ROME'S P.O.VAlive was hardly the word I'd use to describe her.Assaulted? Pummeled?Broken, maybe?She drew her split lower lip between her teeth when the guard gently set her into the cushioned recliner. Cautiously, as if she feared it would fall off, she lifted her half-good arm to brush billowing strands of hair out of her face and tucked it securely behind her ear.The guard fixed the seat belt over her wounded waist and tugged at it several times to ensure it was secure. He stepped back, hauled the metal door closed, and waited until we rose in the sky before returning to the building.Vainly relaxing into my seat, I focused on the wounded girl trying to shrink into hers.I found her.The little girl I'd been looking for years ago. That rich, wide-eyed princess. She was alive and breathing, but she wasn't the same beaming hero.She was a broken, battered mess.The printed profile of her inky black hair and striking eyes had rocked me the second I'd located it in one of Grandfather's files. She'd been "working" in one of the establishments he'd left behind for the past four years.The P.S.L.U.T. it was called.The meaning was attached to the fact that the name was a phonetic. It meant exactly what it sounded like, but with class.Every part of the stupid, over-the-top name screamed 'Gramps.'This was one of the reasons why I came. I'd wanted to know for myself if it was truly her, if she really was the person I had been searching for when I was younger.I could barely hide my shock when she'd strutted through those doors wearing that scrap of material and an alluring smile.There had been no doubt in my mind that it was her. Either way, she hadn't recognized me. It was logical that she hadn't. We'd both changed. I was supposed to be a wealthy customer in her eyes.I tapped my finger against the armrest, irritated at the mess I'd found her in.A severe breakdown of what happened was in order because none of this made sense. She was rich, well, she used to be, and her parents had guards around her at all times, so how was she part of the kidnapped girls?For the first time in a long time, I felt pity.They reported that she'd tried to escape, so she served as a scapegoat to the rest. Her friend had been able to disappear and left her behind to take the heat. She'd also lost another in the process.My eyes roved over her depressing state. She reeked of blood, dirt, and saline.One shoulder hung limply by her side, her nails were gone, leaving dark clumps of blood behind, and she was sporting quite the shiner. There was a choppy gash on the side of her stomach even though my doctor had stitched her back. Several parts of her chest and legs were tinted black and blue. Red stains covered almost every inch of her tanned skin.How did she end up here?Without her charming mask, she appeared docile and innocent. She didn't even look a day over seventeen. I studied her. She sat with her head bowed and her back stiff and coiled tighter than a spring. She didn't dare to move, but it was clear from her tight grip on the armrest that she was wide awake and highly paranoid.To test the theory further, I lifted one leg, and she froze, observing as it settled on my knee. She relaxed her grip.I subtly inclined my head to my assistant. The order didn't have to be repeated twice."This may seem suspicious, but," Ezra lifted the glass of water from the tray and held it out to her, "please drink this and rest. We'll be in the air for a while, and I can tell you need it."She stared at the liquid longingly, but her brows dipped like she was struggling through a mental argument.Ezra allowed a breathy laugh. "I promise you it's not poisoned, scouts' honour." He held up a couple of fingers, an easy smile still in place.After a few strained minutes, she leaned forward, her cracked lips readily latching onto the glass, and Ezra fed her the spiked liquid.Clear drops stumbled down her chin as she greedily swallowed, and I couldn't help but wonder how long they'd kept her thirsty.Sighing in satisfaction, she pulled away from the drained glass and settled in her seat again. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to stay alert, but her body was too weak to fight the drug. She fell asleep in under a minute.Pushing out of his seat, Ezra reached for the lever on the side to slide her seat back. I watched as he selected a blanket and laid it over her chest. Reaching up, he brushed a dirty lock of hair out of her face to reveal a bruise hidden beneath it. It was puckered, angry, and red.My eyes dragged down to the dip in her neck, and I observed the hollowed skin pulse with every heartbeat. She'll live.As Ezra cleaned his hands, I picked up my phone and took a picture of her."She looks horrible," Ezra said. "I can't believe people can beat a human being in this state. How did you know she was here, sir? Is she someone you know? Are there others we can help?""We're taking her, but this stays between us," I warn him, and he fishes out his iPad. "No one can know who she really is. You're going to create a new name and life for her. I want enough information about her on Wikipedia. Date it back to three years ago and make her a long-lost cousin with no parents.""Anything else?""Yes. Make a call to the best plastic surgeon in the state. Have them meet us in 5 hours." Then I sent him the picture I took of her. "Find an actress who looks exactly like her or anyone who is willing to have their face done so they look like her. Give them a blank check if they agree.""May I ask why?""We're going to need the best decoy. They'll have to live their life as her for a while."