Chapter 115
I got out of his room and went to my study to get a drink. I couldn’t stay in that room any longer as the doctors inspected his body like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Their hands moved clinically over his broken form, murmuring to each other in hushed, indifferent tones. It made my skin crawl. He was not yet a corpse but still, I was afraid.
After having a single drink, I stopped. Drinking made me irrational, and monstrous. The last time I gave in to the bottle, I broke a man’s jaw for speaking out of turn. I went to the bathroom and took a shower, washing his blood off my body. This was the first time I hated the sight of blood covering my hands. It belonged to him. It was his innocent blood. No matter how hard I scrubbed, it felt like it seeped into my skin, like guilt.
After six fucking hours or so, our family’s doctor knocked on my study and told me that he had mild cranial trauma, two broken ribs, a nose injury, and a dislocated jaw. They had sedated him heavily and he won’t be waking up in the next twelve hours.
The report was clinical, distant. I clenched my jaw, every word pounding through my skull like gunfire. And I was going to return all these injuries to the fuckers who hurt him and I will make it a thousand times worse. Every bruise, every cracked bone, I’ll make them beg for death before I give it to them.
I went back to his room and stilled in the doorway. He looked so fucking pale, fragile, and weak. He didn’t look like himself. He didn’t look like my stupid little Nikolai. The boy who always had a retort, who rolled his eyes at my temper. Now he just laid there, unmoving, like something had stolen all the light out of him.
What I was feeling pissed me off, that feeling was so fucking odd, it was messing with my sanity. I cared, I wanted to take all of his pain away. I shouldn’t care. I told myself that a thousand times. But his silence was louder than any scream.
I wanted to hold him, tell him everything will be alright, but what the fuck would that make me? That would make me weak. I was not my father and I will never fucking be him. He loved his woman and that made him an easy target for his enemies and made my mother the prime target at all times. The lengths he went to just to keep my mother safe but wasn’t I doing the fucking same for Nikolai?
I ran from my wedding, turned my whole family upside down, and spent millions of dollars without even a single thought just to look for him. My enemies are probably laughing now. The cold–blooded Salvado Romero risking it all for one bruised little boy.
Fuck! FUCK!
I annoyedly sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands resting on my knees as I looked down. Nikolai’s breathing was even. It was calm, and soft, even though his sleep was medically induced. His dark eyelashes rested on his porcelain skin, his eyelids were swollen and had turned black, bruising all over his face. A big bandage was wrapped around his head. None of this would have happened to him if he hadn’t ran away from me.
My teeth gritted with irritation as I remembered the sight of him lying almost naked in that bed. If I hadn’t been there on time, the fucker would have taken him like the coward he was. Just thinking about it made my vision blur red with fury.
What kind of desperate excuse of a man would force himself on a man? A boy half his size and age. He fucking knocked him unconscious and tried to have his way with him. I thought about the different ways I’m going to torture that motherfucker, I will fucking watch him take his last breath when I strangle the life out of him with my bare hands.
