Page 60 of Ruined By Blood
Jackson laughs, but it sounds hollow now, edged with nervousness. "Look at you, Feretti. All worked up over Sterling's broken toy." He grabs my chin, fingers digging painfully into the spot he just struck.
The blow connects with my temple, harder than the first. Pain explodes through my skull like shattered glass. The room spins violently, darkness rushing in from the edges of my vision.
I hear Enzo's voice, distant now, a stream of curses and threats. My legs give way beneath me. The towel slips from my grasp as I fall, my body suddenly too heavy to control.
My cheek connects with the hardwood floor, but I barely feel it. Behind me, sounds blur together. Shouting, the scraping of furniture, a thud like someone falling.
I try to focus on Enzo, to see if he's managed to free himself, but my eyelids are too heavy to keep open. The darkness spreads, consuming everything.
The last thing I hear is Enzo calling my name, desperation in his voice, before consciousness slips away entirely.
CHAPTER 22
Pain explodes through my skull, dragging me back to consciousness like a hook through murky water. My cheek throbs where Jackson struck me, and the cold floor presses against my bare skin. I fight to peel my eyes open, everything distorted and swimming.
Chaos erupts around me. Grunts. Thuds. The unmistakable crack of bone meeting bone.
I blink away the fog to see Enzo somehow freed from his restraints, driving his fist into Jackson's face with relentless brutality. Blood sprays from Jackson's nose and mouth as Enzo slams him against the wall, one hand gripping his throat while the other continues its assault. Jackson's face is barely recognizable, a pulpy mess of crimson andswelling flesh.
"I warned you," Enzo snarls, voice dropped to a register I've never heard before. Each word punctuated with another punch. "You put your fucking hands on her."
Across the room, Alessio stands over a motionless body, gun still raised, his expression coldly professional. The man's unseeing eyes stare at the ceiling, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. Another of Jackson's men lies crumpled in the corner, chest still but eyes open in permanent shock.
I struggle to sit up, clutching the towel that barely covers me. My vision blurs again, and I feel myself sway.
"Easy." A calm voice beside me. Damiano crouches down. "Are you hurt beyond what we can see, Sienna?"
I try to answer but my mouth feels stuffed with cotton. The metallic taste of blood coats my tongue where I bit my cheek during Jackson's assault.
"I'm..." My voice cracks. "I'm okay."
Damiano's dark eyes assess me with clinical precision, checking for injuries beyond the obvious bruising on my face. I've seen that same assessment in my father's eyes a thousand times, but where Henry's gaze made me feel like merchandise being appraised, Damiano's holds concern wrapped in steel.
"Sienna." My name falls from Enzo's lips like a prayer as he drops to his knees beside me. Despite the violence I just witnessed from those same hands, they're infinitely gentle as they cup my face. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, carefully avoiding the bruising. I can see blood seeping through his shirt where he took a hit, and rope burns around his wrists have left raw, bleeding marks. Yet he shows no sign of his own pain as he pulls me against his chest.
"You're safe now," he murmurs against my hair. "I've got you."
I find myself sinking into his embrace, my fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if he's the only solid thing in a world gone mad.
The steady rhythm of Enzo's heartbeat against my ear grounds me in reality. His arms form a protective cage around me, and for a moment, I let myself believe I'm truly safe.
"We need to move." Damiano's voice cuts through the momentary peace. "Now."
Enzo pulls back slightly but keeps one arm around my shoulders. His free hand brushes hair from my face with surprising tenderness.
"We should go back to the main house," Damiano says, his voice leaving no room for disagreement. "All our men are in position. They're watching the house with Zoe and Lucrezia there."
Enzo nods, then turns to me. "Can you stand?"
I try to push myself up, but my legs wobble like a newborn colt's. Enzo steadies me, his touch careful as if I might shatter. The towel slips, and I clutch it tighter, suddenly aware of my near-nakedness in a room full of men.
"Let me get you some clothes," he says softly.
He leaves for just a moment, returning with a t-shirt and sweatpants. The others turn away as he helps me dress, his movements efficient but respectful.
"Alessio, clean this mess up," Damiano orders. "Call Noah for backup. Make it look like they were never here."
