“I’m making sure Julian and Lila are safe,” I say into the stillness. “We sent word that you’re away on a business trip.”
I exhale slowly, pressing my hand against hers. It’s a lie. A weak shield against the storm that’s coming. The best I can do to swallow the guilt clawing at my throat.
Still no response.
“The twins want you to help with their solar system model. Apparently, I’m ‘completely useless’ at anything involving art.”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. The first one in three days. It fades fast.
“I want you to wake up, Isabella,” I admit, leaning closer, pressing my forehead against the back of her hand. “I will find them,” I promise her skin. “I will dismantle everything they love, piece by fucking piece. They will learn what it means to touch what’s mine.”
But I need you to come back.
I don’t say it.
I can barely even think it without falling apart.
Instead, I press my lips to her bruised knuckles. One slow, deliberate kiss.
“We had a deal, Bella,” I whisper against her skin. “One year. I’m holding you to it.”
A twitch.
Small. Barely there. But my hand feels it. I freeze, staring down at her fingers, where they curl weakly against mine.
Another twitch. Stronger this time. Then, a dry, broken whisper:
“Kon… stantin…”
Her eyelids flutter, struggling against the sedation.
I lean closer, keeping my voice low, steady. “Right here,krasavitsa. You’re safe.”
Her lashes lift, dragging over bruised skin. Those blue eyes—dull with drugs, rimmed with pain—find me through the fog.
She blinks slowly. Confused. I can almost see her piecing it together—the machines, the bed, the weight of pain not quite touching her yet because the medication holds it back.
“Where…?” Her voice cracks, thin as paper. She swallows. Tries again. “Where am I?”
“You’re home,” I say. My thumb brushes lightly over her wrist. “My private clinic. You’re safe. No one can touch you here.”
She swallows. Winces. Recognition dawns in those beautiful eyes.
Her forehead creases. I see the panic rising before the words break free:
“Irina…” Her voice is a rasp. She tries to sit up, instinct driving her body—but the pain slams her back against the mattress.
A broken sound escapes her lips, half gasp, half sob.
“Don’t,” I say sharply, pushing her gently back down, my hand firm on her shoulder. “You’re hurt. You’ll tear your stitches.”
She struggles for a breath, her chest heaving shallowly.
“She threatened me,” Bella whispers, her voice cracking around the words. “She said… if I told you anything… she’d kill Julian and Lila.”
Her eyes shine, glassy with tears she’s too stubborn to shed.
My chest tightens so hard it feels like my ribs might snap.
