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I’m going to fucking kill him and every man who did nothing to stop this.

My eyes trail over the deep purple bruising marked across her skin, my hands curling into tight fists at my sides.

“Maybe you should wait outside while I examine her,” Doctor Rose suggests carefully. “She’ll likely need X-rays.”

I inhale deeply and shake my head. I’m not leaving her side. She obviously came to me for a reason, and I’m not going to fail her again.

“Understood. In that case, help me get her to the X-ray room, then?”

I grip the bed rails and push, following her into the hallway, down the corridor until we reach another room. Carefully, I slide my arms beneath Charlotte and lift her, transferring her onto the exam table.

Doctor Rose prepares the machine while putting on a thick grey vest. She looks my way. “You may want to stand outside for—” She immediately stops talking when she sees the look on my face. “Never mind.”

The machine hums to life, and she takes images of Charlotte’s chest and torso.

Minutes later, I’m alone with Charlotte while Doctor Rose reviews the scans. I turn on the sink, wet a cloth under cold water, wring it out, and return to Charlotte’s side, gently pressing it against her forehead.

Her eyelashes begin to flutter, and a second later, her eyes open, locking onto mine. Confusion dances across her irises as she looks around the room, her chest moving rapidly, especially when she notices the IV hooked up to her arm.

“You’re okay, Charlotte,” I tell her, a gentleness taking over my deep voice. “You’re safe.”

She swallows hard, tears building in her eyes. “I need…” She takes a deep breath, her fingers gripping the blanket around her. “I need your help.”

“I know.” My hand tightens around the bed rail, something sharp twisting in my chest at the pain in her voice. “And I’m not going to break the promise I made you.”

“You…” Her brows furrow. “You remember me?”

“Of course, I do.”

God, I haven’t been able to forget her.

“But how… How did you know it was me you were talking to?”

I squeeze the back of my neck. “To be honest, while we talked, I had no idea who you were. It wasn’t until I returned to the main room when I saw you in your silver dress and put two and two together.”

Her eyes drift down, her trembling hand reaching up to wipe across her face.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

She nods.

I walk over to the small fridge and open the door to retrieve a premade sandwich and a bottle of water. I return and hand them to her. She takes them from me, carefully placing them on her lap and staring down at them.

“It’s a turkey sandwich,” I tell her.

She gives a slight nod, appearing deep in thought.

“Would you prefer something else?”

She shakes her head, but her gaze doesn’t move an inch.

Her eyes begin to well with tears as she continues to stare at the sandwich, a mix of longing and fear.

It’s the fear that catches me off guard.

Because a sandwich shouldn’t coat her eyes in anxiety.

And if she’s hungry, then why won’t she—