Chapter 5 #2
An arm suddenly locked around my neck, cutting off my breath.
“Ti ucciderò, troia!” (I'll kill you, bitch!) the brute snarled behind me as his arm tightened around my throat. “Zia!” Rafael screamed, but Mikhail stepped in front of him, eyes wide with terror. Fear. They were afraid and so was I. I was terrified. I didn’t want to die, damn it.
I lifted the knife, trying to reach him, but he dodged and hurled me violently across the beds.
I crashed to the floor, the knife slipping from my grip.
Shit. I groaned and tried to push myself up, searching blindly for the weapon in the darkness.
Suddenly a hand clamped around my throat again and my back slammed into the wall.
“Morirai, stronza,” (you're going to die, bitch,) he hissed, his face close to mine.
I tried to pry his grip open, my hands clutching his wrist, but it was useless.
He growled and slammed me harder against the wall.
Pain exploded at the back of my skull. His second hand closed around my neck, and soon my feet were no longer touching the ground.
Air vanished. Panic clawed through me. He slammed my over and over the wall, my vision blurring, darkening at the edges.
I tried to reach his face, but he shoved my arms away with his shoulders.
This was it.
So this was how I was going to die. It wasn’t so bad, dying while protecting my nephews. A fitting end. A heroic one, even. Far better than I deserved. A good end for a coward like me.
Then a scream tore through the haze, and my body crashed to the floor.
I dragged in a huge, burning breath and started coughing violently, my throat tearing apart with every gasp.
My throat hurt like hell. I opened my eyes as my vision slowly cleared.
The brute was screaming, clutching his thigh, the knife I had dropped was now buried deep in the back of it.
My gaze slid toward the boys, and a sob escaped me when I saw Mikhail standing there, his hand smeared with blood, his eyes wide and frozen on the man.
He was shaking. “You little bastard!” the man roared, yanking the knife from his leg before turning toward Mikhail.
“I’ll kill you first!” He limped forward, raising the bloodied blade high. No. No !
I pushed myself up, my legs trembling but holding.
Thank God, I moved fast, throwing myself between the man and the children.
My hand closed around the blade as he brought it down.
Pain exploded, white-hot, blinding. I felt my skin tear, blood spill, but I held on.
I wanted to scream, but my throat was too damaged for any sound to come out.
The tip of the blade grazed Mikhail’s forehead.
He didn’t move, his eyes wide with terror as the others cried behind him.
The man snarled, his gaze locked on mine, and pushed harder.
Pain ripped through me and I sobbed, but I didn’t let go.
My grip tightened around the slick blade.
If someone had to die today, it would be me.
No one was touching those children. Not ever.
A gunshot rang out.
The man collapsed onto us, making the boys scream.
I released the knife as it clattered to the floor.
Heavy footsteps rushed in, and a sob of relief tore from my chest when I heard Nikolai calling Mikhail’s name.
They were safe, the children were safe. Nikolai was alive, which meant my sister was alive too.
The adrenaline drained all at once, and my body followed.
Pain flooded everywhere, my cheek, my back, my throat, my hand, my head pounding like a stampede inside my skull.
Suddenly the dead weight was lifted off me, the stench of cigarettes fading.
Warm hands cupped my face. “Sienna? Sienna, look at me. Come on, moya Angel, focus on my voice.” The voice was distant, muffled.
I forced my eyes open and found blue, cold, calm. Sasha. He was there. He had come.
I tried to sit up, clutching my injured hand, “I’m fine,” I whispered, though it was far from true. Everything doubled, two Sashas, which was definitely too many, even if thinking about it, in bed might yield something interesting, oh fuck.
More footsteps echoed as my body began to shake harder, the last traces of adrenaline draining away. A warm hand gently took my injured one, and through my blurred vision I saw my sister. She was safe. Thank God.
“Sienna, you need stitches,” she sobbed, her eyes full of panic,“I’m fine,” I repeated, or thought I did, before everything went black.
The pain came back first. My head felt like it was going to split open.
I groaned, my throat burning as if I’d swallowed fire.
Damn it, he hadn’t missed. “Sienna?” a voice called softly as cool fingers brushed my burning forehead.
It felt so good. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were heavy,“Sienna? Angel, open your eyes”.
I obeyed slowly. Blue. Cold. Calm. “Sas…” my voice broke into a coughing fit, my throat flaring with pain.
“Easy, easy, sweetheart. Don’t try to speak.
Your throat…” he closed his eyes, his trembling hand grabbing gently my injured one. Sasha… trembling ?
“Your vocal cords were damaged,” he continued softly.
“The doctor said you won’t be able to speak for a while.
But you’ll recover. You’re going to heal.
You will.” he repeated it, as if trying to convincing himself.
My fingers tightened around his, and I lifted my other hand, the one with the tubes, toward his face.
His eyes followed the movement and he leaned in immediately, my cold, tingling fingers brushed his warm cheek.
He caught my wrist gently and pressed a kiss into my palm, eyes closing, brow drawn tight.
He breathed me in, and a tear slipped from my eye as my aching throat tightened.
“I’m okay,” I whispered hoarsely, he let my fingers slide into his hair, drawing his face closer,“I’m okay,” I repeated and he nodded slowly, eyes locked on mine.
I brushed my lips against his, barely there, and the shaky breath that left him made another tear fall.
“I was scared,” I whispered. “So scared”.
His jaw tightened as he leaned his forehead against mine, trembling hands cupping my face.
“I know. I know, Angel, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there,” he repeated softly while I cried against his warmth, against his scent, against his presence.
Just this once. Just for a moment. To rest. To breathe.
My sister opened the car door when Roman stopped in front of the villa, but before I could step out, Sasha appeared and lifted me into his arms, carrying me inside. Home.
I closed my eyes and curled against his warmth as he carried me in.
Voices greeted us, Velma, Sena, Nikolai, but I was too exhausted to react.
I might have been drifting in and out already.
I shivered when cool air brushed my skin.
“Hmm”. “Shh…everything’s okay, Sweatheart.
Everything’s fine,” Sasha murmured as he pulled the covers over me.
I was wearing only a white T-shirt and cotton pants.
I shivered as my bare feet met the cool sheets.
“I’ll ask the girls to make you some warm soup.
It’ll help,” he said, straightening up to leave.
I caught the sleeve of his sweatshirt before he could go and he froze, then sat beside me at once, taking my hand.
“What is it? Are you in pain? Do you need painkillers?”
I shook my head gently, with everything they had given me at the hospital, I barely felt anything right now.
“The…” I tried to speak, wincing, I needed something to write with.
My phone, where was it? “Wait,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app before handing it to me.
I typed quickly with one hand and showed him the screen.
The boys?
“They’re all fine, Sienna. Everyone’s okay. Everyone except you,” he added the last part in almost a whipser, as if he was scolding himself. His gaze flicked to my throat, then returned to mine. I squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile before typing again.
Are you going to cry?
His eyes widened, completely caught off guard, which amused me far more than it should have. I pointed at the tissue box on the nightstand and typed again:
You can use those. I’ll find something else for my pedicure.
A corner of his mouth lifted slowly, his gaze darkening as his hand slipped beneath the blanket to gently grasp my ankle.
“Pedicure? No need. I like them just the way they are,” he murmured.
My eyes widened as heat rushed through me, memories surfacing far too vividly.
Seriously… that was what he remembered? I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
“You…” I tried to say, but the words dissolved into a coughing fit.
“Sienna, breathe…shit,” Sasha panicked, sliding his arm behind my back to help me sit up.
He grabbed the bottle beside the tissues and handed it to me.
I pulled my hand back to take it, then froze at the sight of blood staining my palm.
Double shit.
“Sienna?” his voice tightened as his eyes locked onto my hand.
“It’s fine,” I whispered hoarsely, forcing myself to drink a few sips.
The metallic taste made me grimace, but I swallowed anyway, he eased me back down, exhaustion crashing over me.
“It’s going to be okay, Sienna. Everything will be okay.
I promise,” Sasha murmured, his rough voice soft as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
The last thing I saw before drifting off was the darkness of his eyes watching over me.