Page 288 of Ruins
His face darkens. “Is she—”
“She’s okay,” I cut in. “Just fainted.”
Luca’s worry is written all over him, his eyes flicking from her limp form in my arms to me. “What do you want to do?” he asks, his voice steady but edged with concern.
I hesitate. My eyes trail over her—the bruises already darkening on her skin, the smears of blood.
Some of itcouldbe hers.
I don’t know and that not knowing makes my chest tighten, a swell of rage rising with the fear gnawing at me. I need to know she’s okay.
I need to be sure. “Take us to the hospital,” I say, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument. I don’t want to waste a single second. “I want her checked for injuries.Every damn inch.”
Luca nods, already moving to the car.
I adjust Vasilisa’s weight in my arms, cradling her closer, feeling the rise and fall of her breath against my chest—a faint, fragile rhythm. I grit my teeth, my rage simmering just beneath the surface.
I need answers.
I need to know if they laid a hand on her in any way Ican’tsee.
Luca pulls open the car door, and I slide into the backseat, never letting her go. The drive is silent. Tense. The city blurs by, unnoticed. All I can see is her. Every bruise. Every mark. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. My own hands are shaking.
Fury.
Fear.
Both coiling tightly inside me, suffocating.
They tried to snuff out my light.
I’ll make sure theyneverget the chance again.
When we reach the hospital, the staff is already waiting, alerted by Luca. As they approach, I tighten my hold on her, barely restraining myself.
“Full exam,” I growl to the lead doctor. “Every possible test. I want to know if she’s hurt—anywhere.”
The doctor nods, keeping his eyes low, sensing the edge in my tone. I finally let them take her, my hand lingering on hers until they take her away, and I’m left in the hallway, fists clenched, every muscle tense, waiting. If theytouchedher, if she’s hurt, I swear on everything I’ll make them pay tenfold.
As the hours tick by, I remain in the cold, sterile hallway, my mind reeling with torturous thoughts. Every few minutes, I replay the scene of Vasilisa fainting in my arms, her body going limp with exhaustion and fear. Her fear.My failure.
I keep pacing, my steps echoing on the linoleum floors, each one tightening the coil of anger and worry wound up inside me. Every minute feels like a lifetime, every second I’m not by her side grates on my nerves like sandpaper. A voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Santo.”
I glance up to see Luca striding toward me, a plastic hospital bag in his hand. His gaze flicks over me, and his expression darkens.
It’s only then that I register it.
The blood.
It’s on my hands, my clothes, dried in dark streaks across my shirt, my arms, my knuckles.
Their blood.On my wife.On me.
Luca exhales sharply, shaking his head as he hands me the bag. “Change. You look like you just walked out of a damn war zone.”
Because I did.
