A Crown of Blood and Roses

The family's private clinic was in chaos.

Alistair practically roared as he grabbed the head physician who had rushed over. "Save her! Save her first! Use the best medicine, the best doctors! Now!"

His eyes were bloodshot, his hands trembling. All his fear and panic were locked on the person being wheeled into the emergency room.

Just as the chaos began to subside, I saw a look of dawning horror cross Alistair's face. Aurelia.

His heart seized. He fumbled for his phone, about to order a man back to the ambush site, but his fingers were stiff and clumsy.

Then, he turned and saw me. I was staggering toward him from the end of the corridor, moving slowly, as if every step was on broken glass.

The blood on my forehead had dried, leaving dark streaks on my pale face. Dust covered my clothes. I looked battered and frail.

I saw a flash of pain in Alistair's eyes. He rushed toward me, grabbing my arm. "Lia. Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Just now, I…" His words became a panicked, incoherent jumble as a wave of delayed terror washed over him.

"Kiera passed out! I didn't forget you! I swear I didn't mean to!"

I lifted my eyes, but my gaze was empty. It landed on his face but seemed to see nothing.

I gently pulled my arm free without answering.

That silence made Alistair even more frantic. His gaze dropped to my leg and froze. I followed his eyes to the long, ugly gash on my calf, the skin peeled back in a mess of flesh and blood. It was surrounded by a large area of bruises and abrasions, blood and dirt mixed into the wound. And above the wound, the tattoo on my collarbone—the iris he’d had changed into a garish rose—seemed to mock us both.

He knew how easily I scarred, how even a small cut could leave a permanent mark. For ten years, he had protected me so carefully, barely letting me get a single scratch.

"Doctor!" Alistair's voice was sharp as he grabbed a passing physician. "Treat her. Use the best of everything. I don't want to see a single scar, you hear me?"

He pressed my shoulders urgently, trying to steady me.

"Don't be scared. It's okay. Modern medicine is very advanced. It won't leave a scar."

I looked at the fear and confusion in his eyes and felt a momentary daze.

The emergency room door opened, and a nurse peeked out. "Mr. Brennan! Miss Byrne is awake! She's very unstable and has been crying for you!"

Alistair froze for a second, then immediately turned, the worry in his eyes instantly shifting.

The nurse added in a low voice, "The wound on her cheek is deep and severely infected, with extensive tissue damage. Even after debridement, it will be difficult for it to heal properly… it might leave a permanent, indented scar and could even affect her facial muscles."

Kiera's broken sobs drifted out from inside, raw and desperate.

Alistair's expression flickered. He glanced toward the emergency room, then abruptly turned back to my leg. His eyes were filled with a terrible struggle.

Then, as if he had made up his mind, he walked over and stopped in front of me, his voice dry and tense.

"Aurelia… Kiera's face is injured. The doctor said she needs a small piece of healthy skin for a graft."

I snapped my head up, staring at him in disbelief. I shook my head, taking a step back.

"Just a small piece," Alistair said urgently.

He couldn't meet my gaze, his eyes darting toward the emergency room as if Kiera's cries were a physical pull.

"She's still young. Her life is over if her face is ruined! Lia…" He paused, the next words seeming to scorch him, but he forced them out anyway. "Consider this settling a debt. For saving your family. For the ten years I've kept you."

Settling a debt.

Those words pierced me, tearing me apart.

I stared at the man before me, so familiar yet so strange. I saw the anguish on his face as he worried for someone else. I saw my own torn leg, the wound he had just sworn would not leave a scar.

A bitter tide of hurt and despair rose in my chest, swallowing me whole.

I opened my mouth but couldn't make a sound.

Finally, moving slowly, I gave a slight nod.

Alistair seemed to let out a breath of relief, but at the same time, he looked as if he'd been stung.

He quickly looked away and shouted at the doctor, "Quick! Arrange the surgery! Use the best anesthetic! Don't let her feel any pain!"

Then, he rushed into the emergency room to comfort the crying girl.

I was wheeled into the operating room. As I closed my eyes, a single tear slid down my cheek.

My last thought before the anesthesia took hold was that this was good, in a way.

A piece of skin.

To repay ten years of his kindness.

When I woke up, the anesthesia still hadn't fully worn off. My head felt heavy and muddled.

A deep, throbbing ache came from my leg.

I turned my head with difficulty.

In the clinic room, Alistair sat on the sofa opposite me, his attention completely focused on the slender figure in his arms.

Kiera's face was wrapped in gauze. She leaned against his chest, sobbing softly.

Alistair held her carefully, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on her back, soothing her in a gentle voice. "Don't cry. It's all over. The skin graft was a success, it won't leave a scar. I'm here with you."

His voice was so soft, so focused, as if Kiera were his entire world.

I slowly looked away. My fingers trembled as I lifted a corner of the blanket.

Thick gauze was wrapped around my thigh.

At the edges, the exposed skin was red and swollen.

I had always been terrified of scars.

Now, I really had one.

The pain in my heart was like having a piece of flesh ripped out.

But now, everything was even.

A piece of skin.

For ten years.

We were quits.