Chapter 88: My tormentor saved me?
Chapter 88
KATYA POV
The room exploded into motion.
Alarms wailed. Voices overlapped each other.
Someone shoved a crash cart past me, the wheels screeching across the tile.
I still didn’t move.
Doctor Isabella—the real one—snatched the shock pads from a nurse. "Clear!"
Romeo’s body jolted. The monitor screamed its awful tone.
From the looks of it, he was dying.
"Again!" Isabella barked. Another surge, another jolt. The smell of burnt metal and antiseptic bit the air.
No one looked my side, Mr Antonio was still stationed at the door, looking restless."Come on, come on,"
A flicker—Then the heart monitor blipped once... twice... getting steadied into a rhythm.
Gasps went through the staffs. "He’s stable," Doctor Isabella said with relief to Mr Antonio who exhaled words in Italian.
Only then did eyes cut toward me. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.
One from the two individuals who dragged me here, spoke. "Who are you?"
I had nothing to say, who was I but before I could answer, Mr. Antonio stepped closer into the room, gaze sharp.
"Katya?" he said instantly."What the hell are you doing here?"
The nurses turned, murmuring. I stumbled back, words clawing at my throat. "I... I—"
Antonio’s jaw clenched. He walked towards me and ripped the face mask out from my hidden face.
"I fucking knew you shouldn’t be trusted." He gripped my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin that was already raw and bruised, wrapped in bandages.
I winced at the intense pain that flared. "Stop—please," I gasped, white-hot pain shooting through my arm.
But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look at me.
Mr Antonio’s jaw clenched, his expression carved from ice as he dragged me through the hallway.
"You’ve got some nerve," he sharply muttered. His voice was dangerously low—this was not the same man who’d helped me with Miss Red.
He looked stressed and irritated, snapping, "Walking around like you belong here."
"I—I didn’t mean to—"
"Shut up."
His tone cut through me. My wrist throbbed violently, and tears stung my eyes. "I wasn’t doing anything! I swear!" The pain in my arm intensified. I twisted, trying to pull away, but his hand was unyielding.
"Please! You’re hurting me!"
His only response was a tighter grip.
He threw a glance over his shoulder, eyes dark. "You shouldn’t even be alive. It’s all your fault that Romeo is fighting for his damned life. If only he had just let you take that fucking bullet."
My whole world stopped at the sentence. I couldn’t process what he was saying. It was my fault?
My tormentor took a bullet for me? I almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the words.
Never in a million years would Mr. Salvatore take a fucking bullet because of me. He was a self-centered asshole.
But then... why was he fighting for his life in that bed? The thought ran over my head again and again.
The hallway blurred past me, sterile lights flickering above like flashes of judgment.
Antonio’s grip never eased. His hand was iron around my wrist, pressing into the bruises until I could feel every heartbeat pulse against his hold.
I swallowed, fear coiling in my gut at the shocking revelation."I didn’t even know he was in that room." I tried pleading my case but
The elevator doors slid open with a chime, and Antonio shoved me inside without looking, hitting my head on the walls.
Pain flared through my head and arm, with a choked sound escaping my throat.
"Mio Dio!" (My God!) The sharp cry rang beside me. Through the haze in my eyes, I saw an old woman in a wheelchair—and next to her, Miss Stella.
Tears filled my eyes at the sight of her.
"Antonio?!" The old woman shouted, her voice sharp and commanding despite her frail frame "What the hell do you think you’re doing"
Mr Antonio stiffened instantly, "Signora—" The elevator doors hadn’t even closed yet when her tone froze everyone in place.
Even seated in her wheelchair, her presence filled the corridor, regal and sharp."Is that how you treat a young woman in my house? What has gotten into you, Antonio?"
"Nonna, it’s not what it looks like—" Antonio began, voice taut.
"I don’t want to hear your excuses!" she snapped, eyes narrowing. "You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’ll stand here and watch you manhandle someone half your size!"
A warm hand touched my shoulder. I turned, blinking through tears.
"Shh, it’s alright now," Miss Stella murmured, slipping to my side. Her soft, familiar voice broke something deep inside me. "Are you alright?"
"Miss Stella..." My voice cracked.
She cupped my cheek, eyes glistening with worry. "You poor thing. Look at your wrists." Her tone sharpened, cutting toward Antonio like a blade. "You’ve bruised her even more."
Nonna gasped, eyes widening as she noticed the blood-tinted bandages, the swollen skin, the trembling.
Miss Stella helped me straighten, her arm steady around my waist. "Come, dear, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re shaking."
She didn’t say a word about my stolen clothes.
The blue clothes I had stolen. "I... I’m sorry," I whispered, voice breaking.
I felt so stupid for leaving that room, I should have just... stayed put...maybe even peed on myself than walking into this mess."I didn’t mean to cause trouble."
The old lady sharp expression softened the moment her gaze fell back to me. "Trouble? Nonsense. You did nothing wrong, child." Her eyes flicked over my face, assessing, protective. "What’s your name?"
"K-Katya."
"Katya." Nonna said my name slowly, like she was tasting it. "You’re safe now, cara mia. No one will touch you again." Her words hit something deep — something I’d buried long ago
Safe. Anyone who said that always ended up hurt... because of me.
Behind us, Antonio’s phone buzzed. He turned sharply away, muttering under his breath.
Miss Stella caught Nonna’s gaze, a silent exchange passing between them. One of understanding... and secrets.
"Come," Nonna said softly, gesturing to Miss Stella. "Bring her with us. We’ll talk somewhere private. Clearly, there’s more to this story than I’ve been told."
My breath hitched. What story had been told?