She feels the blood rush to her head as she hangs upside down from the man's shoulder. "Let me go!" She hits him again, and it seems that the goons know her husband as she is being put down the next moment. She sways on her feet, tripping backward, and she would have fallen if not for the hard chest pressing against her back.
Large hands grip her waist to steady her, and she looks down to see the snake on her husband's hand looking up at her, its ruby eyes shining in hatred. Zmey, she thinks to herself. "Zmey, we didn't know she was with you," One of the goons says, sheepish, and she feels his hands tighten around her, but she is too lightheaded to understand what is happening, although she is happy to be saved.
She turns around in Damien's arms, frowning at him. "You are an ass," she curses mentally as their eyes meet almost taken aback by the anger she finds directed at her in his eyes. She has half a mind to push him away, but thinks better of it when she feels her knees buckle, making him hold her even tighter.
"Deal with them," she hears her husband growl before she is lifted off the ground.
The sky spins and so does her head as Damien cradles her in his arms, her fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket as she tries to fight the fear that he might drop her any moment. There is commotion around them, the sound of punches being thrown and men groaning, but she can't quite make sense of anything. Not long after, she is placed gently in the passenger seat of a car, her bleary vision following the ink on her husband's fingers as he fastens her belt, rounding the front and getting in the driver seat himself once he is done.
Belatedly, she notes the unfamiliar interior of the vehicle, maroon and black leather that matches the bike he was using in the race. "Whose car is this? I don't remember this being on the list our managers provided." Thankfully, she doesn't sound like she is losing her mind.
"You really want to keep that mouth shut right now?" her husband sneers, his jaw locked while he switches gears, his fingers pressing against the car display as he calls someone.
Serafina frowns as the call starts to ring. "Why are you angry with me? It should be the other way around. It IS the other way around. I just... my head is spinning," she trails off as the call is picked up from the other side.
Her husband's silent 'fuck' gets lost in Karly's voice from the other side. "Damien, thank goodness, I have been trying to get hold of you all evening. About the Sensor Tech. meeting-"
"Did you ask Serafina to look for me?" He cuts her off, his anger seems to be boiling over by the minute, a growl in his voice that has even Serafina wanting to inch away.
"Is she with you? Wait, where is she?" She can hear the alarm in Karly's voice.
Just when Serafina is about to open her mouth to tell her she is here, she is cut off by Damien, "So you did. Don't bother coming to the office tomorrow. Your stuff will be sent to your house," he sneers.
"Wait... what? Damien, are you firing me?" Serafina's eyes widen as she looks up at her husband in disbelief. Surely, he isn't going to fire his manager of five years over this?
"I don't repeat myself," and then he cuts off the call, maneuvering the car towards the hospital.
"Damien, you can't do that. Wh-where are you taking me?" She asks, bewildered by the anger and tightness in his body, having not witnessed him like this before. She never imagined that coming so close to being assaulted would finally provoke the reaction from Damien Alistair Kyng that she had sought her entire life.
"Not a word, Serafina." he looks her dead in the eye as he commands, and while Serafina wants to be defiant cause how dare he command her like that? Something inside tells her it's better to stay silent.
Damien helps her out of the car and inside the hospital, where not long after, she finds herself sitting in front of a doctor. "So you fell, that's all? What about the bruise on your cheek?" The doctor eyes her husband with suspicion as she gives her the tetanus shot.
"I fell on my face. As you can see, I'm quite tipsy," she sasses at her, not wanting to be in the bright lights any longer.
"Can you please check if there is any concussion? Her balance is quite off." Her husband provides from behind her, and she almost rolls her eyes at his worried tone.
Wait, worried? She is tempted to look at him to make sure he is in fact, worried about her concussion, but decides against it when she notes the doctor's suspicious gaze directed at her husband. This is fun.
"That, or it can be just due to the tipsiness. I'll perform an exam, anyway," And she does, only to find that Serafina doesn't have a concussion.
She lets them go with a painkiller and a small piece of paper tucked secretly into Serafina's palm when Damien wasn't looking. Serafina laughs when she notices it's the contact number of a domestic violence helpline as Damien settles into the driver's seat beside her. "She thought you were physically abusing me," she mutters amusedly.
"Well, that is far from the truth, as the abuser would be you." Damien's mood appears to have brightened over the last hour they've spent in the hospital, and Serafina silently thanks the heavens for it. Surprisingly, dealing with an angry Damien is far more challenging than managing a cocky one.
Yes, she prefers cocky Damien, screw her.
She rubs her cheek, the sting still causing her eyes to water, and she makes a mental note to ice it later. This isn't how she planned the first night of her honeymoon to go, but life is unpredictable. She realizes she might scream at Damien tomorrow when the bruise gets worse, but for now, she can't bother with being angry, too drained from the events of the day.
They reach the hotel in silence, Serafina finding it difficult to pick her feet off the ground, her eyes threatening to close. The elevator makes a silent buzzing noise, making her even sleepier as she leans back against the wall before it dings open in the honeymoon suite.
When she first came here, she hated that there was only one bed in the suite, wondering if she could rent another suite without the information leaking. But now, it doesn't seem to matter all that much to her as she hurries to change and flop into bed.
As midnight blue eyes close, she is out like a light.
*
Fire burns in her gut as she lies against the cold, hard ground.
The sky is orange and red, and birds that look like reptiles are flying atop the treeline as she feels the moistness of the ditch she is lying in seep into her skin; she wonders if it will quench the fire in her lungs and belly.
She can't move her hands and legs, feeling like she is paralyzed completely, and she wonders if she is dead. But surely, you can't see the sky from a grave.
Her heart hurts for whatever reason, tears rolling down her cheeks as she squeezes them shut. She thinks this is the end, the moist earth will swallow her, along with all her fire and hate and... love.
She doesn't know what she is feeling, a feeling of loss so profound she can't seem to comprehend it.
And then, she sees it. The red head of a snake as it rises off the ledge of the ditch. It's so big, bigger than her, big enough to hide the sky.
She feels fear engulf her, her throat closing in as she watches the snake slither around the ditch.
Her mind tells her to fear it, but somewhere she feels hope, and she doesn't understand why.
And then, the snake coils over the ditch as if to make sure that she can't escape, not that she can move anyway... or is it for protection? So that no one can see her.
She bites her lip when the hope blooms louder in her veins as the snake makes eye contact with her for the first time.
But instead of a scream, all she manages to let out is a name.
Pitiful Sadness.
"Zmey."
*