In His Ruins

CHAPTER ONE POV — ARIEL The weather has been too calm all day, the kind of calm that makes your skin crawl. I sit in my room, organizing the documents for a job interview because I can't afford to make mistakes. I need this job at all costs. My phone vibrates, as an unknown number flashes across the screen. Thinking it might be the company calling again, I hesitate before answering. "Are you Ariel?" The voice came deep and unnaturally calm. "Yes. Who is this?" "Go to the hospital, now. Otherwise, you might lose him before he gets better." My heart skips. "Wait! Who are you talking about?" The call disconnects before I can ask anything else. I stare at my phone, confusion twisting in my stomach. It could be a prank or a wrong number, but the caller's words refuse to leave my mind. Dad is the only person I know who's currently in the hospital, and losing him isn't an option. But why would a stranger say something like that? I grab my bag and leave immediately, sitting through traffic as blaring horns and impatient drivers make the journey even more frustrating. My hands tighten around the site belt across my chest while the caller's words replay in my head. What if something has happened to Dad? By the time I reach the hospital, my phone is buzzing with missed calls from the company, but my interview time barely crosses my mind. Dad comes first. After taking a deep breath, I enter the hospital and head to the reception, where a nurse explains that I cannot see my father without a visiting card. Despite my pleas, she refuses to let me through, so I settle into a chair and wait. Every passing minute tests my patience. Dad was admitted two years ago after collapsing at work, and the diagnosis was dementia, a condition that affects memory and other cognitive abilities. As a medical student, I should have noticed that something was wrong, but I didn't, and the guilt still weighs heavily on me. Since then, my paycheck has practically belonged to the hospital before it even reaches my account, while the college fund I'd spent years building has disappeared into medical expenses. There's no mother to help us because she left years ago and never returned. Honestly, I pray she stays away. Dad doesn't even remember my name half the time, yet I visit him every week because what kind of daughter would abandon her father when he needs her most? I tilt my head back against the chair, trying to look composed even though I'm barely holding myself together. I just realized that I had left home without telling Kaesia. A best friend that has become a family. Finally, a nurse approaches and calls my name. I rise so quickly that my chair scrapes against the floor before following her to the doctor's office. "How is my dad?" I ask as soon as we enter. "He's stable," the doctor replies, studying my face. "But are you all right, Ariel? You look worried." I force myself to breathe slowly. "I'm fine. Has there been any progress with his condition?" He nods, and his next words make me straighten in my seat. "Good news, Ariel. He's been improving quite well, and if everything continues this way, he should be discharged soon." "Really? But you didn't tell me about this his condition. " "Yes. I know, his condition changes as long we keep giving him adequate treatment which we've provided to him. You can come back next week to take him home, and you may see him now." Relief washes over me so quickly that my knees almost weaken. Dad might finally come home, but the stranger's warning returns to haunt me. You might lose him before he gets better. If Dad is doing well, why did someone call to make me fear the worst, and how did they know about him? I push the questions aside and head to the ward because I need to see Dad for myself. The room smells of antiseptic and old food, while machines beep steadily around me. Dad lies in bed 4B, looking no thinner than he did last week, although his hands remain pale. I pull a chair beside his bed and gently take his hand. "Hey, Dad. It's me, Ariel." He doesn't answer, and his eyes remain fixed on my face as though he's trying to remember something important. I've seen that look too many times. "The doctor says you might come home next week," I whisper, hoping he'll understand. For a moment, nothing happens, but then his fingers twitch against mine. I freeze as he places his other hand over mine, his watery eyes almost pleading. My throat tightens because he hasn't responded to me like this in months. I blink rapidly to hold back my tears. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll take you home soon." I stay beside him until a nurse reminds me that visiting time is over, and although I reluctantly release his hand, I promise myself to return next week. On my way out, another nurse stops me and explains that the receptionist is unavailable, so I must wait while she retrieves a document for the visiting record. I agree and settle into a chair, only to realize that my interview is already over. I let out a tired sigh. Another job lost. As I rub my forehead, I wonder whether I should call the company and explain what happened, but who would believe that an unknown caller sent me rushing to the hospital? Probably no one. I drop my phone into my bag and lean back, only to notice a man standing a short distance away. His black sleeve is rolled up, revealing an intricate tattoo covering part of his left arm, while his grey eyes remain fixed on mine. I look away, hoping he'll get the message, but something about his intense stare unsettles me. He's undeniably handsome, with a sharp jaw and a physique that draws attention, yet my instincts warn me that he's dangerous. When I glance at my phone and look up again, he's gone. Strange things have been happening all day. Am I sick? I touch my four head to feel my body temperature. I turn toward reception, but the nurse still hasn't returned, and I'm beginning to lose patience. Just when I think my day can't get any worse, I feel someone watching me. A woman stands a few steps away, staring at me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Two tall, broad-shouldered men stand behind her, their expressions unreadable, and my stomach drops as they approach. The woman wears a fitted red dress and carries a black bag, but I barely notice those details because every instinct in my body screams at me to run. I push myself to my feet and head for the exit, only to stop when I hear a click. A gun is aimed at my head. "Stop right there, Miss Ariel." My blood turns cold. She knows my name, bu Slowly, I turn around, staring at the weapon before meeting her eyes. "Who are you?" I ask, my voice trembling. "My identity isn't something you need to know." She smiles faintly. "You won't live long enough to remember it anyway." My heart pounds against my ribs. "What do you want from me?" She steps closer and studies my face as though searching for something familiar, then her expression changes. "You look so much like her," she murmurs. "No wonder he hid you so well." My breath catches. Who is she talking about, and who has been hiding me? "But you can't hide anymore." She gestures to the men, who seize me before I can react. I scream and struggle, but they throw me to the floor, and the woman crouches beside me to slap me across the face. Pain burns through my cheek as I try to crawl away, but the men block my escape. Then a loud thud cuts through my panic, followed by another as the men hit the floor. The sudden silence makes me look up. It's the tattooed man from the waiting area. He stands over the fallen men, his expression colder than before, and his presence seems to fill the entire room. Even the woman lowers her gun slightly as he approaches. For a moment, I can only stare. He reaches down, closes his hand around my arm, and pulls me to my feet. I flinch. "Please..." He ignores my trembling voice and looks toward the men struggling to rise. "Touch her again, and you die." His voice is low and deadly. Then he turns to me, and I search his face for an explanation or some sign that he's here to help. I find nothing. Instead, his grip tightens around my arm as he delivers the words that turn my blood to ice. "You're mine now." The room tilts, my knees weaken, and the last thing I see is his cold grey stare before everything goes black.