Chapter 26 CHAPTER 26
Vivienne's POV
I could not breathe properly. Every attempt sent sharp, burning pain through my throat. My hand pressed against my neck, feeling the tender, swollen skin where Uncle Martin's fingers had been.
Emma's arms were around me, holding me up, keeping me from collapsing completely.
"It is okay," she kept saying, her voice shaking. "You are okay, Vivi. Just breathe. Try to breathe."
But I could not focus on breathing. Could not focus on anything except what was happening across the room.
Rafael.
He had my uncle against the wall, and he was.
Oh God.
He was destroying him.
I watched, frozen, as Rafael's fist connected with Uncle Martin's face over and over. Blood sprayed with each impact. The sound was sickening, wet crunches and thuds that made my stomach turn.
But I could not look away.
Some small, dark part of me felt satisfaction. Watched Uncle Martin get exactly what he deserved for years of abuse, for stealing from me, for trying to kill me.
Rafael dropped him, and Uncle Martin crumpled to the floor like a broken puppet.
Good, that dark part of me whispered. Good.
But Rafael was not stopping.
He grabbed Uncle Martin again, hauling him up, slamming his fist into his ribs. The crack echoed through the apartment. Then he threw him, actually threw him, across the room.
Uncle Martin crashed into the coffee table. Glass shattered everywhere. He did not get up.
Rafael started toward him again, and I saw his eyes.
Red. Glowing red.
Just like before.
Fear shot through me, cold and sharp.
What was he?
"Rafael, STOP!"
Someone else was there now, Mathias, grabbing Rafael's arms, trying to pull him back.
Rafael snarled, and the sound was not human. It was something else entirely. Something that made every instinct I had scream danger.
"You are going to kill him," Mathias was saying. "You need to stop."
Emma's grip on me tightened. "Do not look, Vivi. Just, just do not look."
But I could not stop looking.
Rafael was fighting Mathias's hold, his body tense, his eyes still that impossible, glowing red. He looked like he wanted to tear Uncle Martin apart with his bare hands.
And honestly? Part of me wanted to let him.
Finally, Rafael stopped struggling. His eyes closed, and when they opened again.
They were blue. Normal blue.
Had I imagined the red?
No. I had seen it. Twice now. That was not my imagination.
Rafael turned toward us, and even from across the room, I could see the concern on his face.
"Is she okay?" His voice sounded rough but human again.
"I think so," Emma said.
Rafael took a step toward me.
And collapsed.
"Rafael!" The word tore from my throat, coming out as a painful rasp.
He hit the floor hard, and then he was coughing. Not just coughing, blood was coming out of his mouth. So much blood, spraying across the dirty floor, dark and thick.
No. No, no, no.
"Oh my God!" Emma's voice was high with panic. "Mathias, do something!"
Mathias was already there, kneeling beside Rafael, hands on his shoulders. "Rafael, talk to me! What do you need?"
Rafael tried to speak but coughed again. More blood poured from his mouth.
I tried to move toward him, tried to get up, but Emma held me back.
"Vivi, no."
"He is hurt," I rasped out, my voice barely working. "Emma, he is, he is dying."
"You cannot help him right now. You can barely stand."
She was right. My legs felt like jelly. My throat was on fire. But I had to do something. Had to help him.
Rafael had saved me. He had kicked down the door and stopped Uncle Martin from killing me. And now he was on the floor coughing up blood and I was just sitting here.
"Rafael!" I tried again to pull away from Emma, but she held firm.
"Please," Rafael rasped, looking at Mathias. Blood stained his lips, his chin. "Vivienne first. Get her. somewhere safe."
"Dude, you are coughing up blood."
"I do not care." Rafael's voice was weak but determined. "Her first."
Tears burned in my eyes. Why was he saying that? Why was he more worried about me when he was clearly dying?
Emma spoke up, her voice shaking. "He is right. We need to get Vivi out of here. This place is not safe."
"Fine." Mathias helped Rafael sit up slowly. "But you are both coming with us."
Rafael nodded, pushing himself up using the wall for support. He looked awful, pale, shaking, blood still on his face.
But he was standing. He was alive.
For now.
Emma helped me to my feet. My legs wobbled, threatening to give out, but I forced them to hold.
I tried to move toward Rafael, but Emma kept her grip on me. "He is okay. But we need to get you both out of here."
Rafael started moving toward the door, each step looking like it took enormous effort. Mathias stayed close to him, ready to catch him if he fell.
As we passed Uncle Martin's unconscious body, I could not help but look down. His face was completely destroyed. Blood everywhere. I could not even recognize him anymore.
I should have felt something. Horror. Guilt. Something.
But all I felt was empty.
We made it down the stairs somehow. The cold night air hit my face, and I sucked in a breath despite the pain it caused.
Mathias helped Rafael into the passenger seat while Emma guided me to the back. I slid in, and Emma climbed in beside me.
The moment the door closed, I leaned forward, trying to see Rafael. "Is he, is he okay?"
"I will be fine," Rafael said, though his voice was weak. He coughed again, but no blood this time. "Just. just get us out of here."
The car pulled away from the curb, and I leaned back against the seat, trying to focus on breathing through the pain in my throat.
We were leaving. Finally leaving that horrible place behind.
But then an image flashed through my mind.
Uncle Martin. On the floor. Blood pooling beneath him. His face destroyed. His chest barely moving.
What if he died?
What if Rafael had actually killed him and we just left him there to bleed out?
My stomach twisted. Uncle Martin was awful, he was abusive and cruel and had just tried to strangle me, but if he died, if we left him there and he died.
That would be on us. On Rafael. On me for not doing anything.
"Stop!" The word ripped from my throat, coming out as a painful rasp. "Stop the car!"
Mathias hit the brakes immediately. The car jerked to a halt.
"What?" Emma turned to me, eyes wide. "Vivi, what is wrong?"
"We have to go back." My hands were shaking. "We have to."
"Go back?" Rafael twisted in his seat to look at me, his face pale. "Vivienne, no. We are not going back there."
"He is dying!" The words came out strangled, broken. "Uncle Martin, he is bleeding, what if he dies there? What if we just left him to die?"
"Good," Rafael said flatly. "He deserves it."
"Rafael!" Emma shot him a look.
"What? He tried to kill her, Em. He was strangling her when I got there. She was turning blue."
"I know!" Emma's voice cracked. "I know what he did. But Vivi is right. If he dies, that is murder. And they will trace it back to us. To you."
Mathias was quiet, his hands still on the wheel, looking between all of us.
I leaned forward, ignoring the pain it caused. "Please. We do not have to help him. We do not have to stay. Just, just drop him at a hospital. Leave him there. But I cannot." My voice broke. "I cannot have his death on my conscience. No matter what he did."
"Vivienne." Rafael's voice was gentle now, but firm. "He does not deserve your kindness."
"I know." Tears were streaming down my face. "I know he does not. But I am not doing this for him. I am doing it because I do not want to be the kind of person who leaves someone to die. Even someone like him."
Silence filled the car.
Rafael stared at me for a long moment, something conflicted in his expression. Then he let out a harsh breath and looked at Mathias.
"Fine. We will go back."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"But," Rafael cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument, "if we are going back, you are packing your stuff. All of it. Every single thing that belongs to you. Because there is absolutely no way, no way, I am letting you stay in that apartment ever again."
"Rafael."
"Non negotiable, Vivienne." His eyes were intense, almost desperate. "You are not going back to live with him. I do not care if he recovers. I do not care if he apologizes. You are done with that place. Done with him. You are coming to stay with us."
"I cannot just move in with you guys."
"Yes, you can," Emma said immediately. "Our guest room is yours. My parents will not mind. They will be happy to have you."
"But."
"Vivi." Emma grabbed my hand. "He tried to kill you tonight. If Rafael had not shown up." Her voice cracked. "If he had been even a minute later, you would be dead right now. You cannot go back there. Please do not ask us to let you go back there."
She was right. I knew she was right.
The marks on my throat throbbed as if to remind me exactly how close I had come to dying.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. I will pack my stuff."
"All of it," Rafael repeated. "Everything you want to keep. We are not coming back here again."
I nodded, fresh tears sliding down my cheeks.
Mathias put the car in reverse. "Alright. Let us do this quick. Get him to a hospital, get your stuff, and get the hell out of this neighborhood."
The car turned around, heading back toward the apartment building.
My hands were shaking in my lap. Part of me could not believe we were going back. Part of me was terrified of what we would find.
What if Uncle Martin had already died? What if it was too late?
Rafael must have seen something in my face because he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "It is going to be okay. We will handle this."
I wanted to believe him.
But as the apartment building came back into view, all I felt was dread.
The car pulled up to the curb, and Mathias killed the engine.
"I will check on him," Mathias said, already opening his door. "Rafael, you help Vivienne pack. Emma, stay with them."
"Be careful," Emma said.
Mathias just nodded and jogged toward the building.
Rafael climbed out slowly, still looking weak, and opened my door. He held out his hand to help me out.
I took it, and those sparks hit immediately, even now, even after everything, they were still there.
"Come on," he said gently. "Let us get your stuff and get out of here."