“You sure, Dom?” Jack’s voice echoes in my head, and I scowl.

I want to smash his fucking teeth in. I get that his woman, his wife, was ready to rat on him. I fucking understand that. But this isn’t his woman. Becca isn’t a rat. I got her into that shit. She’s not at fault in any way.

And what he’s implying is unforgivable. My voice is low and deadly as I turn to face him and stare straight into his eyes with my hard gaze. I want what I say to be heard and understood. “If anyone touches her, or implies that any harm should come to her or her son, I will slit your fucking throat open.”

“Just calm down, Dom.” I look at my father like he’s the one who said it, because he’s keeping me from destroying Jack. My fists are clenched so tight my knuckles are white. How could he fucking imply that we should kill her?

“She’s just seen a lot is all.” He leans back against the bookshelves in the office, and I turn my head slowly to stare him down. Vince, Pops, Jack and I are in the office. Pops' office. It’s a dark room with thick curtains and dark chestnut bookshelves lining the walls. They’re filled to the brim. Pops loves to read, but he also likes to hide shit. I know some of the books are for his secrets. I just don’t know which books, or which secrets.

Vince paces by the door with his hands in his pockets, head bowed, staring at the antique rug as he walks. He doesn’t look up to respond to Jack, “She hasn’t even come to. We don’t know what she’s seen.”

“She was conscious when we were shooting. It doesn’t matter that we saved her. She could blab. She could sell us out.”

My father’s hands come down hard on my chest and then move to my shoulders, shoving me into the seat in front of his desk. My breath is caught in my throat, and adrenaline courses through my blood.

“That’s enough, Jack!” he yells at Jack, but his eyes are on me. I can feel them boring into me, but I’m not looking back at him. My eyes are shooting daggers at Jack. I fucking told him to shut his mouth. I don’t give a shit that he’s the underboss. Pops knows it. Jack’s days are numbered. I won’t allow it. I won’t allow anyone to keep breathing if they so much as think of touching my girl.

I shove Pops away and sit back in my seat, crossing my arms. I can’t turn my face neutral. I look pissed 'cause I am pissed. But I’ll bide my time, I’ll wait. But I’m not going to let De Luca live.

“You need to calm down, Dom; just think this through.” My father’s voice is calm and even. My brow furrows, and I glare at him. He can’t be fucking serious. A look of shock crosses his face as he says, “Between you and Jack. Just calm down, think it through.”

My tense shoulders relax slightly. I nod my head. He means me fucking up Jack. Thank fuck. I don’t know what I would do if he was talking about my doll. I swallow thickly and spear my hands through my hair and then grip it while I lean back in my seat. I stare blankly at the office ceiling.

I just can’t get the image of her hanging there out of my head. Her face is bruised. Her eye, her cheek. She obviously hit her head more than a few times trying to balance herself on the edge of that industrial steel sink. But it’s more than that. The bruises, the blood, they really fucked her up. All because of me.

She’s in my bedroom. My old bedroom at my parents' house. Just a few doors down from Pops' office. She hasn’t woken up yet, and that scares the shit out of me. Her skin was ice cold and pale. When the doctor stripped her down I saw the stab wounds on her legs. They didn’t show any mercy. Tears prick at my eyes, but I will them down. It’s all because of me. 'Cause I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.

Jax is downstairs playing with Gino. I’m glad the two of them hit it off. Jimmy brought some remote-controlled monster trucks over, and the kids are crashing them into each other. He keeps asking for her, looking around all worried. Ma’s got it taken care of though. I’m sure as hell not letting him see his mom like that. I don’t want to scare him. I have to protect the little guy as best I can. Luckily Paulie’s the only one those fuckers managed to hit, and it was only his leg. Doc took care of that with some quick stitches. A few days off and some whiskey will have Paulie good as new.

“What you need to be worrying about is De Luca and his gang.” Pops' voice rings out through the office.

They fucking got away. They were waiting, ready to ambush us. But they didn’t expect the numbers. They fled like the cowards they are. We got one of theirs. But you can’t question a dead body. We know their territory though. We know where they hang out. It’s fucking over.

“If I’d been there I would’ve told you guys to split.” Jack decides to chime in again. Silence greets him. He’s not the boss. He knows it, and so does Pops. But for some reason, my father lets him get away with that shit. “Someone always needs to be outside.”

“If we’d split up, they wouldn’t have run. But then we wouldn’t have had the numbers.” I finally look back at him. “I made that call, and I’m fucking good with it.” I sit forward in my seat. “Pops was there,” I look at my father, “and if he wasn’t good with it, he would’ve said so.” My father nods once in agreement. “If we’re going to go in for the kill, it’ll be on our terms. We were only there to get Becca. Nothing else.”

Pops squeezes my shoulder and walks around to sit at his desk. He sinks into the leather wingback chair and then clasps his hands and rests his elbows on the mahogany desk. His fingers steeple and the tips rest at his lips. “We had to lay low because of you, Jack. We don’t now.”

I shake my head. “I’m not ready. I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s alright.”

“Since when do you come on hits, Dom?” It’s not a question. Well, that’s not quite the question he’s asking, anyway. He knows there’s no way I’m not going after them. But I never have before. I don’t work the streets. I have my own business. I’m only in this family because he runs it. I have my bookie business, and that’s good enough for me. I work the familia’s books and that keeps me in, but that’s it.

“Things change.” I can’t look him in the eyes.

A knock at the door interrupts us. “Enter,” Pops says, pausing a conversation I’m not really sure I want to have.

The doctor walks in and gently shuts the door behind him. He’s an older man with short white hair and pale blue eyes surrounded by well-earned wrinkles. His glasses make him look distinguished even if he is wearing faded jeans and a thin V-neck sweater.

This isn’t the first time he’s been here, and it won’t be the last. Nearly a decade ago, his son got into problems with a gang on the west side. He begged my father for help. Pops knows a good man when he sees him. That, and it’s nice to have a doctor available for house visits on short notice for cash payments.

“She’s stable and from what I can tell, her injuries are purely external.”

“Is she going to be alright?”

“She’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Did they-?” I can’t finish the question. I swallow thickly and search his eyes. He knows what I’m asking.

“The rape kit came back negative.” I cringe at his answer but nod my head and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I’ll never forgive myself for what they did to her. But I am relieved to know they didn’t abuse her like that. She deserves better. She sure as fuck deserves better than me, but after what happened, I can’t let her go just yet. They know where she lives. Where she works. The doctor and Pops have a few words, but I don’t listen. I’m just focused on the fact that she’s alright.

Right now she’s alone though. I don’t like that. I want to be there when she wakes up. I stand up, ready to go see her. “Where are you going?” Jack asks me as I grab the door handle.

Where the fuck does he think I’m going? I stare at him for a minute, just so he can squirm under my gaze. I didn’t forget what he said. And he sure as shit better not forget what I told him. After a moment I leave, shutting the door a little harder than I should.

I wish Jack’s fucking head was between the door and the frame. I shake off my anger and try to calm myself. If she’s awake, she’s not gonna like me storming in there with a temper.

I open the door slowly and walk into my childhood bedroom. Not that it looks like one. Statistics books and other textbooks line the back of my desk, lined up in a neat row. Other than the books, the desk is cleared off. Exactly how I like it. The desk is solid maple and stained dark espresso in color. It’s modern, and reflects the rest of the furniture in the room. My sheets and comforter are perfectly white, and the walls are a cool grey. The only personality is provided by a simple framed, enlarged photograph on the wall. It’s an abstract shot with bursts of colors. I don’t know why I like it. But I do. Other than the framed photograph, my room displays order and discipline. It’s how I grew up. It’s how I stayed out of the mafia.

Lying under the sheets is Becca. The white sheets bring color to her complexion. I’m grateful for it. She’s completely still with her arms placed at her sides, and her eyes are closed. Without the color, she would look dead. I pull the desk chair to the side of the bed and sit next to her, taking her hand in mine. She’s warm. I watch her chest rise and fall gently. My heart seems to slow to beat in time with hers.

Bruises still cover her face and arms and the rest of her body. Even worse, the rope burns on her wrists may actually scar. On the nightstand next to the bed are ointments and bandages. The doctor applied them before he left, but I’ll take care of her from here on out. I’ll make sure this doesn’t scar her. Not in any way. She inhales a deep breath and winces in pain. I know she’s on pain meds, but maybe not enough.

“Becca?” My voice is hopeful, just as I am. I need her to wake up. I need her to tell me everything. And I need to apologize.

Her eyelids slowly open in a daze, either from a concussion or the meds, or maybe just exhaustion. I take her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles, keeping my eyes on her face. Watching her every movement.

“I’m here, doll. You’re alright.” Her eyes blink slowly and she turns her head, rubbing her cheek against the pillow. It takes a moment, but her eyes find mine. They seem to widen slightly, but she's still dazed.

“Jax?” She barely breathes his name.

I give her a reassuring smile. “He’s downstairs playing. He has no idea.” She closes her eyes and lets out a long exhale before slowly opening them again.

“Thank you.” Her hand weakly squeezes mine. Her head turns, and she winces in pain again before staring at nothing. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” My throat starts to close, so I grunt a cough and clear my throat. “It’s my fault, doll. I’m sorry.” I fucking hate that I’m apologizing. Not that I shouldn’t be, but that I’ve hurt her again.

She shakes her head slowly and then takes a deep, shuddering breath. She rubs her eyes and tries to get up, but I gently push her shoulders down.

She looks at me like I punched her. “I need to get Jax.”

“He’s downstairs.” She’s fucking crazy to think she’s going anywhere.

“I need to take him home.” Fuck that. That shit’s not happening.

“You’ll come home with me tonight.” I’m already dreading the drive, but we aren’t staying with my parents. I have a house and a room for her and Jax. I’ll take care of them.

She pushes me away, but then seems to consider my words. “Are they going to come back?”

“They will never hurt you again. I’m going to find them. I’ll take care of this.” Tears well in her eyes.

“I can’t just stay here.” Her voice is pained.

“Don’t worry, Becca. I’ll take care of everything.”

She shakes her head and says, “You don’t understand. I have work; Jax has school and soccer. I have a life.” She takes in a strangled breath. “I had a life.” Her knees pull into her chest, and she rolls over and buries her face in her hands. She sobs, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to tell her.

She can’t just go to work. She wouldn’t want to if she got a look at herself anyway. She can’t go home. I can’t let her out of my sight. I’m not going to give them another chance to hurt her.

“Phone!” She pops up too quickly for me to stop her.

“Doll, lie back down.” I try to get her to lie back, but she’s on her feet and looking around the room for her clothes. She’s holding a sheet draped around her.

“I need my phone and my clothes.” What the hell is wrong with her?

“You need to relax and take it easy.”

She shakes her head, but at least she stops in her tracks. “I need my phone.” She just keeps repeating herself. I finally pick it up off the bedside table and hand it to her.

“Where are my clothes?” she asks with her eyes on her phone.

“Trashed.” Her eyes shoot up at me. “I’ll get you new ones.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can get my own.” The way she says it makes my chest hurt. “I just need to get back. I have so much I need to catch up on.”

As I stare at her like she’s crazy, the doctor knocks gently and walks in immediately after. His bushy white eyebrows raise when he sees Becca out of bed.

“Mrs. Harrison?” he asks with skepticism.

She stares at him with wide eyes until her phone beeps in her hands and she starts typing away. There is obviously something very fucked up with her head right now.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I need to do a small physical as well now that you’re awake.”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” I quirk a brow at her. Who the fuck says she’s fine after going through that shit? And who the fuck is she texting? I stand up and grab her by the waist to pull her back to the bed. She goes rigid in my arms, but she doesn’t fight me.

“You need to lie down, doll. You’re not fine.” I lay her on the bed and she immediately sits up, covering herself with the sheet, phone still in hand.

“Who are you texting?” I finally ask, and she looks back at me with defiance.

“Sarah. I needed to make sure everything is running smoothly. And it’s not!”

“Mrs. Harrison-”

“Stop calling her that!”

“Stop calling me that!” We snap at the doctor in unison. Well at least we’re on the same page about something.

“Rebecca, then?”

“Becca.” I correct him before she opens her mouth.

“Ah. Becca, may I take your vitals and ask you a few questions?”

She keeps her lips pressed together and nods slightly. Why is she acting like this? She just got abducted and beaten, almost murdered. Is she hiding something? She’s got to be holding something back. She lays the phone on the bed and I immediately snatch it. A click of the home button takes me to her security code screen. I start to ask her, but then I remember her son’s birthday from the info Tony gave me. The day after my mother’s birthday. I click 0405 on the screen, and it opens. Her eyes widen, and her jaw juts out.

“Don’t text her back yet. I’ll figure out why.” She starts breathing heavy. “I’ll come up with a lie.”

I read through the few dozen texts from “Sarah PA.” Holy shit. Who the fuck has this many questions in only a few hours? The last one is, “where are you?!?” And Becca’s already responded to all of the other requests.

“You’re not going to tell her anything.” I put the phone in the pocket of my sweats and cross my arms. “You’re going to lie there and get your physical and then rest so you can get better.”

“I’m fine.” Doctor Koleman’s busy reading her pulse and ignoring us.

“You aren’t fine.” I don’t want to recount everything that happened today, but how the fuck could she think she’s fine?

The doctor takes the stethoscope from around his neck and instructs her to sit and breathe. At least she’s listening, even if she’s ignoring me.

“Becca, how are you feeling?” he finally asks, taking a seat in the chair I left by the bed.

“Don’t say fine.” I cut her off with a hard glare as she opens her mouth.

“I feel sore, especially my ribcage.” She speaks calmly, but the doctor cuts her off.

“Two of your ribs are fractured. You’ll have to rest up to help them mend.” She stares at the doctor with a look of confusion before shaking her head.

“No, I’m fine.” Her voice is small and laced with disbelief.

His brow furrows. “I'm certain they’re fractured. You’re on pain medicine at the moment, codeine. It’s going to take at least six weeks to heal properly. You don’t have to rest in bed all day, that’s fine. But you do need to take it easy and make sure to do some deep breathing every two hours to prevent any further damage to your lungs.”

She breathes in deep, as if testing his words. Her eyes fall to the floor.

The doctor continues, “Other than the fractures to your ribs, you have some serious abrasions on your ankles. I’ve left ointments here. You’re going to want to keep them covered when you shower, but gently wash them after and apply the ointment and bandages to keep them clean until they heal.”

Becca stares at the floor with a blank expression before slowly raising her head to look at Dr. Koleman.

“Becca, do you remember what happened?” he asks.

She noticeably swallows before answering, “Yes.”

“Would you mind sharing what you remember?” The room is so fucking quiet I can hear every breath, every small squeak from her shifting on the bed.

“It doesn’t matter. The past is the past for a reason, and it can stay there. I will continue to move forward.” What the fuck? Is that a public relations response?

“Becca, your blood pressure is very high. Are you currently on any medications?” She blinks slowly before answering with a nod. “I need to know what they are.”

“I’m on Valium,” she answers while her fingers intertwine and pull on one another. Her eyes flash to me before finding the ground.

“Anything else?”

She bites the inside of her cheek and says, “The morning-after pill.” I cock a brow at that answer, and then she continues, “Klonopin as well.” She twists the sheets in her hand. “Just at night though. The Klonopin helps me sleep.”

“How long have you been on these?”

“Almost three months. I was hoping to wean off of them, but it didn’t go well,” she answers with a hint of trepidation.

“What happened when your doctor lowered the dose?”

“Just an anxiety attack.” She says it casually, like it doesn’t even matter. “It’s been working very well.”

“I can see that. Your blood pressure is very high at the moment though, Becca.”

“I see.” Her words are sharp.

He leans forward and speaks with gravity in his voice. “I’m worried that you may be in a bit of shock.”

“And what can I do to fix that?” She looks expectantly at him, and I can’t fucking believe it.

“We’ll know more tomorrow. I’d like you to take your pills if you have them on you.”

Her eyes find mine as she answers with a bit of irritation, “They’re at my home.”

“No need to worry. I’ll be back soon with new medication.”

“No need. I need to go home to get a few things.” She starts to stand, and I move directly in her path.

“I’ll get everything you and Jax need; you aren’t going home.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “I think you’ve done enough.” Her words are designed to hurt me, and they're effective, but I ignore them.

“You would really put Jax in danger?” That gets her attention. She clenches her jaw.

“What am I supposed to do then? Nothing? Just let life roll over me?” Her breathing picks up as her voice gets louder. “Just lie there and let life fuck me over time and time again?” Her hands shove against my chest, surprising me, but I stand still and hardly budge. “What do you want from me?!” Tears burn in her eyes as she waits for a response, keeping her gaze firmly on mine.

This is the emotion I expected. More anger than I thought. But this is more of what I had anticipated.

“You just need to come with me, and I’ll take care of everything.”

A humorless laugh slips past her lips. “No you won’t.” She doesn’t say these words with anger. They’re simply stated as fact. “No one’s going to take care of me except for me. And I take care of Jax,” she says as she sidesteps me and mumbles under her breath, “no one else.”

She opens the door barely an inch before my palm slams on it and closes her in.

“You need to relax for just a minute and think things through, Becca. You don’t really have any options.”

She shakes her head and tries to pull the door open, even though she can clearly see I’m pushing against it. “I’ll just go to the police; they’ll be able to do something.”

My blood freezes, and I stare hard at the doctor. She’s still trying to open the door, completely unaware of what she just said and what it means to say those words.

I gentle my hand on her back and lean in close to whisper. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. But those words better never come out of your mouth again.”

Her hand falls from the door, and her eyes go round. She turns quickly, shaking her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She swallows and puts her hands on my chest, still frantically shaking her head. “That’s not what I meant.” Her breaths come in short pants and she repeats herself for a third time. “That’s not what I meant.”

I rub my hand on her back in soothing circles, shushing her. “I didn’t hear what you said, doll.” I place a soft kiss on her forehead. “What was it you said you were going to do?” I give her a hard look with narrow eyes, and fucking hate myself for it. She needs comfort right now, but she keeps pushing me away. I’ll do what I have to do to make this right, even if that means being a prick right now.

A frown mars her face, and sadness clouds her eyes with defeat. “I said I’ll do as you say, Dom.” Her voice is small as she pulls her hands away from my chest.

“Good girl. I’ll take care of you.” She swallows thickly and doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t answer me.

Becca’s a strong woman. I knew that the day she stepped into my office, but she doesn’t have to be right now. She can’t be strong all the time. It’s not possible. Right now she needs someone to lean on, someone to take the lead. Her small hands are still on my chest as I pull her into me. She’s resistant and stubborn. I smile and kiss her hair. She’s gonna have to learn to let me take care of her. I’m not gonna give her any other option.