Chapter 13 - The Awakening
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The silence of the cabin was broken only by the crackle of the wood-burning stove.
Victor carried Aliyah into the bedroom, gently placing her on the center of the massive quilt-covered bed. The adrenaline crash had left them both exhausted, but sleep was impossible. Every time Aliyah closed her eyes, she saw the muzzle flashes.
Victor lay down beside her, fully clothed, keeping a respectful distance. He was staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight.
Aliyah rolled onto her side, looking at the man who had turned himself into a human shield for her. The emotional barrier he had maintained for months was fractured, and she wanted to break it entirely.
She reached out, her fingers gently tracing the silver scar on his eyebrow.
Victor’s breath hitched. He turned his head, his pale gray eyes locking onto hers. The intensity in his gaze was terrifying and beautiful.
"Don't hide from me anymore, Victor," she whispered.
He let out a ragged groan, closing the distance between them. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her flush against his chest, and his mouth crashed down on hers.
The kiss was desperate, fueled by the terror of near-death and the overwhelming relief of survival. It wasn't gentle; it was a hungry, consuming collision of souls. Twelve years of isolation, grief, and fear burned away in the heat of her mouth.
Aliyah kissed him back with equal ferocity, her hands exploring the hard, scarred muscles of his back, anchoring him to the present. He wasn't a monster, and he wasn't a patient. He was a man starving for affection, and she was pouring it into him.
They loved each other with the frantic, raw energy of two people who knew tomorrow was never guaranteed. Victor touched her with absolute worship, his previously traumatized hands exploring every inch of her skin as if memorizing a holy text.
When they finally collapsed in an exhausted tangle of limbs, Victor held her tightly against his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head.
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"I am never letting you go," he whispered fiercely into the dark room.
It sounded like a vow. But to a mafia boss, a vow of love is often a death sentence.
