Corrupting Lily

Chapter 12

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Dominico

It is worse than I thought. The doctor talks through the backlit X-rays in his office, pointing out Lily's myriad injuries over the last couple of years. Broken arm. Three broken fingers. Fractures all over her body, including her ribs, ankles, wrists, and clavicle. Then there are the visual injuries that I have already seen and which the doctor says are so extensive it is one of the worst cases of abuse he has come across. Something a doctor has said about me before. However, the newest scars from being Don and bringing the famiglia into the position of power we were in now have put those to shame.

What is also surprising is that while most of these injuries are new, some of them are older—much older—from when she was young.

"The nurse is administering a corticosteroid injection, and I will give you a script for anti-inflammatories. She needs physio. I can arrange for someone to meet with her twice a week." A curt dip of my head, and the doctor is on the phone making the necessary arrangements.

This is about the injury that has brought us here, a historical kneecap fracture with severe post-traumatic osteoarthritis. The doc says the ligaments and tendons damaged in whatever incident caused this never healed properly, and long-term corrective surgery may be necessary if physio doesn't work.

While the how of this injury is uncertain, the who behind it, and the rest, I know. The slowly simmering rage that has been building since seeing Lily limp into the hall this morning has reached a full-on boil as I stand staring at the evidence of abuse little Lily Valentine has been forced to endure. No wonder she made her way to the dark. And there is no darker place to be than with me.

Matteo, who I want to kill for even allowing her to walk down the stairs in that state and then deigning to put his hand on her back, stands slightly behind me. Still alive, for now. I knew it was irrational to feel the amount of jealousy I had felt seeing another man's hand on a woman I barely know, but it was fucking there. And while it was, no man would touch her. Friend or foe.

The disgust on his face as the doctor had grocery-listed Lily's injury history was at least killing the edge of my anger toward him. The silent implication of what had happened to her, the loudness of her abuse staring back at us in such an intimate way, it was hard for anyone not to react. To see the history of someone etched deep into their bones. To truly see inside them in this way. It was surreal. And rage-inducing.

We did not abuse women. That shit stopped with the man I called father. When I was old enough, he never laid another finger on my mother. It was why I always had such a low opinion of him. Of anyone who did that. To me, they were lower than the gutter rats that fed on the dead bodies in the warehouse. It was also why I was vehemently against this sex trafficking ring that was taking over my city. Abuse of women and children was a hard limit for me, one I would kill to eradicate. The mafia might be monsters, but we were a different kind, and we had some scruples.

"Dante is here." Matteo's words are followed by the door to the consulting room swinging open as my capo enters, leaving a herd of giggling nursing staff and even some patients in his wake. The ladies loved this man. Tall, dark, and handsome with a smile that was as lethal as his skills with a knife. Probably why I have kept him far away from Lily. Until now.

"When I heard you were at Agatha's, I came immediately." Dante's eyes meet mine and then drift over to the X-rays, the levity on his face disappearing swiftly. The rage I feel has another companion. Dante feels as strongly about this as I do, having grown up in foster care where he, too, went through some experiences none of us speak of. The fact that he can smile now is sometimes surprising considering. Only Nero and I know the true extent of the horrors he faced.