All That Was Forgotten

Prologue II: 3 Years Ago...

The morning light bled through the curtains, too bright for me to ignore.

Even with my eyes shut, I winced at its glare before turning, and burying my face against the warm body beside me. His chest rose, then fell beneath my cheek, solid and steady. His musky scent, with that faint hint of salt from the sea, the traces of my perfume, pulled me deeper into his warm embrace.

I tried drfiting back to sleep, but something inside me just refused to comply. A weird feeling pressed into my chest. Bad. Coiling low in my stomach like a warning, until I couldn't ignore it anymore. Something was wrong.

With a sigh, I opened my eyes. Hoping to hell that it was just something mundane. Maybe we forgot to turn off the lights in the living room, or maybe we forgot to close the window and some bird managed to fly inside. It happened more times than we could count. But that was back at our old apartment.

Alex was still asleep. His long lashes brushing his skin. The faintest shadow already darkened his jaw, even though he had just shaved it clean, during the morning of our wedding yesterday. God, I can't believe I have a husband now. My husband. I could feel my heart softening instantly.

I traced the line of his jaw with my fingers, smiling when he murmured something intangible in his sleep and shifted closer. His arm tightened around my waist, his face buried in the crook of my neck. The warmth between us was almost enough to drown out the unease. Almost.

Our first morning as husband and wife, and yet, my body couldn't stop whispering to me that something wasn't right. My instincts were never wrong. So that prompted me to gently untangle my body from him, and push myself up to my elbows, straining my ear for any sort of noise. Only to be met by complete, utter silence. Except for the sound fo the waves, distantly crashing over the coast just beyond our windows.

Was it the baby? Am I having morning sickness already? That must be it, right?

No. The ache in my chest only grew sharper, like my body knew something my heart refused to believe. No, there's no way they would've found me already. I've taken extra precautions. They should've thought I was dead. They held a funeral and everything.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady the pulse hammering in my throat. Carefully, I slid the duvet away. The chill from the air conditioner wrapped around my bare skin like a warning.

There was no way Grandpa kept looking, if he thought I was dead.

The thought came univited, sharp as glass. Ridiculous. No one could possibly know where I am. Not when I've been hiding for the past year, undetected. I was careful. Thorough.

Still, the unease lingered, low and stubborn.

I pulled my robe off the hook by the door. The fabric whispering against my skin as I tied the sash snug around my waist. It's just anxiety. It should just be anxiety. Morning jitters. Hormones, that's all. There was nothing to worry about.

The floor was cool beneath my feet, as I stepped into the hallway. The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet, except for the distant hum of the ocean outside. It would've soothed my nerves, but this time, I was too agitated.

Just when I was about to reach the living room, a faint sound pricked through the stillness.

A soft thud.

Followed by the slow sweep of a shadow, crossing the sheer curtains.

I froze.

For a heartbeat, I told myself that it was just a seagull, passing by. Though it was ridiculous. The movement of it was too heavy, the shadow too big for it to pass of as a bird.

I could feel my body tightened. Years of training had made me more hyper-aware of things. Helped me sense danger before it actually truly revealed itself. And this time was no different. Every nerves of mine were on edge.

The sound came again. A soft metallic click from the back door. I sprinted towards the kitchen, grabbing one of the knives, sticking out of the counter.

I turned, barely breathing, every muscle coiled as I pressed my back on one of the walls between the kitchen and the living room. The door clicked closed, but not quiet. The latch hadn't caught, like the intruder had purposely left it open.

The air seemed to shift. The hum of the fridge dimmed beneath the sound of my pulse.

"Alex?" the intruder called out, his voice familiar. Josh. Alex's best friend and business partner. "Dude, you awake?"

I shut my eyes, as tears poured down my cheeks, my free hand clutching onto my mouth to muffle my voice. No, out of everyone, why did it have to be Josh? No, maybe, he came to the villa because there was a work emergency. Yes.

Then two more voices joined him. Muffled. I couldn't hear what they were saying, or the language that they were speaking in. But they sounded rough. Russian.

My eyes widened the moment I heard them rush in.

I spu around, reaching for the nearest thing with my free hand. A ceramic rug. I hurled it at the first shadow. It shattered against his shoulder, but he barely flinched. Highly-trained. f**k.

"Alex!" I screamed. My voice cracked, echoing through the open-plan room. "Alex! Help, Alex!"

One grabbed my wrist, twisting hard, but I managed to pull it back. Then I swung, cutting his jaw with a s***h. Blood dripped to the ground as he staggered back and I kicked, causing him to stumble back against the counter and fell.

The second man was already behind me, slamming me against the other side of the counter, by the stove. My front hit the edge so hard I saw stars. My hand flew to my abdomen, warmth seeping through my fingers. No.

My baby.

Rage flooded through me, sharp and blinding. I twisted, ignoring the pain and my broken heart, as we fought. I managed to grip the man's arm. Blinded with rage, I drove my elbow hard, into his ribs. Again and again, until I felt his friend coming up behind me.

I shoved him away, his head hitting the sharp edges of the stove before the first one lunged at me again. I managed to duck under his arm, grabbed my knife that had fallen to the counter and slashed upward.

He caught my wrist mid-swing, but I didn't stop fighting. I clawed at his face with my free hand, my nails digging until his fabric tore loose, and I froze.

The face beneath didn't belong to a stranger. It was Josh. Alex's best friend and business partner. His best man at our wedding.

"Why did you do this?" I breathed, disbelief cutting through the chaos. Blood poured out of my abdomen, from between my legs, but I didn't care. I couldn't. Not right now. The pain was too great.

His eyes widened for a second, before something dark flickered there. Before I know it, he slammed his forehead into me, and just like that, the world went black. My knees buckled, my knife clattering to the floor.

"Grab her!" he commanded through the ringing in my ears. "Boss wants her alive."

Oh, so he was working for someone.

"How could you do this?" I whimpered through the pain, lying in my own pool of blood. "He's your best friend—"

The first man pulled something from his pocket. Cold metal glinted. A gun.

Panic clawed up my throat, as I forced myself to shove off the floor, trying to duck under his arm. But the other caught my hair and yanked me backward. My head hit the edge of the counter with a sickening crack.

Pain exploded across my scalp. And the world tilted. The light from the window smearing with gold and red.

The last thing I saw before everything went to black was Alex's sillhouette through the bedroom window. Asleep. Untouched by the chaos. I could only hope that he'd survive this life without me.