stir, but I can feel her warmth, her breathing, her heartbeat. She’s alive, and from a quick glance, I don’t see any major, life-threatening injuries. That doesn’t mean she’s not hurt, though.
I lower her to the ground and remove the rope from her body as I hover over her.
I should be focused on getting answers from the dark shadow above me. I should focus on figuring out who he is, but all I can do is focus on Liesel.
I grab her hand and hold it tightly. “I’m here, now. You’re safe. I’m here.”
I try to bring her comfort, but I don’t even know if she can feel or hear me.
She’s still wearing my leather jacket and her black panties, which brings me some relief. But there are plenty of things that could have happened invisible to the naked eye. Some of the most effective torture twists your mind more than your body.
I stroke her face as I hold her hand. I want her to wake up, to talk to me and tell me she’s going to be okay. But I suspect after what she went through, sleeping is kinder than waking her up. If she’s asleep, she doesn’t have to face the pain yet.
Plus, I need to make sure there are no visible injuries on her body that I should take care of first. I start with her head and her legs. I don’t see any marks, cuts, or bruises. I exhale to find no bruising between her legs. I unzip her jacket and gasp.
Black and blue bruises cover her entire torso.
My hands fist, the vein on my forehead pops, and my nostrils flare. I’m going to kill whoever did this to her.
I study the rest of her body carefully as to not injure her further. I don’t find any cuts or lacerations—no external blood. But from the placement of her bruising—she’s broken several ribs. It’s going to be hard to move, to even breathe for a while. And there could be internal damage she’ll never recover from.
What I wouldn’t give for some ice or frozen peas right now. For some painkillers, anything that could help her. Instead, all I can do is watch over her. All I can do is watch and wait for her to wake up and hope the pain she feels is less than what I fear.
I pull her head into my lap, hold her hand, and watch her sleep. I pray that when she wakes up, she’s not irreversibly broken.
Liesel’s eyes flicker open, and my heart stops. I hold my breath, not sure what she’s going to say, how much pain she’s going to be in, or how my heart is going to break for once again failing her.
“I’m here, huntress. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Her head is still lying in my arms, and I’m still holding her hand. I doubt I, a monster in her eyes, am providing her any comfort. But I don’t let go of her hand—I won’t unless she does.
“Killer? What happened?”
I look at her with concern. I’m sure the drugs they shot her with made her memories fuzzy, but it won’t last long. My memories came back quickly after I awoke; hers will too.
“How are you feeling?”
She blinks, trying to push through the fog. “My head is spinning, but otherwise, I don’t feel too bad.”
“Do you want to try sitting up?”
Her eyes look up at me. “Only if you’ll hold me. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to sit up on my own.”
I smile at her. There is no way in the world I’m letting go of her unless she begs me to. And even then, it would take all of my willpower.
“I won’t let you go, not until you tell me to.”
She nods.
Then I lift her gently until she’s sitting up, leaning her back against my chest.
She hisses as she moves.
“Your ribs?” I ask.
She nods.
“It feels like I’m being stabbed with a hundred knives while being sat on by a thousand-pound elephant.”
“I’m pretty sure you have several broken ribs.”
She looks down at the jacket that I zipped back over her body. She finds the zipper and slowly opens it. Then she gasps.
I look over her body and notice the bruising looks worse than when I first examined her. This is because of me. Every terrible thing that has happened to her is because of me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You weren’t the one who did this.”
“Do you know who did this?”
“No.”
“Then how do you