Chapter 13 - Valentina
I wake up to a hand clamped tightly over my mouth, stifling any chance of a scream. It's not Dmitri. He doesn't smell like flowers. I thrash against the iron grip, but the assailant doesn't budge. Terror seizes me as the unmistakable sound of gunshots echoes through the house. Something is wrong.
I summon every ounce of strength and drive my elbow back into the man's ribs. He grunts, and his hold loosens for a split second—just enough for me to twist and deliver a crushing blow to his groin. He doubles over, and I break free, bolting from the room.
I dart down the hallway, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor as I flee from the intruder. My heart thunders in my chest, fear coursing through my veins. I reach the top of the staircase and risk a glance back—the man is closing in fast, a menacing look twisting his features.
Before I can react, his arm snakes around my waist, jerking me backwards. The muzzle of a gun presses against my temple, and a low voice hisses in my ear. "Don't try anything funny."
I freeze, my body rigid with terror. Slowly, he forces me down the stairs, the gun digging into my skin with every step. As we reach the bottom, my gaze locks with Dmitri's. His eyes widen, then narrow into slits of rage as he takes in the scene.
"Blyad!" he snarls, fists clenching.
Dmitri's men have their weapons drawn, forming a tense standoff with the invading gang. The man behind me chuckles darkly.
"I thought Dmitri Ivanov died years ago." His tone turns mocking. "But I'm sure even you must be surprised you’re alive."
Dmitri's jaw tightens, his glare burning with hatred. "Don't say my father's name, you piece of shit."
The man laughs, the sound grating against my ears. "You're still a small boy, Dmitri. You shouldn't have thought you could play games with your elders." He pauses. Then I can hear the sneer in his voice. "Micah was a foolish choice." The words roll off his tongue with a mocking lilt. "With just a small threat, he started blabbing like a fish without water."
Dmitri's piercing gaze remains fixed on the man restraining me. The intruder continues. "You want to know why Ivanov died? He took Sergei's diamond."
"Don't lie," Dmitri growls. "My father never would have put our family in jeopardy like that."
The man barks out a laugh. "That's true. He was too much of a coward. We knew and Sergei knew as well that Ivanov didn't take it. But Sergei needed to make an example out of someone."
Dmitri's face pales. "An example?" he echoes, his voice strained.
"Da, we decided who would get killed by pulling straws. Can you imagine? And your father's name was the shortest. Ivanov was just unlucky."
A feral growl rips from Dmitri's throat, and he takes a threatening step forward. The man instantly tightens his grip, jerking me backwards. "Calm down," he warns, "or I'll put a bullet in Valentina. Sergei said we can do whatever with her as long as we get to you."
The man's vile words cut deep, reopening wounds I thought had healed. "Dmitri..." I whisper, my voice trembling. He told me the truth about his family, but to hear the cruel details spoken so callously turns my stomach.
Dmitri's face twists into a mask of pure rage. "I'm going to kill you," he seethes, taking another step forward.
I feel the man throw his head back and let out a mocking laugh. It's abruptly cut off as a stream of blood spews from his mouth. My stomach turns as the warm liquid splashes across my face, and I let out a piercing scream.
The man's grip goes slack, and he crumbles to the floor, just a dead weight collapsing on top of me. I catch a glimpse of the bullet wound in his neck before my vision is obscured by his lifeless body pinning me down.
Dmitri rushes over, gripping the man's shoulders and wrenching him off me with a grunt. He kneels beside me, tenderly brushing my hair away from my face with a shaking hand. "Valentina... are you okay?" His voice is thick with worry.
I can't find the words to respond, the trauma of what just happened rendering me mute. Gunshots still ring in my ears, and the metallic stench of blood overwhelms my senses.
Dmitri's brow furrows, his eyes searching my face urgently. "Valentina? Say something, please," he pleads, cupping my cheek.
Slowly, I force a nod, the simple motion seeming to take every ounce of my effort. It's not enough for him.
"I need to hear you say it," he insists, the usual intensity in his gaze tempered by fear for me.
Summoning my voice feels like an immense struggle, but I manage a hoarse whisper. "Yes... I'm okay."
I look up at Dmitri's urging, my gaze landing on Alexei standing across the room, gun still raised from where he fired the fatal shot. Relief washes over me as I realize he saved me from that monster's clutches.
"Run to him. He'll get you out of here," Dmitri says, his voice strained but insistent.
I shake my head vehemently, clinging to him tighter. "No, I'm not leaving you."
Dmitri's jaw clenches, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "Go with Alexei. I'll be fine, but I need you safe."
"No!" I cry out, burying my face against his chest as tears prick my eyes. I can't leave him, not after everything we've been through. The thought of being separated again is unbearable.
Before I can protest further, strong arms encircle me, prying me away from Dmitri's embrace. I thrash wildly as Alexei lifts me off the ground, carrying me away despite my struggles.
"Let me go!" I scream, pounding my fists against his broad chest. "Dmitri!"
Alexei doesn't falter, keeping a firm grip as he makes his way toward the exit. I catch one last glimpse of Dmitri's anguished expression before we're out the door.
Alexei deposits me unceremoniously into the backseat of a waiting car. I scramble to get out, but he leans across me, fastening the seatbelt tightly.
"Dmitri can only focus when you're not there," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "Do you understand?"
I want to protest, to scream and rage against this separation, but Alexei's unwavering gaze reminds me of how dire our situation is. Reluctantly, I give a small nod.
Seeming satisfied, Alexei slams the door shut and rounds the car to the driver's side. The engine roars to life, and we peel off, leaving Dmitri and the carnage behind.
I try not to look at myself in the mirror, but the sight of blood draining out of the rag and swirling into the sink makes my stomach churn. The last thing I need is to empty what little is left in it. My hands tremble slightly as I wring out the rag, taking deep breaths through my nose to steady myself before finally glancing up.
My skin is the palest I've ever seen it. I look at my still-flat stomach and rub it gently, trying to offer some comfort to the baby growing inside me. One side of my face is still smeared with blood, and my left ear rings constantly, making me wince. A bruise darkens my right temple where the man had dug the gun into my skin. As I watch the last remnants of blood wash from my hair, I wait until the water runs clear before turning off the faucet. Reaching for a towel, I dry my hair, feeling a strange sense of numbness.
The front doors burst open, startling me out of my thoughts. Relief floods through me as I hear Dmitri's voice calling out urgently.
"Where is she?" he demands.
I rush out of the bathroom, nearly slipping on a small puddle of water. "I'm right here," I call out, coming to a halt as soon as I see him.
Dmitri stands in the doorway, his eyes scanning me from afar. He doesn't blink, his gaze intense and unwavering. For a moment, we simply stare at each other, both assessing the damage—both visible and invisible—that this ordeal has inflicted on us.
His eyes soften slightly when he sees I'm unharmed beyond a few bruises and cuts. He strides over to me, his movements controlled but filled with urgency. "Valentina," he breathes, reaching out to cup my face gently with his hands.
I lean into his touch, feeling tears slip down my cheeks despite my efforts to hold them back. "I'm okay," I whisper, though it feels like I'm trying to convince myself more than him.
Dmitri's thumb brushes away the tears before they can fall any further. "You shouldn't have been involved in this," he says softly, regret lacing his voice.
"But I am," I reply, placing my hand over his on my cheek. "And so are you." My voice wavers slightly.
He nods slowly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and determination. "I won't let anything happen to you," he promises.
For a moment, we just stand there in silence, holding on to each other like lifelines in this stormy sea we've found ourselves in. Despite everything that's happened—everything that will happen—I think we may get out of this.