Page 63 of Ruined By Blood
"No stitches," I interrupt. "Just clean it and bandage it."
Romano sighs. "Fine. Butterfly closures will work, but it'll leave a nastier scar."
"Add it to the collection," I say.
He works quickly, applying adhesive strips to pull the wound closed before covering it with gauze and taping it securely.
"Change the dressing twice daily," he instructs. "Watch for infection. Heat, increased pain, redness spreading outward. And try not to tear it open again with any heroics."
I stand as soon as he finishes, testing the range of motion. It hurts, but it won't slow me down.
"We're done here," I tell him, reaching for a clean shirt from the dresser. "Go check on Sienna. She took a couple hits to the face."
Romano packs his supplies efficiently. "What about the head wound?" he asks, nodding toward my temple where dried blood has matted my hair.
"Just a graze from a pistol. Nothing broken," I say, touching it briefly. "Sienna's the priority."
"Always the tough guy," Romano mutters, but he picks up his bag. "I'll look in on her. You should rest, but I know you won't."
"Smart man." I pull the fresh shirt over my head, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at the bandaged wound.
The moment Romano leaves, I head for Damiano's room. We need to talk. The clock is ticking, and we need a more permanent solution than just reacting.
I pause outside Damiano's door, taking a deep breath to center myself. The rage still simmers under my skin, but I need a clear head now. Strategy, not emotion. But the image of Sienna crumpled on that floor, naked and terrified, makes my blood boil all over again.
I knock once, then push the door open.
I stride into Damiano's room, finding him standing by the window. He doesn't turn immediately, but I see the tension in his shoulders.
"How's your side?" he asks without looking at me.
"Fine." I dismiss his concern with a wave. "Nothing Romano couldn't patch up."
Damiano finally faces me, his eyes searching mine. "Do you know what we're dealing with here, Enzo? Really dealing with?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implication.
"I think I do." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Sterling's selling her to Cortez. That much we already knew. But it's worse than that."
I move to the leather chair near the fireplace and sink into it, the pain in my side flaring. "The guy who was running the operation said some things. He knew about something that Sienna hasn't told me until now. And Cortez isn't just looking to buy her for a night. From what he said, this is a permanent arrangement. A fucking ownership transfer."
"Human trafficking." Damiano names it plainly, his voice cold.
"His own daughter." I can't keep the disgust from my tone. "And she's been enduring this for years. Since she was fourteen, at least. That's what she told me."
I lean forward, ignoring the pull of the bandage. "But there's something else. Something she's not telling me. Ithink Sterling's been doing more than just selling her to Cortez or knowing that some men put their hands on her."
Damiano walks to his desk, his movements measured and controlled—the calm before a storm. "And now we've interfered with his business. Not just any business, but human trafficking. His own flesh and blood."
"He'll come for her," I say, stating the obvious. "And he'll come hard."
"We knew that when we brought her here." Damiano's voice is resolute. "But we should be clear about what we're getting into. This isn't just about protecting a woman who got beaten on our territory anymore. This is declaring war on Sterling."
I meet his gaze without hesitation. "I know."
"Are you prepared for that? For what it means for all of us?" He's not just asking as my brother now, but as the head of our family. As Don.
The image of Sienna's tears flashes through my mind.
