Chapter 121 TOO SCARRED.
\~~~ALESSIA.
My heart pounded like a drum in my chest as they wheeled Luciano into his ward. The sight of him pale, and hooked up to machines beeping steadily twisted something deep inside me. My brother, the unbreakable Luciano Moretti, looked so fragile under those harsh hospital lights.
Tubes snaked from his arms, and the doctor had just warned us again about the next few hours being critical. Unstable, he'd said. That word clung to me like smoke, choking out any hope I tried to hold onto.
But it wasn't just Luciano keeping me on edge. Viktor, the stubborn, stoic Viktor, hadn't answered a single call. Not one. The silence from him was louder than any gunshot from that ambush.
Where was he?
Out there chasing Volkov like a man possessed?
Or worse, lying in some ditch, bleeding out because he wouldn't back down?
The tension coiled in my gut, making my hands shake. I loved my brother, but Viktor... he was something else. A fire I couldn't touch without getting burned.
Once Luciano was settled in the ward, the nurses shooing us out for now, I turned to Raina. She sat slumped in a chair, her face buried in her hands, sobs shaking her whole body. “It's my fault,” she kept whispering between gasps. “The whole thing with Luciano's war... if I hadn't left, if I hadn't pushed him…” She blamed herself for everything, the divorce, the escalating fights with Volkov, the bullet now lodged in my brother's side.
I knelt beside her, rubbing her back. “Stop it, Raina. This isn't on you. Rest here. I will be right back.”
She nodded weakly, but her eyes were red and swollen, lost in guilt.
I stepped outside into the cool hospital corridor, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry bees. My phone felt heavy in my hand as I dialed Viktor's number for what felt like the umpteenth time. It rang and rang, then clicked to voicemail. Again, frustration boiled up, mixing with the fear that had been gnawing at me since Gabriel’s words.
I paced a few steps, glancing at the ward door like it might give me answers.
Just then, Gabriel appeared at the end of the hall, his face grim and streaked with dirt. He jogged over, breathing hard. “Ma'am,”he said, dipping his head.
“I went back to the fight scene. No sight of the men. They're scattered, but... they said they didn't see Viktor either. He vanished after the boss went down.”
My stomach dropped. That word painted pictures I didn't want. Viktor alone, outnumbered, and paying back Volkov with blood.
“Thanks, Gabriel,” I muttered, waving him off. I moved to the quieter end of the corridor, away from prying ears, and dialed again.
The call went straight to voicemail. My thumb hovered over the record button, and I hit it, my voice coming out shaky despite my efforts to steady it.
“Viktor, if you show up in front of me with even a tiny scratch, I'm going to kill you myself. And if you show up dead... I'll still kill you. So you better reply to me on time. Please.’' I ended the message, my throat tight. Part of me wanted to scream it, to let him know how much his silence terrified me. But I couldn't.
I checked on Raina again, she was still crying softly, curled up like a child. “I will be outside,” I whispered, squeezing her shoulder.
She nodded, too drained to argue.
I settled on a bench just outside the ward, the hard plastic digging into my back. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the chaos in my head. Every nerve in my body screamed at me, blaming myself for being too hard on him. Why did I push Viktor away? Snap at him during arguments, keep that wall up when he looked at me with those intense eyes? It wasn't fair. But it wasn't all my fault either.
He was too stoic, and too locked up inside. He'd rather die than get involved with me, than admit there was something pulling us together like magnets we both fought.
“Were you waiting for me?”
That voice, low, rough, and unmistakable his, snapped my eyes open. Viktor stood there, leaning against the wall, his shirt torn and bloodied, but alive. Relief crashed over me like a wave, so strong I nearly choked on it.
I sprang to my feet and threw myself at him, hugging him so tight I thought I might rip his head off. His warmth, his solid frame, it was real, he was here.
“Viktor,” I breathed into his shoulder, my arms locked around his neck.
“O... oh, gently,” he groaned, his voice strained.
I pulled back immediately, my hands on his shoulders, scanning him from head to toe. “Are you hurt?” Panic edged my words as I lifted his sleeve and a deep cut ran along his arm, crusted with blood. I yanked up his shirt next, another gash across his stomach, shallow but angry. Twisting him gently, I saw the back and stitches were needed there too.
‘'How dare you get injured?!’' I punched his chest lightly, anger flaring through the worry.
He winced, and guilt hit me hard. I sighed, patting the spot softly instead. “I'm sorry. Sorry. Does it hurt?”
“I'm fine,” he said, his dark eyes flicking to the ward door. “How is he?”
I swallowed, the relief fading into the harsh reality. “He's still unstable. We hope he wakes within the time frame the doctor mentioned. They're watching him closely.”
Viktor's face tightened, guilt etching lines around his mouth, his jaw clenching like he carried the weight of the world. He blamed himself and I could see it, the way his shoulders sagged just a fraction.
“Don't even think about it,’' I said firmly, stepping closer, my hand on his arm. “This isn't on you. Luciano is tough. He will be okay. You hear me?”
He met my gaze, something raw flickering there before he nodded. “He better be. I need to show him the head of Volkov myself.”
My brows drew together. “You killed him?”
'I was repaying his favor,' Viktor swallowed, his voice thick. The bullet meant for him that Luciano took surely made revenge burned in his eyes, dark and unyielding.
I nodded slowly, understanding the debt he felt. “Get checked up too. Those cuts need cleaning before they get infected.”
He shook his head, planting his feet. “I won't move an inch till the boss wakes up.”
I raised a brow, crossing my arms. “You will get checked up right now, and then go freshen up. You're not going to do otherwise.”
He held my eyes, unblinking, and then a small smile played on his lips, the first real one I'd seen in a long time . It softened the hard edges of his face, making my chest ache.
“Sure, why not? Will you accompany me though? I don't think I'm strong enough to walk on my own.”
That teasing glint in his eye, the way his smile tugged at me was dangerous. I felt the heat rise, that familiar burn low in my belly. We both felt it, this pull, like flames licking at dry wood, ready to ignite.
But neither of us would say it. Not here, not now, with Luciano fighting inside and the world falling apart. Admitting it would mean vulnerability, and we were both too scarred for that. So I smiled back, small and knowing. “Sure, why not?”
He wrapped his arm around my neck, careful not to pull too tight with his injuries. I slid mine around his waist, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt, the steady beat of his heart under my palm. We exchanged glances as we started down the hall, his eyes dark and intense, mine probably mirroring the same hidden fire.
We burned for each other, a secret blaze neither would fan into words. Not yet. But in that moment, with his weight leaning on me just enough, it was enough to keep the darkness at bay.