Crimson Nightmares

Chapter Twenty-three

God, I am so tired. The Mafia has sucked the life out of me. They leave me a little time off, during which I go and see Gérald. The doctors say he will go into physical therapy tomorrow, but he won't go back to the mafia for another week. All I wanted to do was sleep. The day he woke up, I cleaned the bottles, only to have them replaced in the following week. I'm worn out. My blood stash was almost gone, making me sick and tired. I didn't have time to get more blood, so I've been biting myself. It isn't the worst, but I prefer having blood on hand. My thoughts keep drifting back to that night, the hell we faced, and the weight of responsibility on our shoulders. I try to keep my mind on the task at hand, but the thoughts of revenge and the need for justice consume me. What hurts the most is knowing you already solved the problem, but it wasn't enough.

We continued our surveillance efforts, gathering intelligence on potential threats and planning our countermeasures. Isidor's hacking skills proved invaluable, as he was able to access crucial information that helped shape our strategy.

In the evenings, I would visit Gérald and Thaïs. Gérald would be awake, but his memory was still hazy from the attack. She was making good progress with her physical therapy, and her spirits were gradually lifting. I would sit with them, listening to their stories and trying to ease their worries.

The stress was taking its toll on all of us, but we could not afford to let our guard down. Another attack would be

devastating, and the stakes were too high. We needed to be prepared and vigilant.

As the weeks went on, we began to see glimpses of progress. Enemy groups were disrupted, and we managed to thwart a few attacks before they could be carried out. The mafia was slowly but surely regaining its strength and stability.

One evening, after a long day of surveillance and planning, I visited Gérald and Thaïs in their room. They were both in good spirits, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Gérald had started physical therapy, and it seemed like he was on the road to recovery.

As I sat down beside Thaïs, I could see the determination in her eyes. She was resilient, and it was evident that she was not going to let the attack define her. She was the most persistent woman I know.

I went to visit Gérald. He was angry about being stuck in the small room for weeks. It was weird; he noticed the lack of sleep I have been getting.

"You look exhausted, Elizaveta. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Gérald. Just long hours at the mafia."

"You're working too hard. You need to take care of yourself. We all do."

I smiled, grateful for Gérald's concern. "I will. Thank you."

That night, I found myself working overtime at the mafia. My mind raced with thoughts of the mafia, Gérald, Thaïs, and the weight of responsibility on our shoulders. I reached for the flask of blood from the draw of my desk, the cool liquid offering a reprieve from my aspect thinking.

As the days turned into weeks, our efforts began to pay off. The mafia was becoming stronger, and we were making progress in our mission to regain control. But the constant stress and pressure took their toll on us all.

I was at my braking point right as Gérald walked into my room.

"Gérald!"

"Hello Elia."

"What are you doing up?"

"They let me out."

"Really? So you're all better?"

"Yes, but I'll need to go back there about every two weeks or so."

Finally, he was better. I wrapped my hands around him.