Beneath The Concrete Heart

Chapter 10:Aftermath (edited)

**Andreas slowly opened his eyes, groggily taking in his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, but the familiar patterns of the wallpaper seemed blurred, distorted. A dull throb pulsed behind his temples, and the metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils. It wasn't just on him; the sheets were stained crimson, a stark contrast to their pristine white. Everything felt foggy, as if he were trying to wade through a dream. Ava's voice, sharp and laced with worry and frustration, pierced through the haze, bringing him back to the harsh reality.

"Andreas, what happened? You're covered in blood! Good god, Andreas! Where were you?" Her voice was laced with panic, and he noticed a slight tremor in her hands as she reached for him.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt parched, raw. Each swallow was agony. Ava, ever perceptive, rushed to the bedside table and helped him sit up, propping him against the pillows. She held a glass of water to his lips, her eyes never leaving his. As he drank, the cool liquid soothing his burning throat, he noticed the deep lines of concern etched around her eyes. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept in days.

"I'm fine, Ava. Just a little roughed up," he said, trying to reassure her with a weak smile. He didn't want her to worry, not when she was always so strong for him. But he knew she saw through him.

Ava wasn't having it. "Roughed up? You're a mess! You look like you've been through a war! What happened with LaRosa? Did something go wrong? Was it those damn Serbians?"

Andreas sighed, the very mention of LaRosa dredging up the memories of the night. The brutal choreography of violence, the screams, the adrenaline, the bone-wearying exhaustion. "It's over. We won. LaRosa's faction is joining ours." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. Winning always came at a cost.

Ava's expression changed from worry to disgust, a flicker of something else he couldn't quite place dancing in her emerald eyes. "And you're celebrating by coming home looking like a slaughterhouse? Seriously? You couldn't have at least cleaned yourself up before... before what? Parading yourself as some kind of trophy?"

Andreas chuckled weakly, a dry, rattling sound. "I didn't exactly have a choice. LaRosa put up quite a fight. The man was desperate." More desperate than he'd anticipated. He'd almost lost control, almost succumbed to the primal urge to... He pushed the thought away.

Ava, despite her simmering anger, helped him out of bed and guided him towards the shower. She carefully peeled away his blood-soaked clothes, and she carefully cleaned his wounds with a gentleness that belied her earlier frustration. As she tended to him he couldn't help but notice her displeasure. Was it just the blood? Or was there something more beneath the surface?

"I'm sorry, Ava. I know shouldn't have come home like this, but I needed to see you. To make sure..."

"It's not just that," she said, her voice softening, the sharpness receding. "It's... the calls I had to make. And I was worried sick about you. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I just want you safe." Her voice cracked on the last word.

Andreas's heart swelled with love and a pang of guilt for the life he led, the life he dragged her into. "I'm sorry, Ava. I promise to be more careful. I'll make sure the new deal will work for you, too."

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted them, shattering the fragile moment. Ava, with a sigh, reached for a towel to wrap around herself and went to answer it. She opened the door and stepped back, revealing a young boy with strikingly familiar features. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes... features that echoed a younger version of himself

"Who are you?" Ava asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

"I'm Gekyume, Andreas's son," the boy replied, his voice quiet but firm, his eyes fixed on Andreas.