Into The Fire [H.S.]

43

My head was throbbing. My back was aching. My arms and legs hurt, my face was swollen, one of my eyes was swollen shut, my lips hurt.

I was a giant ball of pain.

My wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, from the rope binding me to the chair.

My arm was going numb from laying on it.

The chair was tipped up. And I came face to face with someone I thought I would never see again.

I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head at me.

I watched as he brought a glass of water to my lips.

I stared at him. I was already beat to shit. I wasn't about to drink anything I didn't see someone pour out of a bottle that hadn't been opened before. I'd been a bartender for a long time, but I'd been a girl my whole life.

He rolled his eyes, took a swig of the drink himself before holding it back up to my lips. 

I opened my mouth to let the liquid spill inside. I took a few greedy gulps. Then let it fill, but not enough that my cheeks puffed out. When he pulled the glass away I spat the water in his face.

He shook his head. "You always were stubborn."

"What the fuck Dimitri? What the fuck are you doing?" I snapped at him.

He looked back at me. His blue eyes fierce. "You get married and don't even tell me?"

If I could have rolled my eyes I would have. "We haven't spoken in years. If you wanted to catch up, you could have just fucking called me."

He let out a dark laugh. "You wouldn't have answered."

"So you had your goons, kidnap me, and beat me to shit? One of them was about to rape me. That your idea of a family renunion?" I snap. My face is fucking killing me.

I see something flash in Dimitri's eyes. Regret, anger. It goes away as soon as it shows up. "They had orders not to touch you."

"Well the big Russian dummy must not have gotten the memo. The other one knocked me out before he could do it..."

Dimitri nodded. "I'll thank Viktor for that later."

Recognition shown in my eyes. "Viktor... Bae's brother?"

Dimitri nods.

"Why am I here?"

His eyes get that same look. Regret, anger. "You know why."

My grandfather. "You're still doing his bidding?"

There it is. Rage. It takes over his face. "I do no ones bidding."

I narrow my eyes. "Except for his."

"Watch yourself little sister."

"Or what? You'll have your henchmen come in here and beat me again?" I snap at him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud alarm ringing cut him off. I watched as he turned on a monitor.

My breath came out in a gasp at what I saw.

Harry. My Harry. Barging through a door. Pulling two guns out of holsters underneath his suit jacket. By crossing his arms. Grabbing a gun with each hand.

I've never seen him move so quickly. I don't know how many men were in the building. I watched as he aimed the guns and fired. Bullet after bullet. Emptying the magazines and throwing the guns to the side, then reaching for another set.

I watched as the bodies fell the floor. I watched as blood splatter arched and painted his beautiful face.

He had a stoic calm about him. But his eyes... his green eyes were full of rage.

Dimitri looked at me. "All of this... for you..."

"What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Like my husband shouldn't go on a murder spree? Like my friends, our friends, my family, our family, shouldn't be right behind him? When I was taken? Kidnapped? I'm fucking fabulous, bitch. Why the fuck wouldn't he kill everyone who hurt me?"

Dimitri searched my face with his eyes. Eyes that used to be so like my own. Now they were just cold... Cold and detached.

I looked away from my brother, and back at the screens that covered the wall. I didn't know how long I'd been gone. I could see the fury in his eyes. But beneath that rage...I'd learned to read him really well and he was scared. Those eyes of his were so fucking expressive lately. He was expressive lately. I was used to cold Harry. Emotionally stunted Harry.

He wasn't exactly an open book. But he was more open.

I realized now why Harry didn't want me to be a part of this aspect of his life. He was protecting me. He was protecting me from all of this. The death, the hate, the detachment.

He told me once. He was addicted to my reactions. The way I laughed so freely. Smiled so giving. Even when I was angry, or sad. He loved watching my face. He loved watching me feel things.

Looking at him now. Seeing him. Studying him on multiple screens, while being tied to a chair... Really observing what a fucking force of nature he was.

Commanding.

Dominant.

Dangerous.

And he was mine. He'd come here. He'd taken lives. He was holding some fuck by the hair right now. A knife to his throat. Slicing through skin. Across the jugular... blood splattering, gushing, spilling... He was doing this for me.

Fuck.

I love him.

Fuck.

That mother fucker. He fucking sucker punched me right in the fucking heart.

I fucking love him.

Fuck.

My heart was fucking pounding. My hands were sweaty. I was holding my fucking breath.

Because I loved him.

And I actually gave a shit if he got hurt.

That fucking bastard. That sneaky son of a bitch. He stuck his foot out when I wasn't looking, and he fucking tripped me. There was no falling. There was no warning. There was no way for me to put my hands out and catch myself. That dickhead tripped me, and now I fucking love him.

Fuck!

He better not get himself hurt trying to protect me. I'll kill him.

Author's Note-

Shoutout to Sunflower3x thank you for the love on Capturing Time. I see you. I appreciate you. I love you 😘💜