Page 68 of Ruined By Blood
I remember how he struggled against his restraints when Jackson hit me, fighting so hard the ropes cut into his skin. Blood had been running down his arms, but he hadn't seemed to notice or care.
"Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for what he did—what he risked. "For trying to protect me."
Enzo watches me for a long moment. Then he moves toward me, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps.
When he reaches me, his hands come up to frame my face, careful to avoid the bruise blooming on my cheek.
"I'm sorry," he says, voice raw with emotion. "I'm so fucking sorry they got to you. I should have been more careful, should have had more security. This shouldn't have happened to you."
Before I can respond, he leans down and presses his lips against mine. The kiss is desperate, almost pleading, and nothing like our playful kisses during truth or dare. This one tastes of guilt and fear.
I freeze for a heartbeat before melting into him, my hands clutching at his shirt. His warmth surrounds me, making me feel safe in a way that defies logic. When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged.
"Sienna," he says, resting his forehead against mine. "I need to know what's happening. All of it. No more half-truths. I can't protect you if I don't know what I'm fighting against."
I take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of my secrets pressing down. "You won't look at me the same after I tell you."
His fingers tighten slightly on my face. "Try me."
Looking into his eyes, I see nothing but fierce determination.
"Okay," I whisper. "I'll tell you everything."
He leads me to the small sofa by the window, keeping a respectful distance once we sit, though close enough that I can feel his warmth. I stare down at my hands for several minutes, gathering my thoughts, trying to find words for things I've never spoken aloud.
Finally, I take a deep breath and look up at him.
"I was fourteen when Henry told me that from now on I would bring money to the family."
My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "It was a Tuesday night. I remember because I had a history test the next day that I'd been studying for all week."
I twist my fingers together, trying to keep them from shaking. The memory rises up, visceral and suffocating, bringing with it the scent of overcooked steak and red wine.
"Henry had the cook prepare dinner for the three of us. Me, him, and my mother. It was unusual. We rarely ate together." The words feel like glass in my throat. "My mother looked nervous the whole time, kept shooting these worried glances at him."
Enzo sits perfectly still beside me, his breathing controlled and even. I can feel the tension radiating from him, but he doesn't interrupt.
"After dessert, Henry poured himself more wine and told me that some of his business associates had expressed interest in my company." The last word tastes bitter on my tongue. "He said they were willing to pay well for the privilege of spending time with me."
My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I blink rapidly to clear them.
"I didn't understand what he meant at first. I thoughtmaybe they wanted me to attend some function or dinner, like a decoration on their arm." I let out a humorless laugh. "I was so naive."
I risk a glance at Enzo. His face is carved from stone, jaw clenched tight enough that I can see a muscle ticking in his cheek.
"My mother understood immediately. She started yelling at him, screaming that I was just a child, his daughter." I close my eyes, the memory so vivid I can almost hear her voice. "She knocked over her wine glass. Red everywhere, like blood on the white tablecloth."
My hands compress into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms.
"Henry stood up very slowly. He never rushed when he was angry. That's how you knew it was bad—when he got quieter, slower." I swallow hard. "He walked around the table to where she was standing. And then he hit her."
The sharp crack of palm against cheek echoes in my memory.
"Not a slap. A full punch that knocked her to the floor. I'd never seen him hit her before, not like that." My voice breaks. "There was blood coming from her mouth. She looked at me, tried to reach for me, but he stepped on her hand."
The phantom sound of bones crushing makes me flinch.
"He told her that I was his property, just like she was. That he'd invested years raising me, and it was time for me to start paying dividends." My stomach churns. "He said if she interfered again, he'd have her committed somewhere where she'd never see daylight. Then he told her to clean herself up because she looked disgusting."
