Page 93 of Forced & Obsessed By the Bratva King
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elena
I throw the covers aside, kick my feet off the bed, and drag my hands through my hair with more force than is necessary. From the edge of the bed, I angle my head to the side, briefly staring at my reflection in the mirror by the dresser.
I’m a mess. My hair’s tousled like a bird’s nest. My eyes are red and puffy from lack of sleep, and there’s practically a dark cloud hovering around me from thinking too much.
I don’t like it—this gnawing feeling of uncertainty and helplessness, the tumultuous wave of emotions wreaking internal havoc. In the midst of it all, that horrible truth comes back again, like it has been all night, causing me to toss and turn on the bed:
I almost died.
I’ve heard people’s stories about near-death experiences. I’ve sympathized with them, wished they didn’t have to live through those painful moments. But I’ve never fully understood the gravity of it until yesterday.
The inexplicable fear and agony that this moment just might be your last—the last time you draw breath, the last time you see the ones you love, the uncertainty of what waits for you on the other side in that moment when your life flashes before your eyes until the darkness sets in.
But in my case, the darkness didn’t set in. Leonid didn’t let it. Like a knight in shining armor, he came to my rescue and fought my attackers off like that was the only reason he was on Earth: to protect me.
My heart still thumps in excitement as I remember it—the tears of joy that sprang to my eyes, the hope that I wasn’t goingto die, and the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach when I saw how brutally Leo fought for me.
I choke out a dry laugh.
Isn’t it ironic?
Who would have thought that the same man who dragged me into all of this would passionately fight to save me from it?
Combing my fingers through my hair again, I shake my head.
My life is unreal.
“Oh, Elena,” I murmur under my breath, and bury my face in my hands.
The relief and gratitude that have washed over me are surreal, but there’s no room to bask in the euphoria of being alive because of the guilt that chips away at my heavy heart.
The truth is sometimes a bitter pill to swallow. But in the safe confines of the bedroom, in the silence, I take it all back—my insults and unreasonable arguments.
I never should have doubted him in the first place.
Groaning, I raise my head up and drag myself off the bed. The emptiness on his side of the bed worsens the guilt I feel, and a subtle, hollow ache settles in the pit of my stomach. It makes sense that he isn’t here. If I was him, I probably wouldn’t be here, either.
Or maybe I would be, to rub my ignorance in my face and tell meI told you so.I blink away the thought. Leonid is a lot of things, but he isn’t petty. His absence is enough to convey the message that he isn’t pleased with how things went down yesterday.
I lift my eyes toward the windows. The curtains are open and birdsong filters in, but the sun is barely out. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to.
I turn away from the view of dark blue skies and waving trees outside and slip my feet into the fluffy slippers beside thebed. Grabbing a robe from a hanger by the door, I tie it over my mismatched pajama shirt and gray sweatpants before starting for the kitchen.
I’m past the dimly lit hallway and down the stairs, almost nearing the entrance of the kitchen, when something clatters on the ground. A few gory memories from the previous day flash through my mind: the deafening ricochet of bullets as the guns went off, the sickening crunch of bones when Leo sank his fist into someone’s face, the bodies of men dropping to the ground like lifeless sacks, the light fading from their eyes.
My heart leaps to my throat, beating so fast I’m scared it could split through my ribs. My hand flies to my chest. “Oh my God!”
I hear a shuffle of feet approaching. “Elena?” It’s Tatiana. “Is that you?”
The concern and worry in her voice forces me to put a smile on my face as I step over the threshold of the kitchen. The smile is shaky, but I try. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“I’m so sorry. Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to. It’s just the pot. It fell when I was trying to put it away.” Her blue eyes gleam with remorse, and her lips quiver slightly as she walks up to me. I’m barely given enough time to process her apology before her arms wrap around me, drawing me into a hug. “You must have been so scared, poor thing.”
She pats my hair and rubs circles on my back. It’s so warm and comforting, it almost sends tears to my eyes. I pull away before I start sobbing. “No, you didn’t wake me. I was already on my way here before I heard the noise. I promise I’m fine. It was just a little scare, but I’m good now.”
Tatiana watches me, assessing me the way her brother would. She scrutinizes me with a frightening attention to every single detail that won’t stop until she’s assured that I really am okay. I put on a bright smile, and whatever she sees seems toconvince her enough to peel her arms off me and take a step back.
