Chapter 26 Elena
ELENA
Iclamp my hands over my ears, but it does very little to silence the gunfire.
My feet scramble around in front of me as I try to push myself into the wall. After a few seconds, there's a lull and I lift my head up and look around. I slowly bring my hands down and listen.
BANG.
Bullets tear through the bathroom and I scream as loud as I can from fright and cover my ears again. Small holes appear along the mirror above the sink and the mirror spiderwebs and breaks as light from outside comes through.
Another burst of gunfire comes, moving closer to me, chunks of debris and whatever else spraying across the tile.
I can't breathe. The air is thick with dust and smoke, and it makes my lungs burn.
A few more rounds come through the wall and I swear I feel the breeze of the bullet passing me.
I'm going to die in here.
The thought overtakes the panic and I feel my nervous system kicking in.
Adrian told me to stay here, but if they keep shooting, this bathroom will become my grave.
My hands drop from my ears. I crawl forward, my knees scraping against broken pieces littering the floor, and I reach for the lock.
My fingers shake so badly I almost can't turn it.
Finally, I do and the door swings open, and I'm greeted by a wall of smoke. After a few moments, it disappears out the missing bedroom window and I can see the faint outline of the door.
I stay low, crawling toward it.
Gunfire echoes somewhere deeper in the cabin. Men shouting. The crash of something heavy hitting the floor.
The smoke burns my eyes, makes them water. I wipe them with the back of my hand and keep moving.
I reach the door and look down the hallway and the smoke thins just enough for me to see shapes.
Bodies on the floor, blood, lots of blood and then I see him.
Adrian.
He's shirtless on his back, his left arm hanging limp at his side, blood streaming down his skin, surrounding him.
In a flash my entire world shatters at the thought of him dead.
"Adrian!"
I scramble to my feet and run forward, not caring about anything but getting to him.
Victor is there, his gun raised, scanning the room. When he hears me, he looks at me, his eyes wide.
"Elena, get back in the room."
"No!"
I reach Adrian and drop beside him, my hands going immediately to his shoulder, pressing down hard.
His blood is warm and there's so much of it.
"Adrian, look at me. Please look at me."
His eyes are open but they don't look like his eyes. I'm just thankful he's alive.
"Leni..."
"I'm here. I'm right here, baby."
Victor crouches beside us, his hand on my shoulder. "You need to hide. Now."
"No."
"Elena."
"I said no!"
I press harder on Adrian's shoulder, and he winces, his jaw clenching.
"It's okay," Adrian says, his voice rough. "I'm okay."
"No, you're not." My voice cracks. "There's too much blood, Adrian. There's too much."
"Hey." His right hand comes up, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. "I'm okay."
But I don't know if he really is. His skin is pale, the red standing out too much across his skin and his breathing seems shallow. I can't lose him. I just got him back.
Blood soaks through my fingers, no matter how hard I press.
Victor stands, his gun sweeping the room. "Fine. Stay with him. I'm clearing the perimeter. Nu te mi?ca."
"Victor."
But he's already gone, disappearing into the smoke.
I hear more gunshots, but they don't matter as much as I am too focused.
Eventually they stop as I hold Adrian's gaze, my hands shaking against his shoulder.
"You're going to be okay," I say as tears start. "You have to be okay. I just got back to you."
"I will be."
"You better not be lying to me."
His mouth forms half a smile. "Never."
Footsteps pound toward us. I tense, my body coiling, ready to fight, to scream, to do whatever it takes, but it's Victor.
His suit is torn with blood splattered across his chest.
"Get some clothes for him and whatever you need. We're leaving."
"I need to stop this blood first," I say.
Victor nods and runs into the kitchen and comes out with dish towels. "Use these for now," he says, handing them to me.
I don't hesitate. I take them and wrap them around his shoulder and he winces as I tie it tightly.
"Sorry, I need to stop the blood."
He nods. "Don't forget about the other."
"What? What the hell do you mean other?" I ask.
He moves his arm and I see the other gunshot wound through his bicep.
"Jesus Christ," I say and start wrapping with a towel. "I couldn't see it with all the, you know," I say, finishing tying.
"Come on, guys," Victor says.
I look down at Adrian. "Stay here."
I run back to the bedroom, grabbing Adrian's bag from the floor. I shove everything inside: clothes, shoes, anything I can fit. Then sprint back to the hallway.
Victor is already helping Adrian up, his arm wrapped around Adrian's waist, supporting his weight.
Adrian's face is tight with pain, but he doesn't make a sound.
Victor looks at me and then nods. "Let's go."
We move toward the front door, stepping over bodies, broken glass crunching beneath our feet.
The cold air hits me the moment we step outside, biting through my thin clothes, but I don't stop.
The Rolls-Royce is still parked in the driveway, untouched.
Victor opens the back door and helps Adrian inside. I run around and get in on the other side. I toss the bag onto the floor and immediately press my hands back against his shoulder.
Adrian hisses through his teeth, his head falling back against the seat.
"I know, I know," I whisper. "I'm sorry, but you're supposed to apply pressure, I think."
Victor slides into the driver's seat and floors it.
The tires spin in the snow before finding traction and then the car jumps forward.
Adrian is shaking and I realize it's probably because he's half naked.
I rip open the bag, pulling out a jacket to wrap around him.
"Lean forward so I can put this on you," I tell Adrian.
He shoots air out of his nose, but he does and I wrap the jacket around him. I then pull out some sweatpants that he has.
"I'm going to put these on. I don't want you being cold," I say and start putting his foot through the legs.
"You sound like my grandma," he says, lifting his leg. "Too cold and you'll get sick and die."
I roll my eyes. "Shut up and give me your other leg."
He does and I shimmy the pants on him and pull them up, my face now close to his.
"You're doing good," Adrian says, his voice quieter now.
"Please, I don't know what I'm doing," I say just as Victor takes a corner so fast I'm thrown against Adrian.
He grunts, his hand gripping my arm to steady me.
"Sorry about that," I say.
"Don't be, it's my brother's reckless driving," he says, the last part of the sentence loud enough for Victor to hear.
"Uh, one, fuck you, and two, we'll be at the airport in forty five minutes. They'll have some med stuff on board. Don't die before then."
Adrian nods. "Okay, I'll wait until after."
"You guys. This isn't funny," I say and lean back. "Has the bleeding stopped?"
"I think so," he says.
"Okay," I say and look down at my hands. They're a deep crimson color. Adrian's dried blood coats my fingers. I flex my fingers, seeing the subtle cracks appear.
Just like everything recently, it all just seems so unreal.
Eventually, we reach the small airport in what feels like seconds and hours all at once.
Victor pulls up to the tarmac where a private jet is waiting.
We all hop out of the car, Victor helping me get Adrian out.
The pilot steps out, confusion written across his face.
"Did you get the papers?" he asks, looking between us.
"We're leaving now," Victor says, his tone firm. "Fuck the papers."
The pilot hesitates, his eyes flicking to Adrian, to the blood soaking through the bandages.
"Okay, boss," the pilot says and steps aside.
We climb the stairs, and the moment we're inside, the pilot seals the door. We move Adrian to a seat and set him down just as the engines roar to life. I sit down beside him as the jet starts moving.
In the distance, we hear sirens and just look at one another.
The pilot yells back to us, "They are telling me to turn off the engine."
Victor walks toward the front of the plane.
"Go. I'll deal with whatever happens. My brother's life is at stake here," he says.
The pilot says something into the radio and the engines grow louder and then we really start moving.
The plane lifts off and Victor grabs onto the seat as he reaches for the first aid kit from a side compartment.
He staggers back to us and takes the seat across from Adrian and me and hands me the kit.
I open it like I know what I am doing and rummage through it.
The plane makes a sharp turn and the kit goes flying onto the ground, its contents spilling everywhere.
"Shit," I yell and dive to the floor collecting them.
The plane levels out and Victor bends down to help.
"Let's get his jacket off to take a look," he says.
We get it off and then Victor peels back the blood soaked rags.
Adrian's shoulder doesn't look too good. The bullet tore through muscle and tissue, leaving a jagged, gaping wound.
My stomach twists, but I force myself to watch as Victor cleans it, because I want to be able to do it next time.
"You're lucky," Victor says. "Missed the bone and artery."
"Oh great, it feels real lucky," Adrian says.
Victor laughs. "At least the bullet didn't take your humor," he says and starts wrapping a fresh bandage around the wound.
He then looks at me. "Just like that, okay? You wrap his bicep now," he says and hands me the bandages.
I'm scared but I take it and shift in front of Adrian as Victor steps aside.
"Ah, a much better view now," Adrian says.
I'm too focused to acknowledge him and I just mimic what Victor did.
When I'm done, I stand up next to Victor and we both look down at Adrian.
"You'll live," Victor says. "But you need a real doctor, obviously."
"I'm fine," Adrian says, wincing as he repositions himself on the seat.
Victor laughs. "Yeah, no biggie."
He then looks at me. "You got it from here," he says and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.
I should too, but I don't want to leave him so I just take a seat and use the wipes in the first aid kit.
"There's aspirin in here, do you want some for the pain?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm okay."
Victor passes us and he's on his phone now talking to someone. I can't make out everything, but the last part I do hear.
"We're landing in Bra?ov," he says into the phone. "Not Bucharest. Have someone meet us and we'll need a med team."
He ends the call and plops into a chair and leans back. He catches me staring and his expression softens. "He'll be fine, Elena. I promise."
I force a fake smile and turn back to Adrian who must be able to tell I'm nervous.
"It's just a scratch, my angel," he says. "Doesn't even hurt much."
"Liar."
He shrugs. "Okay, maybe a little. It's not something I would want to feel every day."
He leans over and kisses me and grabs my hand with his good arm and squeezes it.
"How are you doing?" he asks.
I stare at Adrian, at the blood seeping through the bandages, at the way his chest rises and falls, I'm sure too slowly.
And suddenly, I can't hold it in anymore.
The vault I've kept locked for eighteen months, the one I've refused to open even to myself, cracks wide and I know right now might not even be the right time, but he needs to know, just in case anything happens to him. He needs to know.