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“My sister doesn’t belong here.” He mutters under his breath, his voice breaking. “Chiara belongs with us; her family.”
I don’t respond to that.
There’s nothing I can say that will make him believe me, but I know that Chiara will be able to sayplenty.
Behind us, Otets’ voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding.
“Enough.” He says as he takes a step forward. “This isn’t the time for fighting.”
Dario glares at Nikolai and I for a moment longer before he steps back, his chest still heaving.
Beside me, Nikolai relaxes slightly, though his gaze remains locked on Dario.
Together, we continue walking through the hallway towards the room where Chiara is resting.
And as soon as we take a step inside, the room falls into an uneasy silence, the tension still crackling in the air.
I glance over at Francesco who is sitting beside Chiara’s sleeping figure, his hand on her head as if she’s the only thing that’s grounding him right now.
My chest tightens as I look at Chiara, then back to Nikolai.
I don’t know how we’re ever going to make this work.
“Francesco.” Otets says as he takes a step further into the room. “How is she today?”
There’s a moment of silence before he replies.
“She is good. She woke up a little while ago.” He pauses, swallowing hard, then looks to Nikolai and I. “She asked for your sons…she asked for Nikolai and Mikhail.”
Immediately, my chest swells, warmth unfurling from somewhere deep, filling me with a rush so intense it almost steals my breath.
She asked for my brother.
She asked for me.
His words echo in my head, sounding so sweet and so disbelieving.
My lips curve into a smile that I don’t bother to hide, and as I look over at Nikolai, I spot the same expression on his face.
We both look towards the bed Chiara is currently laying in, relief spreading through my body.
When she wakes up, I’ll be sure to show her just how damn happy hearing that has made me.
And that’s when I hear it—a soft, broken whisper.
I watch Francesco lean down, his ear close to her lips as she whispers something, then he pulls away slightly to whisper something of his own into her ears. His words are too quiet for me to make out what he’s saying.
Chiara stirs in the bed, a faint moan escaping her as her eyelashes begin to flutter.
My chest tightens at the sound, and the way her face pinches with confusion and exhaustion as she slowly blinks herself awake.
This is different to all those times in the previous three days.
This ismore.
Her gaze is unfocused at first, her eyelids heavy like she’s still caught between sleep and consciousness. Then her eyes start to move, darting all around the room, searching.
“Dario?” She murmurs, her voice hoarse. “Where are you?”