Chapter 42 Katerina #2
Ares's hand moves so fast I barely register the motion. The flash of steel catches the dim light, and then I hear the thud of metal cutting into flesh.
Sebastian staggers backward, looking down at the knife handle protruding from his side. Blood leaks out quickly across his expensive shirt, spreading like spilled wine.
"You—" Sebastian gasps, but that's all he manages before Ares charges.
My husband moves with terrifying speed. His shoulder connects with Sebastian's chest, driving him into the stone wall with such force that the impact knocks the breath from Sebastian's lungs in a painful wheeze.
Ares doesn't give him a second to recover.
His fist connects with Sebastian's jaw—once, twice, three times—each blow punctuated by the wet crack of breaking bone.
Sebastian tries to fight back, throwing a wild punch that Ares easily dodges before countering with a vicious uppercut that snaps Sebastian's head back against the wall.
Sebastian somehow finds the strength to lunge forward, tackling Ares and sending them both crashing into the opposite wall. The shelves beside them collapse, jars and bottles shattering on the floor. The knife buried in Sebastian's side dislodges, clattering to the ground as they struggle.
For a terrifying moment, Sebastian gets the upper hand, pinning Ares, his forearm pressed against my husband's throat. He pulls a small pistol from his pocket and aims it at Ares's head.
"Your wife can watch you die," Sebastian spits, blood and saliva spraying from his mouth.
Ares's hand shoots up, grabbing Sebastian's wrist and twisting it with such brutal force that the gun drops from Sebastian's useless fingers and he howls in pain. The sound, however, is cut off abruptly as Ares's forehead smashes into his face.
Blood erupts from Sebastian's shattered nose, spraying across both their faces. Ares follows with a devastating knee to Sebastian's stomach, doubling him over, then grabs him by the hair and slams his face down onto his rising knee.
Sebastian slumps against the wall, legs buckling. Ares grabs him by the throat, lifting him almost off his feet, and hurls him across the room, sending him crashing into a wooden table.
Knowing he's going to lose, he tries to plea.
"Please," Sebastian chokes, crawling backward, leaving a smear of blood behind him. "I'll give you anything. Territory, money—"
Ares walks toward him as he bends down and picks up the knife that had fallen earlier.
"You touched my wife," Ares says. "I can't allow you to live now."
Sebastian's back hits the wall. There's nowhere left to go.
Ares lunges forward, grabbing Sebastian by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The knife sinks deep into Sebastian's chest.
Sebastian gasps, eyes wide.
Ares pulls the knife out and stabs again.
And again.
And again.
"This is for every second she was down here," Ares growls, each word separated by another thrust of the blade.
Blood spatters across Ares's face, across the wall, across the floor. Sebastian's struggles grow weaker with each blow until finally, his arms fall limply to his sides, eyes staring vacantly at nothing.
Ares delivers one final blow, jamming the knife under his chin.
Sebastian falls to the ground. Ares turns to look at me, and I watch as awareness returns to his eyes. The cold emptiness recedes, replaced by recognition, then concern, then anguish as he takes in my beaten state.
"Katerina," he yells, rushing to my side, dropping the knife beside him and falling to his knees.
Blood drips from his knuckles, a mixture of his and Sebastian's.
"Fuck—did they hurt you? Tell me where, baby, tell me—" His voice breaks as his fingers gently cradle my face, turning it to examine the bruises on my cheek, the split in my lip. His eyes are wild with panic, searching my body for injuries he can't see.
I shake my head, wincing at the pain that shoots through my skull. "I'm okay," I say, though my body screams otherwise.
I am okay because he's here. Because I'm not alone in this basement anymore with men who wanted to use me, hurt me, kill me. The rest—the bruises, the cuts, the aching ribs—all of it can heal.
Ares doesn't look convinced.
His hands are gentle as he cuts the zip ties with the same blade used to kill my kidnapper.
I wince as blood rushes back into my fingers, pins and needles stabbing through the numbness. He moves to the ties around my ankles, severing them with one clean slice.
The moment I'm free, he gathers me into his arms like he's terrified I'll vanish if he doesn't hold tight enough. His arms encircle me completely, one hand cradling the back of my head, pressing it against his chest where I can feel his heart thumping beneath his blood-soaked shirt.
I smell his familiar scent and something breaks inside me, a dam I'd built up during the hours of captivity, telling myself I needed to be strong, that I couldn't break.
Now, wrapped in his embrace, I finally do.
The sobs I've been holding in crash out all at once, violently, like they're being torn from my chest. My hands clutch at his shirt, bunching the fabric between my fingers. I'm shaking so hard I can barely breathe between wracking sobs.
"I didn't—I couldn't—" I try to speak, but words fragment between gasps.
"Shh," Ares whispers, his lips against my temple. One hand strokes my hair, matted with sweat and blood. "I'm here. I'm here. I've got you. I'm never letting go."
He pulls back just enough to press his forehead against mine. His thumb gently wipes a tear from my cheek, careful to avoid the bruising.
"I thought they'd killed you," I choke out, the fear I'd been suppressing finally spilling over. "When I heard the gunshots, Dimitri, the lights go out…"
"He's alive. Everyone's alive," Ares says. "Except the men who took you. They're all dead now."
There's no remorse in his tone, no hint that he feels anything about the lives he's taken to reach me. And I feel nothing for them either. Not the men who struck me, who threatened me, who planned to hurt me just to punish Ares.
Ares's eyes roam over my face, cataloging every mark, every smear of blood. Fury and tenderness wage war in his expression. He presses his lips to my forehead, my temple, the unbruised part of my cheek, like he's trying to kiss away the hurt.
Then his mouth finds mine, desperate and raw, as if he's trying to make up for every second he wasn't there to protect me.
His kiss isn't gentle. It's not careful. It's life and death and everything between, a confirmation we're back together.
I kiss him back just as desperately, clinging to his shoulders. Pain shoots through my split lip, but I don't care. I need this more than I need the absence of pain.
Blood and tears mix between us, but neither of us pulls away until we're both gasping for breath. When we break apart, Ares brushes the hair out of my face.
"The thought of ever losing you," he says, "It can never happen. I'll always need you. I love you, Katerina."
My hand reaches up and cups his face. Tears of joy stream down my face.
"I love you, too. Ares. Now. Always. Forever," I say softly, looking into his eyes.
We embrace and kiss once more, this time it's as if we're sealing our love, cementing it in place forever.
Ares looks at me for a moment. "Can you stand?" he asks, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it.
I'm not sure, but I nod anyway. He helps me to my feet, but my legs, numb from being bound for hours, buckle beneath me. Before I can even begin to fall, Ares scoops me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.
"I've got you," he says again.
I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face against his shoulder. The warmth of his skin seeps into mine, chasing away the cold that had settled into my bones during the hours in this cellar.
As he carries me toward the door, I look back one last time at Sebastian's lifeless body, sprawled in his own blood. I feel no satisfaction, no triumph—just a dull acceptance that this is our world. Violence begets violence. Blood demands blood.
Ares kicks open the remains of the door, stepping over debris and bodies as he carries me up from the darkness.
I squint against the sudden light—not sunshine, not yet, but brighter than the dim bulb of my prison.
The restaurant is in ruins, tables splintered, chairs overturned, bodies strewn across the floor.
Theo appears in the doorway ahead of us, gun still in hand, face smeared with blood and dirt. Relief floods his expression when he sees me alive in Ares's arms.
"Get the doctor," Ares commands, "Now."
Theo nods and is already barking orders into a phone as he leads the way through the chaos outside.
I tighten my arms around Ares's neck, my anchor in this fucked-up storm.
The light grows brighter as we near the exit, and I swear I can smell the sea, can hear waves crashing against the shore somewhere beyond the building.
As we pass through the final doorway, into the light, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, I can't help but smile.
He came for me.
My husband.
My protector.