance down at the stack of clothes. “No one is going to like that.”

“True, but it has to be done.” She hands me the clothing. “Put on the pants.”

I shake my head. “The shirt is long. I hurt too much to put those on.”

She steps to and opens the door, finding Cynric with his arms crossed and his typical angry scowl. “She has to go to the hospital. She needs a CT.”

He grumbles in Russian. Something about if he wasn’t dead already, he’d kill him. Cynric looks around the doctor. “Fine.” He steps into the room and moves toward the bed. Scowling, he looks at my bare legs. He grabs a pair of pants and a clean shirt and hands it to the doctor. “I’ll step out. You dress her.”

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