Word Count: 2156

~Sienna

This is my second bath of my night. It doesn't feel like enough.

My skin is raw as I scrub at it. I know I can't physically remove Zion's stare from my body, but it feels good to try. I can still feel the weight of it, igniting an eruption of shivers over my skin.

The water sloshes around me. My teeth grind together, my jaw tight and strained.

How dare he ask about my mother. He forced her hand. She had to escape to save me, and although the trauma of my childhood has chased away most of my memories, I know he was a violent man.

The feeling of having so many gaps in my memory isn't just uncanny. It's haunting. I feel stripped of my agency.

I drop the brush I've been scrubbing my skin with over the edge of the tub, watching it clatter over the marble.

Zion didn't know she died. He didn't seem to care, anyway.

I gasp as an ache blooms in my chest, lurching up into my throat. My mother escaped in hopes that I would never know the horrors of my father's wrath again.

I can't escape him....

Leaning back until my head rests against the tub, I force calm over myself. Zion can't hurt me. Not here, not so overtly.

Just as I feel my body start to relax, a large hand is suddenly pressing atop my head, forcing my head under the water.

My gasp has water invading my mouth as I'm plunged under the surface. My body slips against the porcelain tub, the hand holding me under until my lungs start to burn.

My fingers manage to grasp the edge of the tub and I push back until my head is above the water. The taste of bath salts burn my mouth as I cough violently, a surge of adrenaline leaving me shaky.

Before I can force myself up, a thick cord passes around my face before pressing into my neck.

My assailant behind me tugs the cord tight, forcing me back against the tub again, cutting off my breath entirely.

I kick and struggle, the water sloshing about violently, tumbling over the side of the tub. My fingers pry into the rope, my nails cutting into my skin as I attempt to dig my fingers beneath the cord.

As my back presses against the edge of the tub, I feel the person behind me, breathing roughly into my ear.

In one swift movement, I tilt my head forward as much as I can before slamming it back into the head of my attacker.

They curse, the sound masculine and deep. They fall backward, loosening their grip on the rope enough for me to get my fingers beneath it. I rip it over my head, my subsequent gasp throaty and pained, but at least I can breathe.

I stumble from the bath, nearly slipping on the water spilt all across the marble floor.

My attacker is pulling themselves up off the ground, pressing a hand to their head. They wear cloth mask over their entire head, have dark gloves on and inconspicuous clothing.

There is no way I can know who this is. All I know is they are here to kill me.

I jump over them as I rush for the bathroom door. However, they wrap their hand around my ankle and pull hard, causing me to fall straight onto my stomach.

My arms manage to catch myself before the wind is knocked from my lungs. Pain echoes through my limbs as I'm yanked through the water toward my attacker, who has righted themselves.

Once I'm close, I kick out, managing to hit their knee. Their leg buckles, loosening their grip on me enough for me to scramble back up.

I make it through the bathroom door and into the bedroom before the attacker has his hand on me again.

They wrap their arms around my middle, yanking me against their front. They hold be tight, dragging me toward the bedroom window.

My feet slip against the floor as I try to no avail to shove them off.

Suddenly, the vase I admired when I first came into this room catches my eye. It's obviously worth a ridiculous sum of money, and is filled to the brim with a vibrant flower arrangement.

As I'm dragged past it's place on the fireplace mantle, I sweep it off, watching it shatter on the floor, water spilling out across the rug, coating the bronze shards from the vase.

Heaving my bodyweight forward, one of the attackers arms comes loose from around my waist, allowing me to slip forward enough to grasp one of the shards of the vase.

Lurching my arm back, I stab the shard into the attackers bicep.

The feeling is far from pleasant and nearly has a gag lurching from my throat as I sink the shard as deep into the flesh of his leg as possible.

His following scream is almost a groan as he loosens his grip on me. Yanking the shard out again I turn, ignoring the way his blood leaks down onto my hand, weaving through my fingers before travelling down my arm.

I thrust the shard forward at his face, still covered in the mask. Even in his state he whips head head out of the way just in time, snapping his hand out to latch onto my wrist.

Using my other arm, I punch him across the face, although it's weak and only just grazes his jaw.

It rattles his mask enough for me to see the cut of a jaw before I'm shoved back.

I land on my back, the jarring impact causing my teeth to clatter together.

My attacker forces himself up, growling as I imagine the pain from his bleeding wound cuts through him. It doesn't stop him from leaning down to punch me across the face with such force it has my head snapping to the side.

I gasp through the pain, through the shock of the impact.

When he stands, he kicks me in the stomach, the impact forcing the last of the air from my lungs.

My gasps are silent as I clutch the my tense, injured abdomen. No amount of breaths seem to be enough as white sparks in my vision.

Vacantly I hear the window slide open, the attacker jumping out into the night.

He's gone.

He came in with the intention of killing me, and when he had me at my most vulnerable he left. Either he sensed danger or me stabbing him scared him off...either way, I'm alive.

All I can do is lie there until each breath doesn't hurt, my panic subsiding.

As each lasting ounce of adrenaline leaves my body, the pain replaces it. I curl my legs up to my chest, feeling every inch of my body protest at the beating I just received.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, my bare skin dampened by the water, my hands trembling as they hold my stomach. My throat is raw from where my air flow was cut off, and my cheek throbs.

Eventually the door opens, a familiar pair of boots appearing in my vision.

"I brought you some dessert...Sienna?"

Onyx immediately drops to a crouch in front of me. I nearly cry the dichotomy of gentle hands on aching skin.

I roll onto my back, drawing in a shaky breathe. "Ow."

Onyx's face comes into my view. His expression is knotted with concern, confusion and tinged with anger. He's reeling, caught between trying to see how injured I really am while ascertaining how this happened.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

His gaze drops to my neck, his brow creasing.

"What the fuck..."

"I got attacked. In the bath." My voice sounds disjointed, like it doesn't belong to me. Speaking leaves my throat raw, deepening what feels like the permanent grimace of my face.

"What did they do to you?" His voice is wrought with tension.

He drops a box of what I assume was my dessert next to me before he snatches a blanket off the couch, draping it over my body.

I feel tears prick my eyes as he gently slides his hands under me, leaning me up until I'm pressed against him, his arms banding around me securely.

"He tried to drown me, and when that didn't work, he put a cord around me and tried to strangle me." I squeeze my eyes shut, my mind replaying the violent memory. "I fought him off, but he got a hit in, and kicked me in the stomach."

Onyx's consequent growl reverberates through me. His anger is so palpable I can practically feel it in the air, swirling around us chaotically.

He raises my quivering hand, his eyes blacker than I remember as they examine what stains my skin.

"Is this your blood?"

I shake my head. "No, it's his."

"Good girl," he murmurs, lifting me onto the couch. He steps back so he can get a better look at my tear soaked face, which imagine is beginning to swell from the punch. "Fuck, I don't think there are healers here."

"I'm fine, seriously," I assure him quietly, barely able to speak much above a whisper.

He looks toward the window, the curtains billow around it from the wind.

"Did you see who did this?"

"I don't know, he was wearing a mask." I point hopelessly in the direction of where he is looking. "He escaped through the window."

He draws in a deep breath, tapping a finger against his lower lip as he thinks. He's gone into full protection mode and I doubt anything is going to pull him from that.

"Wait here," he instructs.

He quickly shuts the window before sweeping from the room.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I wince. The panic is starting to subside, allowing the true extent of my pain to bleed into my subconscious.

A few minutes pass before Onyx is back in the room after. His hair is mussed and frazzled from constantly brushing his hands through it.

"I told Alston. He's sending guards to go look for who did this to you," he tells me, coming back to my side.

I clutch his hands. "You're not going?"

"I'm not leaving you like this, alone." His eyes shift from my eyes to my neck, and back again. "We need to get you to a healer, then I'm taking you home."

I lean my body against Onyx's, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. I don't feel the desperate need to escape, to run from the window only a few feet away from me. Onyx is here, and by his side, nothing bad can happen to me.

"Who would do this to me?" I whisper.

"I'm hoping no one here, but I have my suspicions," he mutters. "You don't deserve this. This is my fault."

I look up at him through my lashes, slowly shaking my head.

This could be Zion, but I doubt it. It's too obvious, too blatant. He can't risk hurting me when there are so many of his allies and enemies around. If they knew he did this, he would lose all his support.

"It's not. This could be Kayn, or...someone else targeting me for a reason that has nothing to do with you," I say.

My mind wanders back to the notes I've been receiving. It has to be whoever is writing them.

If I don't tell Onyx the truth about who I am soon, whoever is doing this is finally going to get their way by killing me.

They got close. So close. Had I made one wrong move, I would be dead right now.

"I just hate seeing you hurt." Onyx smooths his hand carefully over my face, ensuring his fingers don't brush against my swelling skin. "I'm going to find who did this, and I'm going to subject them to something far worse than death."

There's restrained violence in his expression, etched so deep is makes me shudder. I've always been able to rely on my friend, so I hope he can make good on his promise.

"I'm okay Onyx," I assure him before my hands drop to my abdomen. "My stomach hurts though."

He gently helps me to stand. "You're going to be okay. I'm taking you to a healer, and then we are getting out of here."

🤎••🤎

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~Midika 💜🐼