The Volki

Chapter Fourteen, The Youngest Sibling

Tobias's eyes flick over me, his expression shifting from suspicion to concern as he takes in my pale face and unsteady posture.

"Aliona," he says softly, stepping closer, "you are sick."

I open my mouth to protest, but the words catch in my throat. His gaze doesn't waver, his concern deepening as he takes another step forward.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," he continues, his tone gentle but firm. "Is this really the best place to hide from Papà?"

I stiffen, guilt flashing across my face. "I wasn't hiding," I mumble, though my hoarse voice and fevered state make the words unconvincing.

Tobias raises a brow, folding his arms. "Really? Then why are you in Massimo's office, working, when you can barely stand?" He gestures to the chair I had been sitting in. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, Aliona. Papà only wants you to rest, and frankly, so do I."

I glance down at my hands, heat rising to my cheeks—not from embarrassment but from the fever coursing through me. "I just... I can't sit around doing nothing," I whisper.

Tobias's expression softens further, and he crouches slightly to meet my eye level. "Working yourself to the bone isn't going to solve anything," he says, his voice low and steady. "Papà hovers because he cares. And if you keep this up, you're going to collapse. Then what?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to respond. He sighs, placing a warm, steady hand on my shoulder.

"Let me help you," he says simply. "But first, you need to let yourself recover. Whatever this is—" he gestures lightly to the laptop, "—it can wait. You can't keep hiding in here."

Before I can argue, Tobias steps forward, taking my laptop from my hands and placing it firmly on the desk. His movements are calm but deliberate, leaving no room for protest.

"Come on," he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. When I hesitate, my legs shaky and unwilling to cooperate, he sighs. "Fine. If you're not going willingly, then I'll make sure you get there."

Before I can object, Tobias leans down, scooping me into his arms as though I weigh nothing. "Tobias, I can walk!" I protest weakly, squirming in his grip, but my fevered body betrays me, leaving me too exhausted to put up much of a fight.

"Clearly," he replies with a dry chuckle, though there's no malice in his voice. "But considering you can barely stand, I'm not taking the risk of you collapsing halfway there."

I sigh, resigning myself to his stubbornness as he carries me out of the office. His arms are strong and steady, and despite my embarrassment, I find myself relaxing slightly against him.

As we pass through the hall, I catch a glimpse of Papà, his sharp gaze flicking to us immediately. His face softens when he sees me in Tobias's arms, though his brows knit with worry.

"I told her to rest," Papà says, his voice carrying a gentle reproach as he stands.

"She doesn't listen," Tobias replies with a shrug, adjusting me slightly in his arms. "But I've got it handled."

Papà follows us as Tobias carries me into my room, his presence a quiet reassurance. Tobias lowers me gently onto the bed, pulling the blanket over me with surprising care.

"Stay," Papà says, his voice softer now as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Let us take care of things, Aliona. You've done enough."

I nod weakly, the fight drained out of me. Tobias presses a cool hand to my forehead, frowning.

"I'll bring you some water and medicine," he says, standing. "And don't even think about sneaking out again. I'll know."

His teasing tone draws a faint smile from me, but exhaustion soon takes over. As Tobias leaves the room, Papà brushes a strand of hair from my face, his expression filled with quiet concern.

"Just rest, cara mia," he murmurs. "That's all we need from you right now."

As the door clicks shut behind Tobias, silence blankets the room. The dim light filtering through the heavy curtains feels both oppressive and comforting. I let out a shaky breath, sinking deeper into the mattress, though my mind refuses to relax. My body might be confined to this bed, but my thoughts are anything but still.

Who am I now? The question forms unbidden, louder than the pounding in my temples. Tobias and Papà might be right about my pushing too hard, but how else am I supposed to keep from unraveling? Stopping—sitting idle—feels like drowning, like admitting that the person I'd once been no longer exists.

Memories flicker in my mind like shadows, pulling me back to a time when everything felt simpler, brighter. I can see myself as a child, twirling in the grand living room, the soft sound of my laughter filling the space. My brothers' voices echo around me, cheering me on as I spun faster and faster. Papà sat in his chair, his proud smile as steady as the sun. Back then, I was the center of our world—adored, protected, the little princess they all doted on. It was a time when their love felt like armor, shielding me from the harshness of the outside world.

But that was before. Before responsibility and loss stripped away my innocence. Before I joined Mikalilov, the Italians enemies. Before I became Vasilisa Mikhailov, the wife of Axton and Amir Mikhailov, Donna of the Russian Mafia. The ruthless Russian Queen. No longer the innocent five-year-old princess they once knew.

The memory fades, replaced by the weight of who I am now. Would that little girl even recognize me? With my demonic side dominating my angelic spirit, I've become someone my family doesn't understand—someone I don't fully understand. The love and adoration they gave me back then feel distant now, replaced by cautious glances and concerned whispers. It's as though they're mourning the girl I used to be, while I'm left struggling to reconcile the pieces of who I've become.

- Thank You For Reading The Volki. Chapter Fifteen Is In Writing - 

Last Edited - 12/13/2024

Word Count - 1,022