Nicholas didn't take her to a hospital.
He didn't trust strangers.
He didn't trust anyone with her.
Instead, he drove straight to a private doctor he kept on call — a man who asked no questions and worked quietly, discreetly. Nicholas had used him before, on darker nights when things had gotten ugly.
But he had never brought someone like her.
Ella.
The name sat heavy on his tongue as he drove faster, weaving through the streets like a man possessed.
She made a soft sound beside him, barely audible.
Nicholas immediately reached over again, brushing her hair back from her face, murmuring soothing nonsense just to fill the air and let her know he was there.
"Almost there, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer."
She didn't answer, didn't even stir.
That terrified him more than anything.
When he finally pulled up outside a nondescript brick building, he leapt out of the car and was at her side in seconds.
He scooped her up again, cradling her so gently it looked almost absurd — this dangerous man holding something as fragile as spun glass.
The doctor was waiting at the door, summoned with a single furious phone call.
"Upstairs," Nicholas barked. "Now."
Without a word, the man led him to a small examination room. Nicholas laid Ella down carefully on the clean white bed, his hands reluctant to let her go.
"She's been beaten," Nicholas growled. "Head, ribs, god knows what else. I want a full check."
The doctor nodded and got to work immediately.
Nicholas paced the room like a caged animal, watching every move with narrowed eyes. Every time the doctor touched her — even gently — Nicholas had to remind himself he's helping her, not hurting her.
He had to shove his hands into his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and carrying her away again.
"She's lucky," the doctor said finally, after what felt like an eternity. "No internal bleeding. No broken bones, though she's going to be very sore. A mild concussion. She needs rest, fluids, and painkillers."
Nicholas nodded grimly.
He could handle that.
He would make sure she had everything she needed.
"She'll wake soon," the doctor added. "Her body just shut down from the trauma and the shock."
Nicholas waited until he finished patching her up, giving her fluids through an IV, and carefully cleaning the wounds on her face.
When the doctor tried to suggest transferring her to a hospital for overnight monitoring, Nicholas shut it down with a look.
"She stays with me."
There was no room for argument.
The doctor packed up and left with a wary nod, sensing the storm still brewing behind Nicholas's cold stare.
Nicholas sat beside Ella then, in the chair that creaked under his weight, and just looked at her.
The bruises on her face made something inside him twist viciously.
He should have known. Should have stayed. Should never have left her in that godforsaken place.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"This is my fault," he said under his breath, voice rough. "I should've protected you."
He didn't even realize he was speaking until the words were out.
He sat there for hours, unmoving, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft hiss of the IV drip.
The only proof he had that she was still alive.
When she finally stirred — a faint sound, barely a whisper — Nicholas was on his feet instantly.
"Ella," he said urgently, leaning over her.
Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted.
She looked so small, so breakable.
"Shh," he said, gently brushing the hair off her forehead. "You're safe now. I've got you."
She made a soft, pained noise and tried to move.
"Don't," Nicholas said quickly, his hand on her shoulder to still her. "You're hurt. Just rest."
She blinked up at him, dazed, confused. A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
Nicholas felt something splinter inside his chest.
"You're okay," he said, trying to make it true. "I promise you. I'm not letting anything happen to you again."
She gave a tiny nod — or maybe she just drifted off again.
Either way, Nicholas sat back down, never taking his eyes off her.
Ryan's face flashed in his mind — that sneering, ugly bastard — and Nicholas's hands clenched into fists on his knees.
He was going to make him pay.
Not just a warning. Not just threats.
No, Nicholas was going to ruin him. Tear his miserable life apart until there was nothing left but ash.
But first — Ella.
She needed him whole.
She needed him calm.
He reached over and took her hand again, threading his fingers through hers, feeling how cold and small they were.
"I'm not leaving," he said quietly, fiercely. "Not ever again."
And he meant it.