Breathless ✓

Thirty - Eight ✔

Christian

The room is shrouded in a dim glow, the subdued light casting elongated shadows on the walls. I find myself seated on the edge of the bed, surrounded by the silence that amplifies the weight of my thoughts. The ticking of the clock on the nightstand is an unwelcome reminder of the passing time, each tick echoing like a countdown to an unknown threat.

My mind, a battleground of conflicting emotions, wrestles with the shadows that lurk in the periphery of our lives. I run a hand through my hair, frustration coursing through my veins like an electric current. The threats, the ominous pictures arriving at our doorstep—it's a calculated assault on the fragile peace we've carved out. And Victoria, my love, remains blissfully unaware of the dangers that encircle her.

The weight of responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders, an invisible armor that shields me from the vulnerabilities I dare not expose. As my eyes trace the contours of the room, I can't help but envision the countless possibilities, each shadow concealing a potential menace. The walls that once felt protective now seem to close in, suffocating me with the enormity of the task at hand.

Victoria—her name echoes in my mind like a sacred chant. My thoughts weave a tapestry of memories, each strand a testament to the warmth and joy she has brought into my life. Her laughter, a melody that pierces through the darkest corners of my past, is a beacon of light that dispels the lingering shadows. And yet, I can't shake the gnawing fear that the radiance of her innocence may become the very thing that attracts harm.

I clench my fists, the sense of powerlessness gnawing at the edges of my resolve. The need to protect Victoria, to shield her from the looming threats, consumes my every waking moment. It's a battle I've trained for, yet one that feels infinitely more daunting when the stakes involve the one person I can't bear to lose.

The weight of her safety rests heavily on my mind, and I find myself questioning every decision, every move. Should we leave the estate? Is Frascati truly secure? The doubts, like relentless waves, crash against the walls of my resolve, eroding the certainty I thought I possessed.

Glance at the door, half-expecting Victoria to walk in, ease the chaos. And that is what she does, with her jeans coated in mud Victoria settled down next to me, her presence bringing a sense of calm amidst the chaos of our sudden departure. "When were we leaving?" she inquired, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I've packed both our clothes."

I couldn't help but smile at her proactive nature. As she spoke, a rebellious strand of hair escaped her ponytail, and I delicately tucked it behind her ear.

"Once the arrangements were all done," I assured her, pulling her gently to my side and placing a tender kiss on her head.

She hummed contentedly, her fingers absentmindedly playing with mine. "You had so many calluses on your hand," she observed, her tone light.

I sighed, memories of arduous training flooding back. "I used to train day and night to be able to take over one day."

The bitterness of those days lingered, but Victoria's giggle pierced through, reminding me of the warmth she brought into my life.

"You sounded like you hated it," she giggled.

I loved that sound, the melody that turned the harsh notes of my past into something softer. "You got that right," I admitted, pulling her onto my lap and burying my face in her chest.

She became my safe place, my haven, and the scent of her was both comforting and intoxicating. "Stop it," she giggled, running her hand through my hair. "That tickled."