Chapter 65: Chapter Sixty Four

Athena

The moment I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings, I knew Eros wasn’t in the room. The dim glow from the lampshade beside my hospital bed cast elongated shadows across the walls. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence, amplifying the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine. Where was Eros?

A soft sliding sound broke the stillness. The door opened. Footsteps approached.

A doctor, clad in a white coat devoid of a name tag, stepped into view. A mask obscured half his face, and his eyes were cold, unreadable. In his gloved hands, he carried a tray holding a syringe and a small vial, which he placed on the bedside table.

Something about him felt... wrong. It struck me as odd—a doctor performing a nurse’s duty. My instincts screamed at me, but it was the nose mask that truly unsettled me. A memory flickered in my mind—the faceless captor from my nightmares. A chill raced down my spine. Was it him?

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice edged with suspicion.

"Dr. Leland is on a break. I’m covering for him,” he replied smoothly. He picked up the vial and the syringe. “This is just a little something to help with the pain.”

I eyed both the vial and the man warily. "I don’t need anything. I’m not in pain."

"Trust me, Miss Sanderson." His voice was calm, too calm. "This will make you feel much better."

I watched as he drew the liquid into the syringe, then discarded the vial. He stepped closer.

"I don’t—" My heart pounded as I struggled to find my voice.

"Shh. This won’t take long," he murmured, moving to inject the substance into my IV.

A cold dread seized me. My instincts screamed louder now, urging me to move, to fight—but my limbs felt like dead weight. Panic surged through me as I struggled to sit up, but before I could react further, the door burst open.

Eros stood in the doorway, chest heaving, his gaze locked onto the intruder with a darkness I had never seen before.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Eros’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

The fake doctor flinched, spinning toward him. His fingers tightened around the syringe as if weighing his options. He hadn’t expected to be caught.

“What are you doing here? It’s past visiting hours,” the man asked, his voice sharp with forced authority. “You shouldn’t be in here. Only authorized personnel—”

"Neither should you," Eros interrupted, stepping into the room. "Considering you're not a doctor."

The man chuckled, humorless. “And how do you know that?”

Eros tilted his head, his sharp, icy gaze shifting to the man's breast pocket. "Where’s your name tag?" His voice was dangerously low. "Shouldn’t there be a name on that coat? And what’s with the mask?"

The silence thickened. The fake doctor clenched his jaw, refusing to answer. Then, in a flash, he bolted.

Eros moved faster. In one fluid motion, he spun and delivered a powerful kick to the man’s jaw. The impact sent him crashing into the wall.

The syringe and vial hit the floor, the liquid inside spilling harmlessly onto the tiles.

The man groaned, dazed. My breath came in shallow gasps.

"Eros..." My voice trembled as the weight of the moment crashed over me. I knew—if Eros hadn’t arrived when he did, I might not have lived to see another sunrise.

Eros didn’t move at first, making sure the man was incapacitated. His chest still rose and fell with restrained fury. Then, with measured steps, he came to my bedside. 

His hands found my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek gently as if grounding both himself and me. I felt the rage radiating from him in waves, but he was holding himself back.

"Are you okay?" His voice was quiet, but the concern in it was overwhelming. "Did he hurt you?"

"No... I’m fine. Just... shaken." My voice barely came out. I glanced at the man still curled on the floor. "Let’s... let’s find out who he is."

Eros turned, glaring at the intruder like he was ready to finish what he started.

The fake doctor groaned, struggling to push himself up.

Then the door burst open again.

This time, it was uniformed officers, weapons drawn.

"Stay down!" one of them barked.

One officer swiftly restrained the man, pinning his arms behind his back, while another ripped off the surgical mask concealing his identity. A shocked gasp filled the room as recognition struck me. My gaze darted to Eros, our stunned expressions mirroring each other.

"Mr. Nielsen?" We exclaimed in unison, staring in disbelief at our P.E. teacher.

Detective Calloway turned to us, one brow raised. "You know him?" He inquired.

"Yeah. He’s our P.E. teacher," Eros bit out, his glare sharp enough to cut.

Mr. Nielsen lifted his head, blood trickling from his split lip courtesy of Eros’ kick. His furious gaze burned into me with unrestrained hatred.

"You," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "This is your fault!"

My brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?" I asked, confused. "It’s my fault you were stupid enough to get caught?"

"My brother! He died because of you and your father’s mess! And now you get to walk free while my family suffers?" His voice rose with raw fury, his eyes wild with grief.

"Watch your mouth," Eros warned, stepping between us, shielding me from view. His voice was like a blade—sharp and lethal. "Don’t you dare blame Athena for your misfortune."

"Misfortune?" Mr. Nielsen scoffed bitterly. "This is nothing. She deserves worse. My brother is dead because of her father!"

"I—I don’t even know your brother," I stammered, panic rising in my chest as fear tangled with my confusion.

"An eye for an eye," he snarled.

The officers tightened their grip, but he strained forward, his glare burning into me.

"I swear, Athena. This isn’t over. I will make you pay," he growled.

A shudder ran down my spine. Eros went rigid, his entire body coiling like a predator about to strike. In a flash, he lunged, seizing Mr. Nielsen by the collar, dragging him close. His knuckles turned white from the force of his grip.

"If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure you regret it," Eros threatened, his voice eerily calm, laced with lethal intent.

Mr. Nielsen smirked, as if feeding off Eros’ fury. The officers yanked him back, dragging him toward the door. His voice rang out as they led him away.

"You have the right to remain silent—" an officer began, reciting his rights.

"You can’t protect her forever, Eros," he taunted, his voice fading into the hallway.

Eros watched him disappear, his jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. The room fell into a heavy silence, thick with unspoken tension. I shifted slightly, and Eros’ attention snapped back to me.

His expression softened. With a quiet exhale, he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His touch lingered as if grounding himself in the reassurance that I was still here.

"It’s okay. He won’t touch you again," he murmured. "It’s over now."

"Is it?" I let out a hollow laugh. "Feels like I’m right back where I started."

Eros didn’t reply immediately. He saw the exhaustion weighing me down, the invisible burden pressing against me. He sighed.

"You don’t have to face this alone," he said quietly.

I let out a bitter chuckle. "The media’s going to have a field day. Just like before. Just like when my father—" I let my voice trail off deliberately.

"Let them talk. They don’t know you," Eros said, his voice firm.

I swallowed hard, gripping the blanket tightly. "The Sandersons will pretend they care. They’ll milk this for their own gain. I can already see Beatrix’s press statements, playing the role of the perfect mother." My voice dripped with resentment and sarcasm.

Eros’s jaw tightened. He saw right through their facade—the way they used me whenever it suited them. The fact that he was angry on my behalf, that he cared, brought me a small measure of comfort.

"They don’t deserve you," he said, shaking his head. "Neither did your birth father."

His words hit me like a blow. My breath caught, and the sincerity in his voice unraveled something deep inside me. My throat tightened, and before I could stop it, the tears spilled over.

I pressed my palms to my face, trying to stifle my sobs. Eros watched me for a moment before, without hesitation, pulling me into his arms. I stiffened—then gave in, sinking into his warmth. 

My fingers clutched his shirt, holding onto something solid for the second time in years. The first had been the day he sent the police to rescue me.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice steady, grounding me as my sobs faded into quiet sniffles.

I lifted my gaze to his, finding comfort in the depth of his eyes, yet unable to shake the lingering fear. Mr. Nielsen’s promise echoed in my mind, a dark shadow over my relief. I exhaled shakily, gripping the sheets, clinging to the fragile hope that this nightmare was truly over.