Chapter 13
581 Words
Elinya's pov
His footsteps were slow.
Measured.
Heavy with authority.
Izar Alexandra Volkovich walked toward me, each step deliberate, as if the space itself parted for him. I straightened instinctively, clasping my hands tightly in front of me, fingers digging into my palms. I forced my shoulders back, my chin up—training and instinct battling fear.
Stay calm, I told myself.
You are a doctor.
But my breath betrayed me.
It came uneven, shallow, trembling despite my efforts.
He stopped.
Five feet away.
Up close, the difference between us was terrifying.
Izar Alexandra Volkovich towered over me—broad shoulders, a powerful frame built like a weapon rather than a man. I had to tilt my head slightly just to meet his gaze, and even then, it felt wrong… like prey daring to look at a predator. He looked ten times bigger, not just in size, but in presence—as if the space he occupied bent around him.
His aura hit me fully then.
Cold. Heavy. Suffocating.
It wrapped around my chest, pressing the air from my lungs, making my instincts scream to step back—even though my feet were frozen to the floor. This wasn’t fear born from imagination. It was primal. Ancient. The kind of fear the body recognizes before the mind can reason.
His hazel eyes fixed on me—sharp, distant, completely devoid of warmth. Not anger. Not curiosity.
Assessment.
He didn’t rush.
He didn’t speak.
He simply observed.
From my face to my posture, down to my clenched hands—like he was measuring my worth, my strength, my usefulness. Standing that close to him felt like standing too near a blade—one wrong movement, and I would be cut without warning.
My breath trembled despite my efforts.
And I realized then—
This man wasn’t dangerous because of what he might do.
He was dangerous because he didn’t need to do anything at all..
Then the man beside him stepped forward.
He held out a black card—smooth, heavy, elegant. I hesitated for half a second before taking it. My fingers brushed the edge, cold against my skin.
There was no name.
Only a location and a number printed in sharp silver lettering.
The man nodded once—formal, final—and stepped back into place.
I stood there, confused, my mind struggling to catch up. My lips parted slightly, but no words came out. What was I supposed to say? What was expected of me?
Izar turned away.
Just like that.
As if the moment was already over.
He took a step—then paused.
His head tilted slightly, and he glanced over his shoulder.
When he spoke, his voice was deep. Calm. Commanding.
It didn’t echo loudly—but it didn’t need to.
It cut through the hospital like a blade.
“Be there, tomorrow” he said.
That was all.
Then he walked away.
The doors slid open. The shadows followed him. And when he was gone—
The hospital breathed again.
Voices returned in cautious murmurs. Machines beeped. Feet moved. Life rushed back into the building as if it had been revived from death itself.
I finally exhaled.
Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath the entire time.
My legs felt weak.
I stared down at the black card in my hand, my pulse still racing.
Tomorrow.
The word echoed in my mind.
Tomorrow, my life would no longer be my own.
- Writer
