Divorced And Crowned By The Dangerous Kings

Dominic Russo.

"Call Doctor Matt," I barked at my consigliere, Marco, as I carried the fragile brunette in my arms and rushed toward the waiting car.

Blood stained the bottom part of her dress, and the sight of it sent a sharp twist through my chest.

I had seen a lot of scumbags in my lifetime, but Victor Blackthorn took the fucking cake.

I had watched him humiliate her on that stage like she was nothing more than a disposable object. And then she had collapsed right in front of him, and he hadn't even flinched.

"Where are you taking her to?" Marco asked as he slid into the back seat with me, his phone already pressed to his ear.

"To my house," I said without hesitation. 

Luca was already behind the wheel, and he drove off immediately.

I turned my attention back to the woman in my arms. Her breathing was shallow, but at least she was still breathing.

I adjusted my hold on her, so that her head rested against my shoulder. 

"Doctor Matt is on his way," Marco said after ending the call. "He'll be waiting."

Good. I was so occupied with my thoughts that I didn't even hear his conversation with the doctor.

I didn't know what caused her to bleed. I could only hope it was menstruation and not internal bleeding. 

But does menstruation cause this much blood?

Doctor Matt and two nurses were already waiting as we piled into my estate minutes later.

"Bring her here," Matt ordered the second he saw the blood.

I followed him inside, my boots pounding against the marble floor as I carried her toward one of the guest rooms.

"Lay her on the bed," he instructed sharply.

I did, stepping back only when one of the nurses gently nudged me aside. They quickly started checking her vitals.

"Give us some space," Matt said suddenly, when he realized I was still in the room. "I'll call you when she's stable."

I clenched my jaw and stepped back, just as the door shut in my face. Dragging my hand down my face, I turned and went into the living room. 

I didn't know why I was worried about her this much.

I dropped onto the couch, resting my elbows on my knees as I stared at the floor.

I didn't even know her name. I didn't know anything about her. And yet, the image of her collapsing on that stage wouldn't leave my mind.

"You know I could have stayed back to scout for you," Marco said as he handed me a glass of whiskey.

I took it but didn't drink.

"There was no need," I replied. "We already saw that our target wasn't there."

He scoffed. "But he sent a representative. We could have waited to see what he was planning."

"No," I said, sharper this time. "Postpone the meeting with Jon Denver and oversee the club activities tonight."

Marco frowned. "You're not coming?"

"No."

I slammed my glass on the table and the liquid spilled a little. 

Refusing to acknowledge my temper, I stood and headed upstairs, peeling off my jacket as I went. 

I took a quick shower to wash off the blood and as soon as I got out, I collapsed face-first onto the bed.

Still, my mind went back to her. The disbelief on her face when Blackthorn started talking. The way her eyes finally turned hollow, like she was used to it. And then, the tears.

I hadn't even been invited to that damn banquet. It wasn't my scene. But on my way to Deranged Desires, my club, I saw the lights and heard the celebrations.

When Marco told me it was the Blackthorn Annual Banquet, I had felt the familiar urge to crash it and see if Liam Kingsley would be there. The bastard was my archenemy for a reason.

But he wasn't there, deciding to send a representative instead. I was already leaving, but then I heard Blackthorn's derogatory speech and knew I needed to do something.

Even now, I suspected that he had something to do with his wife bleeding out. But I guess I would have to wait for the doctor to come back with news. 

Several minutes later, when I was almost dozing off, a knock sounded at my door. 

"She's stable now, Don," the doctor informed me. I was on my feet instantly, making my way outside.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked as we walked.

He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's really bad."

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"She had an incomplete miscarriage," he continued. "And her blood sugar is dangerously low. She's lost a lot of blood and even though I've slowed the bleeding for now, she needs to go to a hospital."

The words hit hard. Miscarriage?

I exhaled slowly. "Can I see her? Is she awake?"

"Not yet," he said. "But you can go in."

I turned toward the guest room.

"Don," he called, stopping me in my tracks.

"Based on the injuries on her body," he said carefully, "I don't believe this was natural."

I turned back to him slowly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying she was physically assaulted."

Something inside me snapped. The image of Blackthorn's smile, his cruel jokes, and his smug little laugh flashed through my mind.

My first thought was simple and terrifying. "I'm going to kill Victor Blackthorn."

But first, I had to get his wife to a hospital.

***

As we drove to the hospital, she lay across the back seat, hooked up to an IV with one of the nurses monitoring her. I sat with her and watched her face the entire time.

She was pale with long dark lashes against her cheeks. There was a faint bruise around her eyes that I hadn't noticed before, which fueled my anger.

At the hospital, they rushed her in immediately, nurses and doctors surrounding the gurney.

"Family?" one of them asked.

I didn't hesitate. "Yes."

They disappeared through the doors and left me alone in the hallway.

I paced back and forth, my body too tense to sit.  That was when my phone rang, and I answered as soon as I saw it was Marco. 

"What's going on?" I asked. 

"The club is on fire," he replied after a short pause. 

I scoffed, "I'm currently in the hospital, Marco. And honestly, I don't have time for jokes."

"Don, this isn't a joke. Deranged Desires is on fire."

The words didn't register at first. And when they did, I let out a bitter laugh. 

"I'm on my way. And when I get there, you better have the bastards responsible lined up for me."

The call ended.

I stared at my phone for a second before throwing it against the wall. It shattered on impact, but that wasn't enough.

I dragged a hand through my hair, chest rising and falling, trying my best not to yell in anger.

I had two suspects already. And if either of them were behind this, I would make sure they begged like dogs before they died.