Page 73 of Ruined By Blood
The walk to Sienna's room feels longer than usual, my body finally admitting the punishment it's taken. I balance the tray on one arm to open her door, slipping inside quietly.
The room is dim, just the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating her sleeping form. Sienna lies curled on her side, her hair spilling across the pillow. In sleep, the tension has left her face, making her look impossibly young and vulnerable. The bruise from Jackson's strike has darkened along her cheekbone.
I place the tray on the dresser, careful not to make noise. Watching her breathe.
My gaze traces the delicate line of her throat, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Even marked by that bastard's hand, she looks peaceful for the first time since I found her.
My fists clench involuntarily, fingernails digging into my palms until the sharp pain brings focus. Violence won't help her right now.
I watch Sienna stir, her eyelashes fluttering against hercheek. Her eyes open slowly, unfocused at first, then widening as she registers my presence.
"You're still here," she whispers, voice raspy from sleep.
"I brought food." I gesture to the tray. "Ettore's soup. Guaranteed to make you feel human again."
She pushes herself up, wincing slightly. I move to help but stop myself, giving her space to find her own balance. When she glances at the tray, something in her expression shifts.
"Two bowls?"
"I thought you might want company."
A small smile touches her lips. "Thank you."
I bring the tray over as she adjusts the pillows behind her back. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the warmth of the soup filling the space between us. I watch her hands grip the spoon, steadier now than earlier.
"Enzo?" She sets her spoon down, eyes meeting mine. "Is there anything I can do to help? With what happens next, I mean."
The question catches me off guard. Of all the things I expected her to say, offering help wasn't one of them.
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. I soften my tone. "No, piccola. This isn't something you need to involve yourself in."
Her brow furrows. "But it's about me."
"Exactly why you stay clear of it." I set my bowl down. "You've been through enough. Your job now is to heal."
"But—"
"There's no discussion here, Sienna." I stand, needing distance from the determination in her eyes. "These men have hurt you enough. I'm not giving them another chance."
She looks away, fingers twisting in the bedsheet. I cansee the frustration in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself rigid against the pillows.
"I should let you rest," I say, taking the tray.
I head for the door, my hand on the knob when something catches my eye. The vase of fresh flowers Ginerva placed earlier sits on the dresser—roses in full bloom. I pause, looking back at Sienna's downcast face.
"Wait here."
I set the tray down and step out, returning moments later with a single rose plucked from the arrangement. The deep crimson petals are fully open, rich with scent.
Sienna looks up, confusion replacing her disappointment as I approach the bed. I hold the rose out, twirling it slowly between my fingers.
"What's this?" she asks, eyeing the flower with suspicion.
"What does it look like?"
Her eyes narrow. "Is that... for me?"
I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "No, it's for someone else. I just thought you'd like to see it first."
