_______
_______
The past month of dating Dominic felt like the first breath of fresh air after I had been drowning; which might seem like an exaggeration, but it truly wasn't. My experiences with him were like no other, and for the first time in my whole life, I felt wanted. Never for a second did he make me feel like I was less than his everything— and to be honest, it was a little bit scary.
I never thought I could move so fast with someone in such little time.
Today, on the first of August, Dominic and I stood beneath the shelter of an umbrella in front of the meticulously kept grave of his mother. The tombstone was clean with precisely cut edges, standing tall amidst the peaceful resting place. Fresh bouquets of flowers adorned the site, their vibrant hues were likely left by other visitors who had already paid their respects today.
____
'In memory of
Diana Vincenza D'Angelo
Beloved Mother, Sister, and Friend
April 25th, 1978 - August 1st, 2009'
____
Dominic returned to my side with a quiet strength after resting a beautiful bouquet of familiar purple flowers, their intricate details catching the muted light. It was only after reading his mother's gravestone that I realized the significance of the large bow and arrow tattoo of his back.
Her name was Diana, and though I didn't pay too much attention in my Greek Mythology class, I was almost positive of her name's meaning.
I held Dominic's hand, its warmth a comforting anchor in the quiet cemetery. My cheek nestled against the soft fabric of his coat as I traced the lines of his forearm, a silent gesture of support. Amid the hushed whispers of nature, I mustered the courage to break the delicate silence.
"The flower on your desk that Antonio left after he visited— are those the same ones?" I asked, my voice a gentle breeze. My curiosity had spiked since that realization. Though I didn't remember vividly, I did recall the flower left on his desk being a similar shade of blue-purple; and the strange action must've held some sort of significance. Otherwise, why would Antonio leave a single flower for the son he couldn't care less about?
"That was a pansy. My mother used have all sorts of them in vases when I was younger, but I'm nearly positive she only did that to please my father. Now, he leaves them in attempt to torment me."
"But it doesn't?"
A bittersweet smile played on his lips. "Because they weren't her favourites," he confessed, his head shaking ever so slightly.
"And what were they?"
It was only then when he looked at me, with his captivating features eyeing me down."Violets," he uttered, and in that simple word, I felt the weight of memories, love, and loss.
My lips parted, a subtle acknowledgment of the weight of that simple, yet profoundly significant word. Even though it was merely a coincidence; it felt like a bridge connecting the both of us— something that I couldn't quite explain. Though before I could respond, Dominic's head whipped around, and he quickly pulled me by my wrist, turning us away from the grave.
"We need to go," his urgent voice cut through my thoughts.
"What? Why?" I stammered, my breath catching in the cold, damp air, and my eyes widened with awareness.
"Russians," he whispered, his words barely audible over the relentless rain. He beckoned me closer. "Keep your head down, and walk with me." His eyes scanned the graveyard, searching for any signs of movement.
"How many?"
"Seven," he said quickly, his steps a lot faster than mine. "Are you armed?"
"Yes," I confessed.
"Hide it in the sleeve of your coat," he instructed with a hushed intensity. He handed me the keys to his car, something he'd never even thought about letting me hold before. "Take these, and get in the car."
I clutched the keys in my left hand as my fingers fumbled over the gun in my right. The cold metal met my skin, sending a slight shiver down my spine. "Drive along the highway, about a mile north, then turn right and park in the ditch by that red sign. Do you remember?"
"A mile? Are you insane?" The disbelief in my voice mingled with my strangling emotions as I stopped in my steps. "What about you?" I implored.
"Don't worry about me."
"Dom—"
"Please." His interruption carried a plea, the desperation beneath his stoic facade laid bare. In the midst of rain-soaked gravestones, his words resonated with an unspoken yearning. "I just need you safe."
"I can't leave you," I began, but his hand moved along my back with a gentle urgency, pulling me towards the nearest tree where the shadows provided a fleeting refuge. We were concealed now, shielded from the prying eyes of those who wanted us killed. He pressed me against the rough bark, our bodies close, and the raindrops glistened on his hair like tiny diamonds.
He kissed me suddenly, a mixture of warmth and rain cascading over us. The cold water mingled with the warmth of his lips, creating a paradoxical sensation that— in those seconds— caused the worries and anxieties that had gripped my body to dissipate, lost in the intensity of the unexpected passion of our quick and stolen moment; away from the chaos, away from the separation, away from the fear.
I think he knew that that was just what I needed— he always knew.
"Trust me," he said, his voice a haunting and unwavering determination. "I'll be right behind you, I promise." His eyes, intense and searching, held a pledge that transcended words. He placed a small alarm in my trembling hand with the keys, its metallic surface cool against my skin.
Dominic's fingers lingered for a moment longer. "If something goes wrong, just pull on this," he instructed, his gaze locked onto mine as if imprinting the gravity of the situation.
In the blink of an eye, Dominic transitioned from the weight of mourning his mother to becoming still on the idea of our safety. His eyes, still reflecting the echoes of grief, now held a newfound determination as he clocked his own gun in place. It was as if the depth of his own sorrow had seamlessly woven into an unwavering commitment.
It's just one mile, Violet.
He handed me the umbrella as I stepped away, making my way towards where the car was parked. The slow, deliberate pace with which I started soon morphed into an anxious jog, paranoia nudging me to quicken my steps. And then, as soon as I reached the driver's side, like a sickening plan, both the keys and alarm slipped from my grasp.
"Shit," I mumbled, a muttered curse escaping my lips as the objects clattered onto the unforgiving pavement. In a hasty attempt to salvage the situation, I crouched down, fingers fumbling to retrieve the fallen items. Yet, before I could secure them, an unexpected grip seized me, the hands foreign and forceful.
The man came out of absolutely nowhere.
Reacting on instinct, I pivoted swiftly, elbow connecting with their torso in a sharp, calculated motion. The assailant grunted, momentarily stunned by the counterattack. Seizing the opportunity, I whirled around, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and hit him straight in the face with the closed umbrella.
Four years of baseball paid off, I guess.
"Cука!" he yelled, the harsh Russian word echoing. (Bitch)
I seized the moment to collect the keys from the ground, feeling the cold metal against my trembling fingers. With a determined focus, I pressed the button to unlock the car door. Anticipation hung in the air as I pulled the door open, only to be met with stubborn resistance.
Why won't this piece of shit open?!
The Russian man, recovering swiftly, closed the distance and wrapped a forceful hand around my throat. He pinned me to the car's exterior, my airstream tightening.
My heart froze in a moment of paralyzing dread when I caught the glint of his gun. Time seemed to slow as he pressed the cold metal against my jaw. The metallic taste of fear clung to the air as the gun's ominous silhouette became an extension of the threat that loomed over me.
"You're lucky I was ordered not to kill you. Otherwise, your pretty face wouldn't be so pretty anymore." His words carried a dangerous edge as his hand tightened around my throat, the threat palpable.
"You think I'm pretty?" I teased, a daring smirk playing on my lips as his nose ran with a crimson colour due to my hit from the umbrella. The tension in the air heightened, and his anger surged. In response, he violently slammed me against the car, the impact making the world momentarily blur as the back of my head collided with unforgiving metal, eliciting a wince. My ears begun to ring, loud, as well as my eyes well with tears.
That was probably a bad idea on my part.
Luckily for me, his gun was on safety.
Refusing to succumb, I instinctively reached into my sleeve, fingers wrapping around the concealed firearm. The cold metal offered a reassuring grip as I pulled it out, the weight of the situation hanging in the rain-soaked air.
Despite the knowledge that I couldn't deliver a fatal blow, a surge of adrenaline propelled me to aim the gun down towards his foot, my fingers clenching the trigger. The gunshot tore through the air, its sharp report merging with the bloodcurdling scream that erupted from him.
Stumbling backward, he clutched his injured foot, the pain etched across his face. Seizing the opportunity, I swung the end of the gun with precision, the hard impact connecting with the side of his head. A sickening thud accompanied his descent to the ground, the rain-soaked pavement adding a layer of grim reality to the scene.
As he sprawled on the ground, I surveyed the aftermath. The sound of countless other gunshots— which I could only assume were from Dominic— pierced through the cemetery, and they weren't too far.
My head throbbed relentlessly as I left.
_______
I sat there, the car parked within a ditch on the desolate highway. Time seemed to stretch, each minute feeling like an eternity as I huddled against the car door. My legs were curled and tucked in by my chest, seeking comfort in the fetal position, while my fingers instinctively spun my smooth wedding ring over my trembling knuckle.
The rain, a constant companion, offered a comforting sound as it splashed against the windshield. Yet, the soothing noise wasn't enough to drown out the persistent worries echoing in my mind.
In the rear-view mirror, I watched with a mix of curiosity and trepidation as an unfamiliar motor vehicle emerged from the rainy veil, approaching the car with deliberate intent. The world outside blurred into a watery haze, the highway's edge disappearing into misty obscurity, making it challenging to discern details until the bike came to a stop a few feet behind.
Cautiously, I retrieved the gun from the passenger seat, the cold metal meeting the warmth of my palm. With a deliberate motion, I clicked it out of safety, the distinct sound echoing in the confined space of the car. Despite the relative safety within the bulletproof windows and locked doors of the car, a latent sense of unease lingered in the air.
Though, as I examined the man dismounting the motorcycle, it was quickly obvious that he didn't pose a threat. With slick and calculated motions, he removed the helmet that he wore; revealing a strong, dark haired, and persistent man— the only man in the world that could provide me with a sense of haven.
I leaped out of the car, my steps quickening to meet Dominic halfway. As soon as we met, he enveloped me in an embrace, his hands cradling my face with a gentleness that contradicted the chaos that had just transpired.
His palms, warm and reassuring, framed both sides of my cheeks, his intense gaze scanning every nuance of my face as if seeking solace in the familiarity of my features. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, brushing the wet hair the was stuck to my face.
"I didn't..." My hands trembled uncontrollably, the aftermath of adrenaline coursing through me, an involuntary response to the recent chaos.
"Are you hurt?" he repeated, his touch trailing up and down my body with a delicate urgency. He unfastened my coat, revealing the layers beneath, and his hand found its place on my stomach, the other remaining firm against my face. With careful intent, he lifted my shirt, pressing his palm to my skin in a meticulous search for any hidden wounds.
"I couldn't—"
"Violet, are you hurt?" His repetition held a cadence of both urgency and reassurance, his touch a delicate exploration beneath the rain-soaked layers.
"I hit my head," I stammered, soaked and disoriented.
"How badly?"
"I don't know."
"Come here," he said, urgency coloring his voice as he made us over to the car and swiftly opened the door, pulling me into the back seat. The interior light flickered to life, casting a dim glow as he gently guided me into a seated position. He crouched beside me, his hands moving with practiced care as he examined my eyes, searching for any signs amidst the dimly lit car.
My lips couldn't help but quirk into a smile as I realized the last time we were back here was during our first time together. The contrast between our circumstances from then and now was strange— but in a good way. I was sure that if I would have known I would married this man, I would've had a stroke.
"I'm probably fine. I don't think it's a concussion or anything," I assured, my voice carrying a shaky reassurance, while he gently took my still trembling hands into his.
"You're shaking."
"I know."
Gently, he raised my hands up to his mouth. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his lips brushing against my fingers, pressing a feather light kiss onto the cold skin. "I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have let you go alone."
"You made the right call. If you'd have come with me, then they would've followed us."
Dominic continued to share his insights on the situation, explaining how he believed the Russians only wanted me to lure him in and that they sought me as a hostage. He outlined his confidence that there likely wasn't anything I could have done to prevent their actions. However, my thoughts drifted, tuning out the specifics as the weight of the day's events settled into a quiet corner of my mind.
"It's only a matter of time," he said.
"Right."
________
A/N.
bro why am i so single ☹️
↳ happy heather day!
words (2500)