Fractured Souls (Perfectly Imperfect #6)

“Oh, don’t look at me!” He laughs, “I got mine years ago and I’m done.”

“And don’t we all remember the monumental fuckup that resulted in?” Roman snaps. “The speculations are still rampant all over Mexico about what happened to the Sandoval compound. Some people don’t believe the bullshit that the government is pushing about it being an earthquake, and think it was a meteorite strike instead.”

“Well, since Pasha doesn’t know shit about explosives, I’d say we’re good.” Sergei smirks at me. “Wanna share something about the girl Roman told me you have at home?”

Everyone’s attention immediately switches to me.

“I have no idea who she is. She won’t talk,” I say. “But when I found her, she was spiked with the same crap that was being peddled at Ural.”

“I need updates on this new drug,” Roman says. “I want to know who’s making it and for what purpose. And I want them dealt with. Fyodor’s daughter was a good kid. Everyone who was in any way involved in her death will pay for it. In blood.”

He jerks his head toward the door, which means the meeting is over. Kostya and Mikhail leave the office first, and the rest of us follow.

I’m crossing the foyer toward the front door when I hear high-pitched, female screams. I turn around, spotting Kostya cowering in the corner, protectively holding his hands over his head. Olga and Valentina have him pinned, crying and hitting him with kitchen rags. Looks like they still haven’t gotten over the fact that he broke up with both of them. The poor bastard had to move out of the mansion on the same day he told them they were done to avoid bodily harm. I leave Kostya to his misery and head outside.

My phone rings as I’m getting into my car. It’s the doc.

“Where are you?”

“Just leaving the pakhan’s house, heading to Ural,” I say. “Why?”

“I just spoke with a friend who’s a psychologist. She often works with assault victims. I explained the situation to her and told her about the girl’s behavior.”

“And?” I switch the phone to hands-free and put the car in reverse. “Did she have any idea what’s going on?”

“She wasn’t surprised and surmised that the girl has developed an attachment to you,” he says. “Apparently, some assault victims tend to stay away from men. Especially strangers, but sometimes even family members. Others, however, form a strong bond to whomever has saved them. They latch onto their protector, even if it’s a male.”

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“The trauma of being sexually assaulted is an experience filled with violence. It transforms a person’s sense of safety, the way they look at the world, and their relationships with other people. Looks like this girl started to associate the feeling of safety with you. She sees the rest of the world as unsafe. As her savior, you’ve become her ‘safe place.’”

“I didn’t save her. She saved herself. Ran out of that building.”

“Realistically speaking, yes. But in her eyes, you’re the one who saved her. We don’t know how long she was held captive and sexually assaulted. You taking her to your place could be the first time she’s felt safe in days. Weeks. Maybe months.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“Go home. Talk to her. She needs professional help, and she needs her family,” he says in a grave voice. “And she shouldn’t be left alone.”

As soon as I cut the connection, I call Ivan and send him to Ural. It’s an hour-long drive from Roman’s to my place, and the whole time I mull over what the doc had said. I should have stayed with the girl. What if she woke up and was scared because I was gone? No one in their right mind would have left the girl in that state alone in a strange place. I wasn’t thinking.

I hit the steering wheel with my hand and press the gas pedal harder.

* * *

When I open the front door, it’s pitch black inside. Could she still be sleeping? I reach for the switch, turn on the lights, and stop dead in my tracks. The girl is sitting on the floor a few paces from the door with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her body is shaking uncontrollably.

“Shit.” I crouch down beside her, intending to scoop her up, but as soon as I reach for her, she leaps into my arms. Wrapping herself around me like a koala bear again, she buries her face in the crook of my neck.

Holding on under her thighs, I carry the girl to my bedroom. My intention to gently lower her onto the bed doesn’t go as planned when her arms and legs squeeze me in a tight hold.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you alone,” I whisper and sit down on the edge of the bed.

There is a bundled blanket next to me, so I reach for it and wrap it around the girl’s shoulders. She doesn’t move, just clings onto me, still shaking.

“You’re safe.” I place my hand on her nape and stroke her back with my other one in what I hope is a soothing motion. “You’re safe.”

A small sigh leaves her lips, and her body relaxes in my arms. I keep up my comforting strokes for at least half an hour before she lifts her head off my shoulder. I reach for the lamp next to the nightstand, turning the dimmer switch to bring up the lights a bit more. The girl blinks a couple of times, probably adjusting to the sudden brightness, then looks right into my eyes.