Chapter 8 - The Nightmare
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The scream tore through the dead of night, echoing violently against the high, vaulted ceilings of the mansion.
Aliyah jolted awake in her bed, her heart in her throat. She didn't think; her nursing instincts took over. She threw off her covers, sprinting barefoot across the cold hardwood floor of the hallway toward Victor’s suite.
She burst through his double doors without knocking.
The room was pitch black, save for the pale moonlight spilling through the window. Victor was thrashing violently in the center of his massive bed, tangled in the soaked silk sheets. He was trapped in a night terror, crying out in Russian, his hands fighting an invisible enemy.
"Victor!" Aliyah yelled, rushing to the edge of the bed.
He didn't wake. He threw a blind, powerful punch that missed her head by inches, completely consumed by the trauma of his past.
Aliyah didn't retreat. She climbed onto the mattress, disregarding her own safety. She grabbed his broad shoulders, pinning him down with her body weight.
"Victor, wake up! It’s Aliyah! You are safe!" she shouted, pressing her hands flat against his scarred chest.
His eyes flew open, wild and unseeing. He grabbed her wrists with bruising force, ready to break them. But the moment his skin registered the warmth of her hands, the fight drained completely out of him.
He gasped for air, his chest heaving beneath her palms, realizing where he was.
"Elena," he choked out, a ragged, broken sob tearing from his throat.
Aliyah didn't pull away. She shifted her weight, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders, pulling his head against her chest. She held the most terrifying man in Boston as he shattered into a million pieces in the dark.
"It was a car bomb," Victor whispered an hour later, his voice hoarse. They were sitting on the floor leaning against the bed frame. "It was meant for me. I started the engine, but the blast hit the passenger side. I watched the fire take her, and I couldn't reach her. The heat melted my skin, but it didn't kill me. It just left me here."
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Aliyah tightened her grip on his hand. "You survived, Victor. You have to stop punishing yourself for living."
He looked at her, his pale eyes tracing the soft lines of her face in the moonlight. "I thought I was dead for twelve years, Aliyah. Until you spilled that soup."
