Black Widow | 18+

20 | Regroup

Leandro 

I woke up at half-two in the morning, my heart hammering in my chest, beads of sweat running down my neck and forehead. 

On high alert, I shot up as soon as I woke from the nightmare, scanning the room. The city lights had been dimmed by the thick linen curtains, and I noticed that those panoramic windows weren't mine. 

A sigh of relief left me as I ran a hand through my hair. 

I had forgotten where I was for a split second, not quite differentiating reality from the prior nightmare.

I looked to the door, checking that it had been left open as we had done earlier, before looking down at the woman shifting in her sleep next to me. 

I was fine. 

More importantly, she was safe and by my side.

I must've had that dream hundreds of times, and every time I woke up as shaken as the first time I'd ever had it. 

I debated on getting back to sleep, but I was too worked up in the moment, so I placed a kiss on her temple, allowing my lips to linger there as I felt the gratitude of Artemisia being okay, before climbing out of the large bed and making my way to the kitchen. 

That nightmare was horrendous. 

I never saw her, and her voice sounded much more mature than it did when I heard her during those phone calls, but I knew it was Artemisia crying for help and begging for mercy. 

I felt that same pain, fear and anger in my body when I woke up from that nightmare as I did when those phone calls were actually happening. 

I saw a line of men smirking at me as I stood, my feet glued to the ground as I stood there, just letting it happen. Not trying to follow her voice. 

In my head it wasn't too far off the truth. 

I may have searched for her, tracked phones, done analysis and killed my own father and his closest men apart from Matteo for her. 

But I didn't rescue her, just like how I didn't in that nightmare either. 

I pressed my hands on the edge of the large marble island in the kitchen before allowing my head to drop, shutting my eyes and resonating in the fact that Artemisia was safe, and sleeping next to me. 

But it was fucking difficult. 

I didn't know how she had found the room in her heart to love me, it seemed like the most unlikely miracle that had ever graced the planet; but she did, and I had to hold onto that whenever I felt like spiralling. 

I didn't even want to call it a honeymoon, because to me it was anything but, and the entire time I thought about Artemisia, especially when I had that fucking nightmare. 

I made my way over to the bar in the far corner of the large kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and bringing it to my lips and taking a large amount of the liquid in one go. 

I needed immediate relief. 

I sauntered over to the sliding doors, the low hum of the city still audible and I put my attention on the glowing lights in the distance. I thought about how Artemisia would've grown up in the city, what her everyday would've been like, how her formative days with David would've started. 

The guilt and self-hatred began to creep in again, so I drank even more of the whiskey before putting back on the island and leaning back to watch over the city.