Chapter 5 - The Awakening
When Elena opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the absence of rain.
The second thing she noticed was the steady, rhythmic beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor.
She tried to sit up, but a sharp ache across her chest made her gasp. A heavy wool blanket was draped over her legs, and sitting in the vinyl armchair beside her bed was a nurse she didn't recognize.
“Easy, Mrs. Ross,” the nurse said, standing up to adjust her IV drip. “You’ve had a rough night.”
“Maya,” Elena whispered, her voice dry. “My sister—”
“She’s fine,” a voice said from the doorway.
Elena froze.
Damian walked into the room. He had changed out of his wet suit into a simple dark gray shirt and black trousers, but the circles under his eyes made him look older, harder, and completely unrecognizable from the man she had married eighteen months ago.
He held a white paper cup in one hand and a thick manila folder in the other.
“How is Maya?” Elena asked again, her voice shaking.
“She’s sleeping,” Damian said, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Dr. Vance checked on her thirty minutes ago. The procedure was a complete success. Her room has been upgraded to the private wing, and all future expenses are fully covered by a newly established irrevocable trust.”
Elena stared at him. “What did you do?”
“I had a conversation with Victor Vale,” Damian said evenly.
The nurse quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Elena pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders. “You saw the folder.”
“I saw it,” Damian said. He tossed the blue folder onto the foot of the bed. “I also saw the medical reports from eighteen months ago. Pier 9.”
Elena looked away, her gaze fixing on the window where the morning sun was just beginning to break through the clouds. “Your men didn’t check the perimeter carefully enough that night. Someone was waiting for you behind the shipping containers. I pushed you out of the way.”
“You took a knife to the chest,” Damian said, his voice dropping an octave. “To save me.”
“You were going to sign the port revitalization deal,” Elena said bitterly. “If you died, the docks would have fallen into Victor Vale’s hands anyway. I didn't do it out of love, Damian. I did it because my father’s studio had already burned down, and I knew what kind of monsters ran this city.”
Damian stepped closer. He didn't look like a crime lord or a ruthless negotiator right then; he looked like a man standing over a grave he had dug with his own hands.
“You didn't tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what? That your chief adviser was reporting my every move to Victor Vale? That your business associates viewed me as a bought-and-paid-for ornament? You didn't want a wife, Damian. You wanted a hostage who could smile for the cameras at charity galas.”
“That’s not true,” he said instantly.
“Isn't it?” Elena laughed, though it sounded dry and painful. “You watched Saraphina humiliate me. You told me to kneel in the rain. You let Marcus cut off my sister’s medical transport because I questioned a ledger.”
Damian didn't interrupt. He didn't raise his voice. He took the heavy blow of every word because he knew he deserved worse.
“Saraphina is gone,” he said quietly.
Elena paused. “What?”
“She and her father are currently on a private flight out of the country. Their assets have been frozen pending a federal audit into municipal corruption and arson.” Damian set the paper cup on the bedside table. “And Marcus is currently answering questions in a windowless room downtown.”
Elena looked at him, searching his face for any sign of a trick. “Why?”
“Because,” Damian said, his gray eyes holding hers with absolute finality, “I spent eighteen months believing I was the most dangerous man in Baltimore. I thought power meant control. I thought silence meant strength.”
May you like
He reached out, his large hand hovering just above the edge of the blanket before slowly pulling back.
“I was wrong,” Damian whispered. “The most dangerous thing I ever did was let people I trusted convince me my wife was the enemy.”
