***ZANE’S POV***
I gently lift London from the bathroom floor and notice the bruise on her forehead. I will need to put a bandage on it, it will give a nasty scar if care isn’t taken.
Sighing, I lean her in the bathtub and glare at her.
Her perfect green eyes meet mine and she stares away, tears streaking down her face.
I didn’t utter a word, but my presence was as thick as that of a thief. I felt the big bathroom with my large frame body.
The water was warm, I had made sure of that. Grabbing the soft sponge, I start scrubbing away the blood from her hands, I push the sponge closer to her lower belly and stop.
London wasn’t active and she didn’t even know how close I had been to sponging her pussy.
Dodging to her thighs, I spread them gently and she doesn’t fight me, London just lets me do it as I feel pleased.
Finished cleaning her up, I made sure to wash her hair. I don’t put her on the sink, not after what just happened.
Carrying London to the bed, I wrap a towel around her. Another one is used to soak her hair and I walk away to the pack of clothes I had brought here. I threw a T-shirt over her head.
Removing the towel from her head, I grab a comb and start lacing her hair out.
Braiding it into two imperfect braids, I use a scrunchie I saw in the drawer and tie the ends with it.
“Get some sleep, little human, today was hard on you,” I say, placing a kiss on her forehead.
I noticed the bad bruise had turned purple, so, I got a band-aid and the moment I touched London’s face, that was when the nightmare started.
“NOOOOOOOOO!!” she screamed out, her eyes wide and flaring as she was startled and on alert.
“London,” I call out gently, trying to reach out to her.
“Don’t touch me. Let me go,” London was screaming and begging.
She wasn’t in the present, heck, she was never in the moment, she had been trapped in the time when she killed that fucker.
I hate that my wife has to stain her hand with blood, but I will let her do it again if it means she did the right thing protecting herself and my baby.
“Calm down, baby, it is me,” I managed to say, but she was shaking her head violently, kicking her legs out.
She only had my boxers on, they didn’t hold her tight, but it prevented me from seeing her completely vulnerable.
“No. Please, don’t,” she cries out, her hands in front of her as she stares wildly at nothing.
A knock on the door and I rush to it.
Dr. Smith and Reaper are standing behind it.
I let the doctor inside.
“Is someone looking after Micah?” I inquire, my concern going out to him.
“Yes. I brought an assistant doctor, he will stitch him up in less than no time,” he explains.
Nodding, I point at London and explain what had happened.
“It must be the stress that has gotten into her head. I will give her some sedatives. It will calm her down for the night,” Dr. Smith explains.
I nod, fighting the urge to punch that fucker that had out my wide in such a mood.
When London spots three of us in the room, the howls she produces from her mouth make me shudder.
“She is still leaving her horrific moment. You need to step back, Mr. Vincenzo,” the doctor says as he searches through the bag he brought with him, checking out the vial to put in the syringe he pulls out next.
“I would be standing here, I am not leaving London unattended,” I explain meaning business.
Dr. Smith stares at me before nodding.
“Then, you and Reaper can hold her down then, I will apply the sedative on her,” he says plainly staring at London.
As if sensing our plans, London crosses to the other side of the door and looks at the door, then, back at us.
“You wouldn’t be able to reach the door before I am tackling you down to the ground, baby. Stay put, please. You need to calm down before you hurt yourself,” I shout out.
“She can’t hear you, Mr. Vincenzo, she is having a panic attack,” the doctor blurts out.
I cuss beneath my breath as I watch London, daring her to take the first move.
As my ever loving wife would do, London bolts to the door, and as promised, I take quick steps towards her, closing the distance between us, then, I knock her with my weight, throwing her to the ground.
I am careful to flip her over so that I land on my back first, and she falls on me.
I will protect my baby and my stubborn wife at all costs.
“Help me, Reaper,” I order as London starts pounding my chest, trying to escape.
“My husband will kill you when he finds out that you have set your dirty hands on me,” London barks out to Reaper as he steps forth, trying to carry her away from me.
“I am your husband, London, and I am only trying to help you out,” I say as I get to my feet, helping Reaper to carry London to the bed.
“No, you are not. Zane wouldn’t do this to me. He wouldn’t try to rape me, he wouldn’t send men to abuse me sexually,” she whines out crying.
I swallow, finding it difficult to complete the action. London’s words were cutting deep into me.
On the bed, I hold her hands above her head while I cross my leg over her torso.
“I would never hurt you on purpose, baby, but I promise, when you wake up, you will feel better. Much more better than you are feeling right now,” I explain, hoping she sees through me.
The doctor’s syringe comes at London’s neck and she dozes off.
“I need my wife back. Whatever Michael did to put her in this stage, he would pay for it,” I swear climbing off her limp body.