Page 6 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

ALISON

Bright neon lights blinded my sight, fusing everything around me into blurred shadows.

My eyes were squinted into thin lines as a headache throbbed in rhythmic pulses on my temples. All it took was a sharp inhale of the antiseptic air, and I knew where I was.

Hospital.

I tried to adjust myself on the bed, a searing pain I hadn’t felt until now shooting up my leg, making me flinch and groan.

“Hey, Sleepyhead.” I heard a strong voice beside me.

I hadn’t even noticed he was holding my hand and stroking my skin.

I turned towards him, a perfect, wide smile welcoming me back into the world of the living, followed by a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m going to tell the doctor you are awake. Are you okay?”

I swallowed dryly, my throat hurting as much as my head but much less than my leg.

I could only nod in reply, watching as the huge man slowly walked out of the room.

I closed my eyes again, trying to find in the depths of my thoughts, memories of what had happened, why I was here, and who that gentle giant was.

Victor. I finally managed.

I saw flames, smoke, and a bright light. Glass and blood, panic and despair. The deafening sound of the bomb that took away all the other noises.

An angel emerging from darkness.

I saw shards of memories from the past.

The far past.

Happy moments with familiar faces that were now suddenly filling the room. I felt a rush of relief that made me instantly start crying as I saw everyone safe, sound, and completely unharmed.

A flow of unstoppable tears seemed to have affected everyone, pouring love and solace into an otherwise barren room. One by one, with all the caution in the world, each one of them covered me with kisses and love.

“Ahem. Miss Dornier.” A man cleared his throat from the door. I couldn't see him beyond the sea of people in front of me.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry but you’re all going to have to leave. It’s against hospital policy to have more than two visitors at a time in medium care.” His voice was steady and commanding.

I saw Matt abruptly turn around, he was never one to take orders well.

“I…I need to check up on Miss Dornier and she needs all the rest she can get. This much excitement is not good for her at the moment.” I could only imagine the death glare my brother gave the poor doctor to make him stutter the way he did.

Still, after a moment, Matt started clearing everyone from the room as per the man’s recommendation.

“I’m sorry, Don Battaglia, but right now, your sister’s well-being must be our top priority.

We need to give her space to heal.” The doctor practically whispered to Matt, excusing his demanding tone.

He was shaking and pale as a ghost. My brother sure had a special way of intimidating people, and by the name he was referred to, the old man surely knew who he was talking to.

Only my mother and Matt stayed behind, and I clung to their familiarity like a clam. A little child, afraid of the doctor. My father had reluctantly left the room, too, following Liam out into the hall.

“Do you remember what happened, Alison?” The man asked while checking my pupils.

“I think so. I think I passed out as soon as the bomb went off. After that, I just have glimpses.”

“Okay. Did you recognize everyone who was in this room with you?”

“Yes, sure. I was surprised to see Francesca here, though.” I smiled at my brother with a teasing wink. “It must have been hard on her to see your smug face again.” Matt stiffened, glaring back at the doctor, a sudden tension filling the room. “What?”

“Francesca’s been here for almost two months, Principessa. We’re back together again. Don’t you remember?”

“What? How? How long have I been out?” I was panicking, my voice raising to just below a screech.

“Calm down, Ali. It will be okay.” My mother tried to soothe me.

“It would be expected to have some memory loss.”

Other than my obvious injury, I felt okay, as if everything was as it was supposed to be. How in the hell could I suddenly be missing two or more months of my life? This had to be a joke.

“Shouldn’t I feel it? Feel different? I can’t even figure out what I don’t remember.

I can’t feel it. How can I not know?” I was shouting as panic took over me.

I could deal with pain. I could deal with scratches and bruises.

But this? I couldn’t feel the problem. How would I ever know if I was better if I couldn’t feel the problem?

“There’s nothing of immediate concern. As I said, some memory loss from the swelling in your brain is to be expected.

We’ll run some more tests and go from there.

It’s a good thing it’s not integral and just a partial gap.

You could be intentionally blocking the trauma.

An incident of this magnitude requires processing.

It is not abnormal for the brain to protect itself.

” He couldn’t help the knowing glare he directed at Matt again, aware that somehow his “business” was responsible for what had happened.

“Has anything like this happened before?”

“What? Blocking out memories?” Mom asked, “No. At least, not that we’re aware of.”

“She did go a period without talking after a traumatic event when she was smaller,” Matt said, looking warily at me as he spoke.

I what? How did I not know this? Or did I, and I couldn’t remember now?

I sat there listening. They were talking about me like I was this other person, because I was sure nothing of the sort had ever happened to me.

“And could she recall that event before this incident?” I could hear the doctor’s judgment in the way he asked that question.

“I’m not sure. It was so hard to get her to speak again that once she did, we tried as best we could not to relive those moments in fear that she’d regress.”

“I see. How old was she?”

“Six,” Mom quickly replied.

My chest was heaving as I started to hyperventilate. What event made me lose my speech at six? What made me lose my memory now, even though I’m perfectly aware that a bomb blew up at AD? How uselessly fragile am I that my own body reacted this way to protect me from losing it?

“Calm down, Miss Battaglia.” The doctor moved closer towards me, his hand now resting on my shoulder. “As I said, this is more than normal. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

My old self? Did I even know her?

I tried my best to regulate my breathing, calm down, and listen to what the old man had to say.

He proceeded to explain how I was induced into a coma to prevent my brain from swelling further than it already had. I only registered half of what he said, wandering off, trying to find what I couldn’t remember. How exactly? I didn’t know.

Other than that glitch, I was doing fine, recovering as well as I could be, but I needed to stay in the hospital for a while longer for further observation.

I couldn’t quite make sense of anything that happened that morning, or even most of the events from the recent past. I was left with nothing but flashes of images that made no sense at all.

The prognosis was still unclear. My memory should be coming back, if I hadn’t intentionally blocked it under the veil of trauma. But then again, what trauma could have been worse than a bomb? Because those images were as clear as day in my mind.

I found peace in the fact that I could at least identify every face that had been in my room. Mom, Dad, Matt and Fran, Liam and Jamie. Victor was the one sitting beside me when I opened my eyes and the last one to say goodbye after the doctor left.

I saw the frown on both my brothers' faces when they were forced to leave, complete with a deadly look from Matt, burning invisible holes into Victor’s skull, and a warning glare after a passive-aggressive pat on the shoulder from Liam. I guess he’d been hired as my new bodyguard.

I couldn’t help but laugh and feel incredibly loved with those simple but very revealing gestures. I was back to feeling like their little principessa , as they always used to call me. I didn’t even know how much I’d missed that.

My dread had lifted a little after seeing them all, even if just momentarily, but I still had the weight of the unknown compressing my chest from within. It was a strange feeling, looking for something you couldn’t even remember you’d lost.

What if I had lost a piece of myself along with those memories?

Victor saw my smile slightly fading, his accompanying mine, the previous lightness slowly dissipating, giving space to exhaustion and a fierce need to remember. But as hard as I tried, I simply couldn’t.

Why is Victor the one staying behind? Are we…? No, we can’t be.

“Victor?”

“Yes, Gata ?”

“I know there was a bomb, I can still feel the shake of that impact on my body, but,” I stopped to find the right words, feeling awkward for not remembering something so important. “Were you the one who took me out of there? I… I just can’t remember.”

He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. “No, Beautiful, it wasn’t me.”

“Then, who?” I asked, confused. I remembered being carried out. I remembered the feeling of relief upon seeing him, the familiarity behind this person’s features.

“That’s something you should maybe talk to your brother about. Maybe he has the answers you need.”

“How long has it been since…”

“Three days.”

“Oh, wow!” To me, it felt like it had just happened.

“Are you okay? You’re safe here, you know that, right?”

“I know.” I tried to be as convincing as possible, even though some part of me knew I would never be a hundred percent safe anywhere.

“You’ve never been alone. Not even after the nurses kick us out way past visiting hours have ended.

Two of your brother’s men are always keeping guard outside, too.

His methods of persuasion seem to work just as well here as they do in the underworld.

” I smiled at the thought. Of course Matt would have placed his army outside.