by Elle Rease
Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “What does that mean?” Brennan choked out.
“We can’t say for sure until all the swelling has gone down, but it could mean that future pregnancies will be very tricky or even impossible. She’ll have to come for regular check-ups during the next year so we can monitor the way her organs heal.”
A guttural groan escaped his throat and he collapsed on his chair. His body was shivering violently and he felt sick to his stomach. He hardly noticed his mother’s comforting hand on his shoulder and he certainly couldn’t hear what Jemma was saying: it was just distant, nonsensical rumbling to him.
Cinnia lost the baby she’d surprised him with earlier this evening; the one she was so excited to have; the one he hadn’t even been aware she’d wanted. He had still been under the impression that she was on the Pill.
To top it all off, they might never have children. This will break her even worse than those men have.
“Bren.”
His eyes met his mother’s. He felt bleak and drained. He can never forgive himself for not keeping Cinnia safe and for leaving her at that bachelorette’s party when all he’d wanted to do was take her home. He could’ve prevented all of this. Murdering that asshole and his accomplices won’t bring his unborn child back.
“Oh, Bren,” Mysie whispered brokenly, holding him tightly. “Oh, my boy, I’m so sorry.”
He wasn’t sure for how long he allowed his mother to stroke his hair and ease his mind, but it was enough time for him to reminisce over every memory he had of Cinnia. From the first day they’d met and how he’d watched her kick that soccer ball around like the awkward, gangly girl she had been, to her first day at high school. His brain jumped forward to when she’d found out about him and Dawn.
He had been waiting on his Harley when the school bell rang. He’d endured the flirty looks some of the girls had sent, as well as the fear from the boys. None of that had mattered to him: his eyes had been fixed on the main entrance, waiting for his love to appear.
Brennan had found it odd that Dawn wasn’t accompanying Cinnia, but he’d figured that there was a reasonable explanation. He’d waved at Cinnia, startled when she just glared and walked right past him. He had stared at her posterior and briefly thought: God, she has an amazing ass. Can’t wait to fuck her.
Only once she had disappeared in the crowd had he remembered her rebuff. Leaving his bike where it stood, he had rushed after her, grabbing her elbow to swing her around. “Where are you going?” he’d demanded.
“Away from you,” she’d spat as she jerked out of his grip. “You don’t have to pick me up from school anymore. We’re over.”
His whole world had crashed and burned at his feet. “What the hell are you on about?”
“Don’t act as if you don’t know, asshole. I never want to see you again.”
“Cin, what’s got into you?”
She’d laughed at him, although there were tears in her eyes. “Definitely not you, thank God!”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Did you do…” She’d carried on cackling hysterically, attracting the attention of everyone around them. “You’re unbelievable! You won’t even admit that you fucked my best friend! Just what kind of man are you?”
He’d felt the blood drain from his face. He had reached for her as he said: “Lass, I can explain—”
Cinnia had dodged his grasp. “You don’t have to explain shit to me anymore, Brennan Drummond. I’m not your girlfriend.”
And she’d stormed off, leaving him behind with his hands in his hair. So many emotions had whirled inside him: anger at whoever for spilling his secret, disappointment for the way he’d hurt Cinnia, heartbreak from her words… He’d been at a loss.
Yet she had come back and forgiven his transgressions. They’ve built a life together, the one he has always dreamed of. He’d devoted his every breath to getting to know her all over again. He had apologized whenever he was wrong, something he’s never done before, and had allowed her to call him a softie. He’d basked in her love, in the way he could make her scream by using his mouth, fingers and cock.
Despite all of that, he was at a loss, yet again. How will they survive this?
“Baby,” his mother said, bringing him back to the present, away from his morbid thoughts. “You’ve got to talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.” He coughed to hide the crack in his voice and pulled out of her embrace. “I don’t even know what to think.”
“This isn’t the end, Bren.”
“Isn’t it? How will she ever forgive me?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He rubbed his eyes. “But—”
“Before you say anything you’ll regret, think it through,” Haye said from across Brennan. “Remember what we spoke about earlier, Bren. What’s the only thing you’ve ever cared about?”
“Cin.”
“Then that’s all that matters. She’s all that matters.”
Brennan closed his eyes and nodded. “You’re right.”
“Bren?”
He glanced at the door and held his breath once he recognized Jemma. “Yes?”
“You can see her now. The anesthesia is still lifting, so she might be sleeping for a while yet, but you can sit with her if you like.”
This is it, he thought as he got to his feet. He followed his friend down a few hallways, coming to a halt outside a private room. “Is she… Will she…?”
Jemma cracked a smile and hugged him. “She’s going to be fine. She’s out of the danger zone.”
“Thanks, Jem. I know this is hard on you.”
“It’s better now that she’s out. We can all rest easy.” Jemma wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped away. “Come on, wash your hands so you can go inside.”
He carried out her instructions before walking over the threshold to Cinnia’s bedside. She was hooked up to oxygen and her nose was covered with a few layers of gauze. He couldn’t see her wrist, since the covers were pulled up to her chin. Her face had a couple of places where surgical tape closed over cuts, while the rest of her skin was bruised and swollen.
Looking at her now, he wished that he’d tortured those sons of bitches for what they’ve done to her. It would’ve made him feel better, knowing that they had suffered before they died. How could he have allowed Haye and his father to talk him into quick, merciful deaths?
He was shaking, filled with the need to injure someone. He wanted to shatter their knee caps, to hear their agonized shouts for help. He wanted to smash their heads to a pulp. He wanted to crack their chests open and rip their fucking hearts out.
Was it so wrong to crave vengeance? An eye for an eye?
“Bren.”
A garbled whisper has never sounded like the angels singing, until now. With that one word, he was saved from his dangerous temper and worries about their relationship. She was the sun and he orbited around her, worshipped her.
He burst into tears, falling to his knees at her bedside. She was alive and safe. He wasn’t going to lose her. For some reason, the gods have decided that he deserved a break, that they will grant him the only thing he’s ever wanted more than life itself.
The center of his universe was going to be around to become his wife. She’ll be safe, happy and loved. He’ll make sure of it or die trying.
Chapter Seventeen
When she’d woken up in the hospital to Brennan looking ready to commit murder, the memories of those assholes beating the shit out of her had flashed before her eyes. She had fought against a full-on panic attack, realizing that she was in hospital. Somehow, she’d been saved.
And then her Brennan… Her strong, Dominant fiancé had sagged to the floor and cried, breaking her heart even further. She could only imagine how horrible her appearance must’ve been for him to react so intensely.
She would find out later that Byron had, indeed, prevented her from being raped. She hadn’t hallucinated that part.
She would also be told that she was no longer pregnant and that she had the chance of a snowflake in hell of ever having a biological child.
Sure, the doctor had assured her that her situation may change after she’s healed, but all she had heard was that she was barren. She would never know what it’s like to give birth and raise a kid with Brennan. How could they try to remain optimistic?
She was in ICU for four days, with limited visitors and even more limited visiting hours. She was on a heavy dose of morphine for the pain in her ribs. At the back of her mind, she was grateful for this: it meant that she was asleep most of the time, only waking up when Brennan or her parents popped in to see how she was doing.
Cinnia wasn’t entirely sure of her emotional state. She’d been stalked and attacked by a man who hadn’t given a shit about women. In the process, she had lost her baby. This all on an evening that should’ve been a celebration. A big send-off before she got married.
Was she still getting married? Was Brennan going to stick around?
He looked worse for wear. Gradually, the circles under his eyes got darker and he appeared to be losing weight. She suspected that he was currently living with his parents until she got out of the hospital. She knew that Mysie wouldn’t let her son skip a meal, yet the stress must be impacting his body in a very negative way.
She would’ve told him to take care of himself if she’d had the strength. It was difficult enough keeping her eyes open for extended periods of time.
She felt a bit better once she was moved to a regular ward. Her daily dose of pain killers began dwindling, clearing the heavy fog in her brain. This caused the memories of that night to rush back at full velocity. She became used to waking up screaming, clawing at the sheets. Her doctor suggested a trauma psychologist who came around a few times, but Cinnia wasn’t sure whether the sessions were helping or doing more harm. Talking about it made it real, more so than her injuries.
Broken bones could heal. Will her heart?
A physiotherapist helped her to sit and move in a way that didn’t agitate her injuries too much. Cinnia was amazed by how weak she felt. She could hardly walk a few feet before needing to take a break. It was going to take her months before she’d be ready to work out again and, even then, she wouldn’t be able to pick up her regime where she’d left off. No, her exercises will forever be altered to compensate for her bad wrist and ribs.
Piper stopped by every day and started sitting in on Cinnia’s therapy sessions with Dr. McKauley. The poor girl had such guilt over something she couldn’t possibly have changed. It made them so much closer, having survived this horrible event.
Dawn was careful not to bring Aurora along to the hospital, worried that this would upset Cinnia. Truthfully, Cinnia had no idea how she’d react. Having a baby around might cause a breakdown. Alternately, it might heal this gaping hole in the center of her being, where her own baby used to be. She felt so… empty. She found it hard to be upbeat, even for her friends.
Even for Brennan.
The doctor insisted that Cinnia’s attitude was a result of the stress and the medication, urging her not to worry about it. She didn’t want to let this event rule the rest of her life, to rob her of a happy future, yet she couldn’t plan that far ahead. She worried only about the present moment, about putting one foot in front of the other. About surviving.
Two weeks after the attack—with two weeks to go until the wedding—she was cleared to leave the hospital. She’d lost fifteen pounds and more than a few handfuls of hair. She was pale and gaunt, definitely not looking like someone about to be married to the love of her life.
“Okay,” the doctor said as he checked her chart, “I’m writing you a few prescriptions for the pain and to prevent inflammation or infection. I’ll see you again in a week’s time to see if we can change the cast on your wrist to something lighter.” He snapped her file shut and smiled. “In the meantime, take it easy. If you live in a house with stairs, Brennan will have to move your bed to the ground floor until your ribs have healed. You’ll have to help her get showered and dressed, too.” Here, he raised an eyebrow and looked at them intently. “No sex, got it?”
Cinnia swallowed and stared at her hands. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Brennan’s been acting so strange lately… Now she couldn’t even connect to him in the one way that would put them both on the same page again.
“Got it,” Brennan grumbled.
“Good, then you’re free to go. See you in a week.”
“Bye,” she greeted the doctor. She let her gaze linger on him all the way to the door, acutely aware of Brennan’s perusal of her face. She smoothed out her expression and held her uninjured hand out to her fiancé. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you okay?”
Her nerves were frayed and the distance between them made her snappy. “No, I’m not. I’ve just been told I’m not even allowed to climb the fucking stairs. Plus, my fucking fiancé hasn’t kissed me in…” She bit her lip and shook her head, fighting the tears. “Never mind.”
“Cin—”
“Let’s just go home. I’m sick of this place.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin once his hand rested on her hip, so gently she hardly felt it, while his other hand tilted her chin up. He hasn’t shaved since the attack and his auburn beard fascinated her, made him so sexy she could jump him if she’d had the energy. She swallowed at the look he was giving her: wasn’t she supposed to be the one in pain?
His icy eyes were sad and angry, all at once. She’s never seen him like this, although she imagined he must’ve been this way when she had broken up with him.
“I love you,” he murmured, leaning in. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, lass. I should’ve protected you.”
“Bren—”
He gave her the softest of kisses, careful not to scratch her with his beard or bump against her nose. He merely toyed with her lips and kept the kiss light, when all she really wanted was for him to ravage her, to break down this invisible barrier between them.
“No,” she argued once he pulled away, clutching his shirt. “Brennan, don’t stop.”
“I have to, Cinnia.”
“Why? Because I’m damaged goods? Because—”
“No, because it’s bound to lead to more and the doctor told us we can’t have sex until you’re healed,” he interrupted. He cupped her tender face in his hands and peered into her eyes. “How can you even think that I don’t want you anymore?”
“Look at me,” she sobbed, even though he already was. “I’m broken. Nothing will ever be the same again.”
“Cinnia Sloane, you are deranged.” He cautiously took her in his arms, holding her without applying pressure to her fragile body. “I love you more than life itself. If you’d died, I would’ve, too. I just want to keep you safe while you get better, and that includes protecting you from me. This is going to be a marathon, not a sprint.”
She choked on a laugh and rested her forehead on his chest. “We’re not good at abstaining, though.”
“This time it’s for a valid reason, not just you being all huffy.”
She playfully jabbed him in the ribs and immediately regretted it. The movement caused a painful jolt to travel down the side that had been injured most.
“Lass, you can’t do shit like that,” he growled as he let her go. “If you hurt yourself, I will punish you in a way you won’t enjoy. Do you understand me?”
“Brennan, I can take care of myself.”
“Aye, lass, I know you can.” He stroked her hair with a faint smile on his lips. “I’m so proud of you for fighting back. You fucked them up, good and proper.”
She shivered and tried to ignore the lump in her throat. “Are they…?”
Inclining his head, he grabbed her bag and took her healthy hand in his. “They’ve been taken care of, okay? You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”
“And the others? The club?”
He was silent as he led her to the e
levator, pressing the button and staring at the numbers while they waited. “We gave them all an ultimatum that night after the score was settled. None of them have bolted so, even if there are some of them who have a grudge against you, they won’t retaliate again. The risk is too great for them and they’re all disgusted with what’s been done to you.”
“I guess that helps.”
“Not all of them are extremists, Cin.” They stepped into the lift and took it to the ground floor. “Ike was different. He didn’t care for women, but he hid it well. All that bullshit about being okay with his wife’s promotion… We had no idea what he was capable of.”
“That’s what gets me.”
“I know you’re scared, but I’m asking you to trust me,” Brennan soothed. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll do better this time.”
“Bren, you couldn’t have known.”
“That’s not the point. This happened to you while you were with me. You never ran into trouble in the city.”
She gulped at the fire in his eyes. Slowly, her libido was reigniting. He was so sexy when he was enraged.
She trailed by his side as they walked towards the exit and across the parking lot to his SUV, suddenly understanding that he was angry about more than just the obvious. He felt like he’d failed.
Oh, Bren, she thought tearfully. Maybe he should join her next session with Dr. McKauley so they could work through this together.
He loaded her bag in the back and opened the passenger door. “Okay, do it as slowly as you can,” he instructed. “Use the handles. I’ll help.”
Taking as deep a breath as her ribs would allow, she lifted her hip to get her ass—what was left of it, anyway—on the seat. Then she pulled her other leg in, wincing as she shifted to get comfortable. Brennan leaned over her to put her seatbelt on.
She felt like a cripple.
“Good,” he said with a wry smile. He pecked her on the lips. “Let’s go home.”
She warmed at the thought alone. He started the car and pulled out of the parking spot while she fidgeted with her hands. “How’re things going at work?”