Chapter 4 - The Fortress Inside
The medical suite on the second floor of the Reyes estate was equipped like a high-end private clinic.
Dr. Mercer, a quiet, gray-haired physician who had been on the Reyes payroll for two decades, finished wrapping Selena’s fractured ribs with clean white medical bandage.
"Two broken ribs, a severe concussion, and soft tissue damage to the jaw," Dr. Mercer reported quietly to Damon, who was standing by the window overlooking the north courtyard. "She's strong, Damon. Extremely strong. But she needs rest, quiet, and complete safety."
"She will have all three," Damon replied flatly.
The door to the medical suite clicked open.
Ruby sneaked into the room, still holding her stuffed rabbit, Bunny, by one ear. She was followed closely by two six-foot-four security guards who looked utterly terrified of stepping on her small light-up sneakers.
"Mommy!" Ruby cried, dropping the rabbit and sprinting toward the bed.
"Ruby, sweetie, slow down—" Damon started, stepping forward to intercept her so she wouldn't hit her mother’s broken ribs.
He caught the little girl mid-stride, scooping her up into his arms. Ruby didn't fight him; she reached out over his shoulder, her tiny fingers tangling in Selena’s hair as Selena leaned forward on the bed, pressing her face against her daughter’s neck.
"My brave girl," Selena sobbed softly, kissing Ruby’s cheeks, her forehead, her small nose. "My smart, brave baby..."
"I brought Bunny," Ruby announced proudly, pulling the stuffed animal up between them. "And Mr. Marcus gave me three cookies. But I saved one for you."
She reached into her small dress pocket and pulled out a somewhat crushed, lint-covered cinnamon cookie, holding it out to her mother like a precious treasure.
Selena laughed through her tears, taking the crushed cookie as if it were a priceless diamond. "Thank you, my love. It's the best cookie I've ever seen."
Damon watched the two of them, a profound, unyielding feeling settling deep inside his chest.
He had spent thirty-four years believing that safety was built with concrete, iron, heavy artillery, and cold, ruthless fear. He had believed that keeping his home empty was the only way to keep it secure.
Yet, here was this three-year-old child, who had walked through a room of stone-cold killers with a plastic pink suitcase, carrying nothing but absolute trust in him.
He set Ruby down gently on the edge of the bed beside Selena.
"Ruby," Damon said, crouching beside the bed so he was eye-level with both of them. "I'm going to have two of my best men stay outside this door. Nobody is going to hurt your mother. Nobody is ever going to scare you again. Do you understand me?"
Ruby looked at him with her large, dark eyes, then reached out and patted Damon’s cheek with her small hand.
"You're not a mean man, Mr. Damon," she whispered. "You're our man."
Damon froze for a fraction of a second, the words striking him harder than any bullet ever had.
Our man.
He stood up, his jaw set, his dark eyes burning with an unholy fire.
"I am," he said quietly.
He turned toward the door, where Marcus was waiting in the hallway.
"Damon," Selena called out, her voice filled with sudden panic. "What are you going to do?"
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Damon stopped at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder.
"I am going to finish what Victor started six years ago," Damon said. "And then I am going to make sure that when Ruby turns four, she never has to pack that pink suitcase ever again."
