Naïve

Chapter 12

Everything was a blur for Alex—just flashes of dim hallways and the constant, burning ache that overtook every other sense. He was dimly aware of Yassen beside him, of his lips moving, saying something, but Alex could only make out the faint hum of sound. The words drifted beyond him, unreachable, as he fought to stay conscious.

At last, they reached his room. Yassen eased him down onto the bed, carefully positioning him on his stomach to spare his ravaged back from the sheets. The mattress felt unforgiving, each fiber pressing into his skin, amplifying the agony instead of offering relief.

Alex watched Yassen leave, his figure disappearing out the door. For a brief moment, he thought the man had abandoned him, leaving him to suffer in silence. But before he could even process the thought, Yassen returned, arms filled with supplies. Bandages, ointments, a basin of water—things Alex vaguely recognized but couldn't bring himself to acknowledge through the haze of pain.

Yassen moved with a quiet efficiency, setting everything down on the small table by the bed. His gaze was steady, almost clinical, as he looked at Alex, but there was a flicker of something else, something softened, in his usually cold eyes. Alex tried to turn his head to see better, but the movement sent a fresh wave of agony through him, forcing his face back into the mattress.

Alex felt the cool edge of a blade as Yassen cut through the remnants of his tattered shirt, every tug of fabric peeling painfully away from the raw skin underneath. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to cry out as the cloth finally gave way, leaving his back bare to the air. The sting from the fresh wounds seemed to amplify, each one a throbbing reminder of Sarov's punishment.

Yassen worked silently, dipping a piece of cloth into clean water before bringing it to Alex's back. The first contact made him flinch, but Yassen's touch was surprisingly gentle, far more than Alex had expected. He moved with practiced care, wiping away the blood and grime in slow, measured strokes, as though the act itself required a level of reverence. The cool water was a brief balm against the heat of Alex's pain, and with each pass, a slight sense of relief washed over him, though it did nothing to dull the ache deep in his muscles.

Yassen's silence was heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts, and Alex couldn't help but wonder what was going on behind those impassive eyes as he cleaned the wounds Sarov had so mercilessly left.

Yassen's voice was low, almost soft. "I have to disinfect the wounds," he murmured, but there was no mistaking the tension in his tone. It was the only warning Alex received before a searing jolt of pain shot through his back as Yassen pressed a disinfectant-soaked cotton pad onto his wounds. Alex let out a strangled groan, his body arching off the bed involuntarily, muscles contracting as he fought the urge to scream.

Sensing Alex's reaction, Yassen pulled the cotton away, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Alex's face pressed into the mattress, the pain ebbing just enough to allow him to speak. He drew a shaky breath, nodding as he braced himself against the sheets. "You can do it," he managed, his voice a strained whisper.

Yassen didn't reply but set to work with methodical care, each press of the disinfectant leaving Alex clutching the bed tighter, his knuckles white against the fabric. The pain was relentless, unyielding, but through it, Alex sensed Yassen's steady presence, a quiet determination in his movements. It wasn't mercy, but it was something close—a silent understanding of the agony he was inflicting and the unspoken promise to see it through.

Finally, Yassen set the bloodied cotton aside, his fingers steady as he reached for a small bottle of cream. He opened it carefully, scooping a bit onto his fingertips before gently applying it to Alex's torn skin. This time, instead of the fiery sting, a soothing coolness spread across his back, washing away some of the pain. The sweet relief was almost overwhelming, a quiet balm that eased the relentless ache of the past hours.