𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

29

~ phoenix ~

Ilya's expression plummeted as I increased the distance between us. Something flickered in his eyes, like he was returning to reality, before their hue became their usual hard granite.

"Save them," I pleaded, quietly.

Silence.

"Ilya..."

More silence.

"PLEASE!" I eventually burst, "save them, Ilya. And I swear-"

He narrowed his eyes. "You swore last time and you left. You betrayed me," he scoffed, coldly.

"I-I-" I struggled for words; there was no time to explain myself so instead, I offered him what he wanted from the beginning. "I'll sign a blood contract. I-I'll be yours," I vowed, meeting his intense stare, "forever."

Ilya shifted further back. "I cannot trust you."

Frantically, I grabbed his hands. "Please! Please! Don't let them die. Just-" I began to sob uncontrollably.

Seeing the resolved iciness in his stare, I let go of the damn monster and crawled backwards to my friends. I pressed my ear into Tabitha's chest, feeling a faint thumping. Then, I scurried over to Gianna, who was still unconscious. I saw the fog of her shallow breaths in the air.

I turned around, desperate to try again. "Ilya-"

But he was gone.

"Ilya? Ilya!" I begged, a flood of tears on my cheeks.

Unexpectedly, he returned from the shadows. Behind him: two men. I recognised Aleksey's familiar face. They all wore somber expressions.

"Идти," Ilya suddenly barked. [Go.]

I froze like a deer in headlights when Aleksey and another man approached where I sat crouched between my two friends. What were they going to do? Wordlessly, they stooped down. Aleksey carefully wrapped his arms around Gianna, before rising again. The other did the same with Tabby, but grimacing at the wounds on her stomach.

A tide of guilt drowned every last piece of the old me that was left. I did that. I'm the monster.

I followed them with sceptical panic. Were they really helping us? They trudged outside, where the air was grey with ash and the ground was littered with debris and bullets. However, before I could follow them into the big truck, a hand pulled me aside.

Ilya dragged me towards that familiar black sportscar. I wanted to protest but seeing the stormy glaze in his eyes, I decided against it. Obediently, I sat beside him as he shot away from the burning building and towards the Polish mountains. The sun was beginning to set, a breathtaking crimson lining the sky. I looked away, being reminded of the blood. Not long after, I spotted the glimmering lights of a busy city. I released a breath of relief. We were going to get help.

The air in the car was crackling with tension. I snuck a glance at Ilya's white fists on the steering wheel. He was in a dangerous mood. The tyres of the Lamborghini squealed as he turned a sharp corner. Despite the seat belt that was secure against my torso, I was flung to the side. A bright, bursting sting exploded on the arm that was pressed against the door. I couldn't help but cry out in pain.

Immediately, he slammed down on the brakes. I felt the burn of his stare on my neck and a humiliated flush coloured my cheeks. I tried to ignore him, looking down at the wound. Something was glinting on my skin. It appeared to have been pierced by a shard of glass. With reluctance, I raised my fingers to pull out the sharp fragment. It didn't get far before Ilya swatted it away.

Then, he leaned across me to reach into the passenger side compartment. He returned to his seat with what looked like a first aid kit. My gaze flickered between him and the supplies warily whilst he stared at me expectantly.

"Let me see," he said, eventually.

I shook my head, vehemently, regretting it instantly when a wave of dizziness hit. "I'm fine," I mumbled, through an intense headache.

"Phoenix," he growled after a long sigh, "I wasn't asking."

A flash of anger heated my blood. "Ilya, I don't need your-"

He didn't even let me finish my protest. Grabbing my good arm, he dragged me forwards until I felt his breath on my cheek. Our glares battled against each other. Then, suddenly, his hands snaked around my back and ripped open the sleeve of my thin chemise. I gasped.

"I don't let what's mine," he gritted, reminding me of my promise, "get hurt."

I huffed an angry breath, sagging against him as he used tweezers to pick out the glass from my skin. I hissed in pain and clenched his sticky shirt in a tight fist when I felt a needle pierce my flesh. With every stitch, I felt blood rushing to my head. The soft caress of his fingers as they descended with the needle helped to cool the searing pain. I focused on the light buzzing of my skin under his hot touch rather than the pouring headache behind my temples.

By the time he was done, I could no longer pick myself up. After darkness descended, and my eyes were firmly shut, the weight of a calloused hand descended on my skin to smooth away the hair from my face, leaving a warm sensation in the pit of my belly.

𝑥𝑜
𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖎