Chapter 25 Little Broken Things
Gianni's POV
The door swung open and Luca stepped through, half-dragging, half-carrying what was left of Cedric Santos.
Six hours. It had only been six hours, but the boy looked like he'd aged six whole years. His skin was grey and deathly pale in the morning light, and his eyes, the sharp, defiant eyes of his that had glared at
Gianni even while kneeling, were completely empty. He looked shell-shocked with his eyes wide open, as if someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that made him him.
Dirt and something darker, blood, maybe, or the grime from the cell floors, streaked all across his face and clothes. His hair stuck up at odd angles where he'd clearly been pulling at it, and he was shaking so violently that Gianni could see it from across the room.
"Boss," Luca said, his voice carefully neutral. "As requested."
He released his grip on Cedric's arm and his legs gave out immediately.
Gianni moved without thinking, closing the distance in three strides and catching Cedric before he hit the floor. The man’s weight collapsed against him, mostly dead weight and trembling limbs, and Gianni found himself automatically adjusting his grip, pulling Cedric closer and supporting him.
"I've got you," Gianni heard himself murmur. "I've got you."
Cedric made a sound at the back of his throat, it wasn’t a sob, though it didn’t really sound like a whinier either, yet his fingers clutched weakly at Gianni's shirt. His whole body was rigid with tension, wound so tight Gianni thought he might shatter if he was touched wrong.
Gianni's hand moved to Cedric's back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades, soothing and comforting him gently.
"Breathe," Gianni said quietly. "Just breathe, Cedric. You're safe now."
His other hand slid into Cedric's hair, smoothing down the wild strands, and Cedric's shaking intensified for a moment before slowly, gradually beginning to ease. His breathing was still too fast and too shallow, but at least he was breathing.
Gianni wasn't sure how long they stood like that, him holding this broken boy, murmuring meaningless reassurances and acting like some kind of... what? Protector? Savior?
You did this to him, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. You're the reason he looks like death, you put him in that cell.
Someone cleared their throat behind them, ruining the moment.
Gianni's head snapped up. He'd completely forgotten that Luca was still there, standing close by the door with an expression that was carefully, professionally blank. But Gianni could see the calculations happening behind his security chief's eyes, and all the questions forming.
"Get out," Gianni commanded sharply.
Luca blinked. "Sir?"
"I said get out. Go make yourself useful somewhere else. Check the perimeter, or review the security footage from last night, I don't care. Just get the fuck out of my sight."
"Yes, Boss." Luca moved toward the door, but paused with his hand on the handle. "If you need anything…"
"Out."
The door clicked shut.
The moment they were alone, Cedric changed. His body went from limp and weak to tense and resistant. His hands, which had been clutching Gianni's shirt for support, suddenly shoved hard against his chest.
Gianni let him push away, but kept one hand ready in case the boy's legs gave out again.
Cedric stumbled back a step, then another, putting distance between them. His eyes were no longer vacant; instead, they were blazing furiously, locked straight onto Gianni's face.
"Don't," Cedric spat, and his voice was wrecked and hoarse from screaming. "Don't you dare touch me like that, you fucking... You!”
He swayed slightly, and Gianni noticed he was favouring his left side and that Cedric kept his right arm held stiffly against his ribs.
"You're hurt," Gianni said, taking a step forward.
"Stay back!" Cedric's left hand came up in a harsh gesture. His right arm didn't move at all. "Just... just stay the fuck away from me."
Gianni's eyes narrowed, tracking every single micro-expression the other man made. From the way Cedric was cradling his right arm to the careful way he was breathing, as deeper breaths hurt him.
"What happened to your arm?"
"What do you think happened?" Cedric spat, glaring daggers at Gianni. "Your guard dog twisted it pretty badly when he was shoving me into that coffin you call a cell."
Luca. Gianni filed that away for later. He'd specifically told his men not to hurt Cedric more than necessary for restraint and they had gone against his command. They would pay for that, sooner rather than later.
"Let me see it," Gianni said.
"No."
"Cedric…"
"Are we even now?" Cedric's eyes were bright with unshed tears, his jaw clenched so tight that Gianni could see the muscle jumping. "I shoot you, you traumatise me for life? Is that how this works? Are we square?"
Gianni had no answer for that. Nor did he have any words that would make any of this okay or justified or anything other than exactly what it was, punishment that had gone far beyond what was necessary.
You wanted to break him, that voice whispered again. Congratulations. You succeeded.
Instead of answering, Gianni closed the distance between them. Cedric flinched but didn't retreat, and when Gianni's arms came around him, gentle this time, so gentle, the boy didn't push away.
"I'm sorry," Gianni said into Cedric's hair, and the words felt foreign on his tongue. When was the last time he'd apologised for anything? "I'm sorry."
Cedric's body went rigid, then slowly began to soften. His face pressed against Gianni's shoulder and the dam finally broke with harsh, ugly sobs that shook his entire body.
Gianni just held him, one hand stroking his hair, the other carefully avoiding his injured arm, and let him cry.
Minutes passed, or maybe longer, but eventually, the sobs quieted down to just sniffles, and Cedric's breathing evened out. He didn't pull away, just stood there in Gianni's embrace like he was too exhausted to do anything else.
Gianni became aware of other things then. He started to realize he Cedric smelled Cedric smelled like sweat and fear and the distinctive stink of those cells. Even the way his clothes were stiff with dried God-knows-what. The way he was still shaking, just slightly, like his body couldn't quite remember how to stop.
"Come on," Gianni said quietly, and carefully. He gently slid one arm under Cedric's knees and lifted him.
Cedric made a small sound of protest but didn't fight it. He was too tired, and too wrung out for that. He let his head fall against Gianni's shoulder as he was carried across the suite toward the bathroom.
The bathroom was exactly as excessive as the rest of the estate, full of marble and gold fixtures, with a shower that could fit six people and a tub that looked like it belonged in a spa.
Gianni set Cedric down carefully on the closed toilet lid, and the boy swayed slightly on his feet before catching himself with his good hand.
In the bright bathroom lights, Cedric looked even worse.
There were dark circles under his eyes, and scratches on his arms from God knows what, and his right wrist was already beginning to swell and bruise.
Gianni ran a hand through his hair, suddenly uncertain. He'd never done this before, that is, cared for someone after hurting them. Usually, his victims either died or went to the hospital, and there was no after-care, or any gentle tending of wounds.
But looking at Cedric, Gianni knew he couldn't just leave him like this.
"Can you bathe yourself?" Gianni asked, keeping his voice neutral. " Or do you need me to help you do it?"