Chapter 18 #2
Her eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating, the moment they landed on me.
Her hand moved instinctively—settling over the slight curve of her abdomen, protective, almost possessive, as though my presence alone posed some kind of threat to it.
Her voice cut through the space between us.
“Shouldn’t she be on the operating table right now?”
“Vincenzo promised me her heart would be taken for me today.”
A pause.
Her lips curled slightly.
The urge to react—to strike, to retaliate, to wipe that smug certainty off her face—flared so sharply it made my palm tingle.
My fingers twitched.
But I forced myself to stay still. Forced myself to breathe.
She wasn’t the one who had broken me.
“Elena...”
Renzo’s voice broke the moment.
My gaze shifted to him.
His eyes scanned me slowly.
Taking in the gauze.
The limp.
The bruises darkening along my jaw.
Something in his expression tightened.
Not guilt alone—but something more conflicted.
I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”
The words came out quietly.
I studied him for a moment.
Then gave a small nod.
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t.
But saying anything else would take more energy than I had left.
Violet’s head snapped toward him immediately.
“Renzo, why the hell are you feeling sorry for her?” she snapped.
“You know what her father did to Vincenzo. You’re supposed to hate her with the same kind of fire Vincenzo does—if your loyalty to him still means anything.”
A beat.
“I’ll excuse you both,” I said quietly, turning slightly as I prepared to walk past them.
I didn’t have the energy for this.
Not now.
Not like this.
But before I could take another step—Violet moved.
Her hand shot out and clamped around my wrist.
Hard.
The grip was sudden.
Forceful.
Too tight.
Pain exploded instantly up my arm, radiating through every nerve in my body.
My breath caught sharply.
I stumbled.
My knees nearly buckled under the sudden jolt.
A sharp wince slipped through my lips as fresh pain lanced through my already battered body.
Every instinct screamed at me to pull away.
But I didn’t panic.
I didn’t lash out blindly.
Instead—I turned.
Slowly.
And looked at her.
My voice, when it came, was quiet.
“Get your filthy hands off me,” I said, voice calm but sharp.
“You really don’t want to provoke me right now.”
My wrist twisted with deliberate slowness.
She resisted.
But not enough.
I pulled free.
Not aggressively.
Just enough to reclaim control.
To remind her—and myself—that I still had some of it left.
My gaze didn’t waver.
“You already lied about me once,” I said, voice steady despite the ache.
“Claimed I made you bleed... that I almost caused you to lose your baby—when I didn’t even touch you.”
A pause.
The words sharpened.
“This time... I might actually do it. Tear that baby from your body, let you bleed to death—and me? I'd pay no price. Nothing would touch me.”
Her face flushed a deep, furious crimson.
“How dare this bitch speak to me like that, Renzo?” she snapped, her voice cracking with disbelief and outrage.
Her fingers tightened over her abdomen as if grounding herself, as if my words alone had threatened something fragile within her.
“Hit her. Right now. Teach her a lesson.”
The command hung in the air.
Renzo didn’t move.
Didn’t even flinch.
His gaze flicked from Violet to me and back again, something restrained tightening in his jaw.
“She’s the boss’s wife,” he said evenly. “I would not dare lay a hand on her.”
The words were calm—but final.
Violet let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, stepping closer to him as if she couldn’t process what she was hearing.
“What?” she demanded. “You can’t seriously mean that, can you?”
When he didn’t respond, her voice rose.
“Do you honestly think Vincenzo would punish you if you hit her—or even kill her—for my sake?”
Her tone sharpened, edged with something dangerously close to certainty.
“My Vincenzo despises this woman. He’d kill her for me, if that’s what I wanted. Anything... just to see me satisfied.”
The way she said my made something cold twist in my chest.
“Vincenzo didn’t marry her because of some childish fourteen hours they spent together as children,” she continued, words spilling faster, fueled by conviction.
“He married her to trap her under his roof... to punish her daily for her father’s sins.”
Her lips twisted in a cruel smirk.
“To make her suffer... until she’s broken.”
Her eyes flicked back to me, gleaming.
Then, almost proudly—
“He told me he could get fresh hearts from dozens of donors willing to save me.”
Her smile deepened.
“I said no.”
That caught my attention.
“I said I wanted hers.”
Her gaze locked onto mine now, sharp and triumphant.
“And he promised—he swore—he would do exactly what I wanted.”
A small, satisfied tilt of her head.
“As long as it made me happy.”
“Violet,” Renzo interrupted gently, his voice cutting through the tension, “let’s proceed to the laboratory. We’re running out of time.”
But she ignored him.
Completely.
Her attention remained fixed on me, as though I were the only thing in her world that mattered in that moment.
“If you somehow survive having your heart ripped out today,” she said, voice sharp and deliberate,
“I will contact Ruslan Baranov myself... and give him your exact location.”
The name hit like a gunshot.
My breath faltered.
Her eyes sharpened as she watched the reaction.
“He’ll come for you.”
“He’ll drag you out of Vincenzo’s territory if he has to burn it down to do it.”
The threat was intentional.
Deadly.
Ruslan Baranov.
The name alone was enough to summon memories I’d buried deep—nights spent running, hiding, surviving.
A past that never really let me go.
A man who didn’t forgive.
A man who never stopped hunting.
If Violet gave Ruslan Baranov coordinates...
He wouldn’t hesitate. Wouldn’t question.
Wouldn’t care who stood in his way.
He would bring war.
Straight to Vincenzo’s doorstep.
Just to reach me.
My stomach churned.
But I forced myself to breathe.
Forced myself to steady my voice.
“I’ve had enough of your threats... and your boasting,”
My tone was controlled.
Empty of emotion.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have lectures to attend.”
I turned.
And this time—I walked away.
Each step cost me.
My body protested with every movement.
But I didn’t stop.
Behind me—silence.
She didn’t follow. Didn’t call out.
But I felt it.
Her gaze.
Heavy. Burning.
It pressed into my back like a physical force.
Like invisible needles boring into my skin.
Hatred radiated from her in waves so thick I could almost taste it.
Almost felt it clinging to me as I walked away.
THE REST OF THE DAY was nothing but torment.
I barely heard the lectures.
My mind refused to stay present.
It kept drifting back to Violet—her threats, the cold certainty in her voice when she promised to expose my location to Ruslan Baranov.
That wouldn’t just cause chaos.
It would be war.
Because Ruslan wouldn’t hesitate.
He would burn Vincenzo’s empire to the ground just to get his hands on me.
My fingers trembled slightly, whether from pain or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell.
My head pounded with every heartbeat.
At exactly 3:00 p.m., the final bell rang.
The sound echoed through the academy like a closing gate.
Students around me shifted, chairs scraping softly, papers being gathered, quiet conversations breaking out in hushed tones as the tension of the day began to unravel.
I didn’t join them.
I couldn’t.
I moved slowly, gathering my things with deliberate precision.
Every motion sent a fresh ripple of pain through my body—my knees flaring, my ribs tightening, my bruises pulsing in protest.
But I kept going.
Step by step.
Breath by breath.
When I finally stood, I had to steady myself against the desk for a moment longer than I liked.
Just to make sure I wouldn’t fall.
Then I started toward the main gates.
Each step was measured.
But it cost me more than I was willing to show.
I didn’t get far before a soldier appeared.
As if he had been waiting.
He moved quickly—falling into step beside me with practiced discipline.
His uniform was crisp.
His posture was straight, but his gaze lowered respectfully the moment he acknowledged me.
“Ma’am,” he said quietly.
Not loud. Not intrusive.
“Mr. Orsini instructed that I drive you back to the residence today.”
I nodded once.
“Okay.”
No resistance.
I didn’t have the energy for either.
He adjusted his pace instantly, matching mine as we made our way toward the executive bay.
The vehicle was already there.
A blacked-out SUV.
The kind of car that didn’t just transport people—it announced power before it even moved.
The doors were opened for me.
I slid into the backseat carefully, lowering myself with more control than I felt.
The moment I was inside, I leaned back into the seat and let myself sink into it.
As far as it would allow.
My body immediately protested.
Every joint screamed. Every bruise pulsed.
I closed my eyes.
Just for a second.
Tried to breathe.
In.
Out.
The car started moving almost immediately.
The outside world blurred past the tinted windows as we pulled out of the academy grounds.
And then—there was silence.
The kind that gave your thoughts too much space to breathe.
We had barely covered a few hundred meters—still within sight of the academy’s outer gates—when the atmosphere inside the SUV shifted.
It was subtle at first.
A tightening of the air.
A change in rhythm.
Then the soldier’s voice cut through the low hum of the engine.
“Signora...” he said, his tone initially controlled, professional—trained. “There are strange cars behind us.”
His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror.
Tension crept into his voice despite his effort to contain it.
“Three of them. Moving too fast.”
A pause.
“I’m reporting this.”
His wrist lifted immediately toward his mouth, thumb pressing the comms button as he prepared to transmit.
Something in his tone—something in the timing—made my chest tighten.