Dark Souls

37.heaven or hell

|KAT'S POV|

I flutter my eyes open, the sound of the breeze and ocean waking me up.

I'm not in my bed and I'm not even in the Coppola's Estate, but I don't panic because this scent is already familiar to me, so calming and soothing.

I slowly sit up on the bed, my body stiff and aching.

How the fuck did I get here?

I see Wolf standing outside in the balcony. He's in only gray sweatpants, with a cup of coffee in one hand and an ipad in the other. He has glasses on, ones that remind me of a very hot and sexual Harry Potter.

I find myself smiling.

I can definitely get used to this.

Maybe you died and this is your heaven, Kat.

My eyes automatically wander to my thighs and my smile falters as I take in all the bruises on them. Even Wolf's bite mark was covered by a larger, purple bruise.

This is actually your hell, Kat, my subconscious corrects itself.

Fragments of yesterday come to my mind. Raul and José, The Cecilia Hotel, the pill, the stench, the young girls, Salvatore, him on top of me, his fingers inside me, my pocketknife, the taste of blood, Wolf—— he came for me.

Wolf appears by my side and I quickly cover myself, bringing the bed sheets up to my neck.

I suddenly feel ashamed and self-conscious, dirty even.

Fuck, I wish I could turn invisible right now and not have to feel his burning and pitiful eyes on me.

I slightly shrink myself as he sits next to me on the bed, keeping my gaze lowered, too embarrassed to meet his hazel eyes.

"How are you feeling, Katarina?" He asks, laying his glasses on the nightstand.

My eyes slowly meet his, "Don't look at me that way," I mutter hoarsely, "Water, please."

I clear my dry throat. It burned and hurt.

Wolf hands me a glass of water that's resting on the nightstand.

"I just want to know if you're okay," his voice sounds slow and careful.

I let out a tired laugh, "Don't worry about me, Wolf, I've been through worst things than being finger-fucked."

Finger-raped, you mean?

I chew hard on the inside of my cheek to avoid vomiting right here in Wolf's bed at the memories.

He frowns, his eyes never leaving mine.

I feel my pulse speed up as I remember things clearer.

"There were young girls there, Wolf—-" I say in shaky voice, remembering the blonde girl, "We need to find them. They were being drugged and sexually abused—"

"Hey, hey," he puts his hand on top of mine but quickly pulls it away, "You need to breathe, love."

Love?

I take a few calming breaths and when Wolf is convinced I've calmed down he continues.

"The girls are okay, at least the ones that we could rescue. The hotel has been burned down and Ramon Salvatore is handless and dickless in whatever hospital Victor dropped him at."

I stare at my hands, at my swollen and bruised knuckles.

"I almost killed him, Wolf," hot tears burn my eyes, "If you wouldn't have gotten there in time I would've killed him," I swallow hard, "You know what the worst part is? That I wouldn't have regretted it."