✧ 41 ✧
A place filled with warmth. A comfortable soft surface underneath him and a cozy cover on top. Calmer breathing, lesser pain, and a disappearing headache.
What's happening?
In his half-waking hour, Ilya heard the distorted speech of people. He couldn't make up what they were saying, but along with them came a heavy smell of cigarettes.
Ilya scrunched his nose before slowly opening his weary eyes.
The first thing he saw was a chandelier. Its soft lights traced the vibrant colors of his irises that he once lost. Shades of green and blue, like a forest meeting an ocean with a shining golden sun in its center.
Then he saw the IVs attached to his arm. A clear bag of liquid was hanging right beside him. The bag was still half full. Ilya didn't try to remove it as he knew it was the thing that saved him from falling into a diabetic coma.
His eyes roamed the rest of this place; a three-seat sofa he was sleeping on, striped patterns of wallpaper decorated the walls, cozy furniture with colorful fabrics, sheer curtains pulled at the corners to show the sight of heavy snowfall from the windows, two leather recliner chairs were facing—
Ilya's eyes abruptly stopped.
Windows!
They went wide and returned to what was built behind those two curtains. He wasn't mistaken. This place had windows.
Where am I?
He recalled the last place he had been to; that awful hospital, with Beast looming over him, like a shadow he couldn't outrun.
His heart rate elevated for a mere second. Then a shuddering breath left his pale lips.
This place is nice.
He struggled to keep his eyes open. Sleepy, but not sick anymore, Ilya wanted to forget about this town and rest. However, his survival instinct kicked in when he realized he wasn't alone.
Two distinct voices entered his space.
"I'm telling you," a voice said with a South Asian accent. "Those filthy Russians are behind all of this!"
Ilya quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be sleeping. It took him a lot of willpower to lower his heart rate and his breathing to a calmer tune. Especially after he heard how angry this person was about the Russians, his father's nationality.
"I swear, if I ever see one, I'll send a bullet right through their eyes."
Ilya heard a weighty thud on a squeaking chair, followed by a grunt from that man.
Then came a voice Ilya recognized immediately—Beast's voice.
"Is that why your big ass is always sitting on this damn chair?"
Beast chuckled before he grunted too and sat down on another squeaky chair.
"Well, what else am I supposed to do, man? I mean, look at me."
"Yeah." Beast answered with a sigh, "I'm terribly sorry. You had it worse."
"Ah, don't worry about it."
Ilya was torn between his fear and curiosity. He wanted to peek at the other person and see what he looked like, but the fear of Beast catching him awake was overwhelming.
If Beast saw him healthy enough, he would force him to play another one of his sick games.
Ilya gulped. Then he remembered the layout of this room. The two recliners were facing a window, so that meant Beast and this other person gave their backs to him. They wouldn't notice him... unless they decided to look behind them.
With one last breath of courage that calmed his heart, Ilya half-opened his eyes and stared at the two men.
Beast was in his human form, sitting comfortably on the recliner with his arms crossed behind his head. The other man was obese. The chair barely fit him. He was wearing a baseball cap to cover his bald head.
Next to the fat man was a rifle.
Ilya's breathing accelerated. He remembered the shooter when he first came to this town. That must be him. What did Charlie say his name was?
"Shhh," Beast said with a raised index finger before turning.
Ilya shut his eyes just before Beast spotted him, and hoped that he wouldn't call his bluff.
Everyone was quiet for a while.
Then the other man asked, "What is it?"
Beast stayed silent for another second, then said, "I thought he was waking up. I guess he's having another nightmare. Poor thing."
Ilya relaxed his tensed muscles when his bluff worked. Then he focused on listening to what the two men had to say, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip away.
"Excuse me, Greg," Beast said before leaving the comfort of his chair. "Nature calls."
"Go ahead," Greg said. "It's good to have you back, Billy."
Ilya half-opened one eye just in time to see Billy the Beast patting Greg's shoulder.
"It's good to be back, buddy."
And then Beast left for another room.
Ilya turned his head in Greg's direction. He carefully studied the condition of the obese man and realized, Now's my chance. Even if Greg saw him, there was no way a guy like him would be fast enough to catch him.
There was a door right behind him. It was closer to Ilya than to Greg. And just his luck! The keys were already placed in the keyhole.
That's my way out!
Ilya quietly sat up on the couch. No sign of Beast, and Greg didn't suspect a thing.
So far so good.
Ilya pulled the IVs from his arm and suppressed a groan of pain from both using his broken hand and the injection wounds.
He breathed through the pain and lowered his legs to the carpet.
Once he balanced himself up on two feet, he began tiptoeing towards the door, occasionally turning his head to check on Greg.
Greg had a cloud of smoke surrounding him. He was the source of the cigarette smell.
Ilya reached the door. His heart pounded hard against his ribcage. He tried to calm himself, to avoid Beast hearing his erratic breathing. He needed to act fast before Beast came back from his bathroom break
He turned the key.
Click!
That was a loud click, loud enough to catch Greg's attention.
"Hey!" Greg shouted. "Stop!"
Goosebumps spread on Ilya's arms. He pulled the door open and didn't even turn to the angry man shouting behind him, trying so hard to get off his large chair.
Time to run.
Once Ilya stepped one foot beyond the apartment threshold, a mechanical sound operated, and in that split second, someone pulled him back.
Smash!
Ilya screamed just before falling on his back with someone on top of him, covering him in a hug. He opened his eyes and saw Beast. His heart almost stopped from being this close to the werewolf.
"Get away from me!" Ilya yelled, pushing and punching. "Get the fuck away from me!"
Beast sat up on all four and sent a glare at Ilya beneath him that forced him to quiet down. Then he looked back at the door.
A cloud of dust and splinters of wood were in the air. Once the dust cleared, they were able to see what had happened. A sharp tool had fallen right outside the doorstep, like a guillotine, snapping the wooden floor in half.
That could've been me, Ilya realized and shivered. Then his eyes shifted to Beast. If it weren't for him, he would've been dead.
"Don't ever do that again." Greg arrived late to the scene, panting. "The whole building is booby-trapped. I set them myself."
Ilya snapped his head up towards Greg. When he saw his face, he screamed.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"