Chapter 59 Chapter 59
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Irina
I screamed, my head buried in my hands, trying to block out the horror.
Roberto's dead eyes were staring at me. Blood was everywhere, and the gunshots still echoed in my ears.
The images were burned into my mind, replaying over and over like a nightmare I could not wake up from.
I could still smell the gunpowder, still feel the glass cutting my skin, still see the moment life left Roberto's eyes.
Then I heard a voice, distant but familiar, calling my name.
"Irina!"
I knew that voice. I knew it deep in my bones.
Dimitri?
I looked up slowly, my vision was blurry with tears and shock.
A man was approaching the car, moving through the smoke and chaos like something out of a dream.
He had silver hair now, which was different, and strange. But his face, those features, the way he moved, it was Dimitri.
It had to be Dimitri.
Dimitri was alive. He was here, and he had come for me just like I always hoped he would.
Had he gotten his memory back? Did he remember me? Did he remember us?
He opened the car door with force and reached in for me with strong but gentle hands.
"Irina, it is me, you are safe now," he said gently, his voice was warm and familiar.
I let him pull me out of that death trap, my body was not responding properly, everything felt numb and far away.
My legs would not hold me, my arms felt like they belonged to someone else.
The moment I was out of the car, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly.
I sank into his embrace, breathing in his scent that I had missed so desperately these past lonely months.
Cedar wood and something else uniquely him. It felt like coming home. It felt safe. This was everything I needed.
"You are safe," he whispered into my hair. "I have got you, I have got you now."
I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him how scared I was, how much I missed him, how many nights I cried myself to sleep thinking about him.
I wanted to ask him if he remembered me, if he knew who I was, if the love we shared still existed somewhere in his damaged memory.
But my mouth would not form words, my tongue felt heavy and useless, my body would not cooperate.
My mind was shutting down, the trauma was too much, the fear was too overwhelming.
After knowing I was safe, after feeling his arms around me protecting me, the last of my strength gave out.
My eyes rolled back, my knees buckled, then everything went black.
I fainted in his arms, surrendering to the darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was confused, disoriented, and lost.
The light in the room was dim, and gentle, not harsh like I expected.
Soft golden light came from lamps on the walls, creating shadows that danced across the ceiling.
I blinked several times, trying to focus, trying to remember where I was and what happened.
My head felt heavy, my thoughts were slow and thick like honey.
Where was I? What happened? How long had I been unconscious?
Slowly, like pieces of a broken mirror coming back together, my memories came flooding back.
Roberto was driving me to Alexei with hatred in his eyes, calling me terrible names, treating me like a worthless cargo.
Then we were attacked out of nowhere. Men in black masks with guns never stopped firing.
Then gunshots came. Gunshots that shattered glass and metal and flesh, the terrible sounds that would haunt me forever.
The blood, so much blood, covering everything, covering me.
I remembered Roberto dying right in front of me, his eyes accusing me even in death, blaming me for everything.
Then Dimitri appeared like an angel or a ghost, his silver hair glowing in the darkness, saving me, holding me, making me feel safe for the first time in months.
I looked around quickly, my heart started racing with fear.
I was in a big room, the biggest bedroom I had ever seen, bigger even than the rooms at Alexei's safe house.
I was laying on a soft bed with silk sheets that felt cool and smooth against my skin.
There was an IV in my arm, the needle taped down carefully. Fluid dripped slowly from a bag hanging above me.
I was wearing a clean nightgown, soft and white, not the blood-soaked one I remembered.
My wounds were bandaged professionally, white gauze covered the cuts on my arms and face.
Someone had taken care of me, someone had cleaned me up, and tended to my injuries.
But I was alone, completely alone in this massive room.
No doctors hovering over me checking my vitals, no nurses adjusting my IV or taking my temperature.
There was no Dimitri sitting beside me holding my hand like I desperately wanted.
Just me, alone in this beautiful prison.
"Dimitri?" I called out, my voice was hoarse and weak, barely more than a whisper.
But there was no response, just silence that pressed down on me like a weight.
"Dimitri?" I called again, louder this time, forcing my damaged throat to work. Panic starting to rise in my chest.
Still nothing, the room remained completely empty, no footsteps, no voices, no sign of life.
Fear gripped me suddenly, cold and overwhelming, squeezing my heart in an iron fist.
Where was he? Why was I alone? Why would he save me just to leave me?
I tried to sit up but the IV pulled painfully, the needle shifted in my arm. I gasped at the sharp sensation and lay back down carefully.
"Dimitri!" I shouted desperately, tears starting to fall again, hot and fast down my cheeks. "Dimitri, where are you? Please!"
But only silence answered me, heavy and terrible, filling the room.
My mind started racing with horrible thoughts, terrible possibilities that made my stomach turn.
What if it was all a hallucination?
What if my traumatized mind created Dimitri to help me cope with the attack?
What if I was still in that car, still bleeding, still dying next to Roberto's corpse?
Or worse, so much worse. What if I was already with Alexei, and this was some cruel trick he was playing?
What if he was watching me through hidden cameras, laughing at my desperation, enjoying my fear?
"No, no, no," I whispered to myself. My breathing became rapid and shallow. My chest felt tight.
I could feel a panic attack coming. My vision was starting to blur at the edges.
I looked around the room more carefully now, searching for clues, searching for anything familiar that would tell me where I really was.
The room was too nice, too perfect, too much like something from a dream or a fantasy.
Rich dark wood furniture, paintings on the walls that probably cost more than most people made in a year, thick carpets, and heavy curtains.
Nothing about this felt real. Nothing felt solid or trustworthy.
The silence was suffocating, pressing down on me, m
aking it hard to breathe.
"Dimitri," I whispered one more time, but my voice was barely audible now. It came out weak and broken.
I already knew the truth in my heart, I could feel it settling over me like a death shroud.
This was not real, none of this was real. I was probably in a coma, creating my own reality in my head.
Dimitri never saved me.