The prisoner’s Revenge

Chapter Four

The lady in the mirror.

Dahlia's POV

Pain woke me up. Not sharp, not sudden—just present everywhere, deep in my bones, spreading fire across my chest. My eyelids fluttered,but either they didn’t open or this room was dark. Groaning, I tried again, this time only to realize something soft was placed firmly over my eyes. Bandages.

“Wh… where…?” My throat felt sandpaper-scraped, and words could barely squeeze out.

Footsteps rushed close, the chair next to me screeched, and a familiar voice pierced through the fog.

“Lia? Hey—hey, you’re awake.”

Nyx.

Great relief flooded through me. I wanted to reach for her, but my arms wouldn’t move. “What… happened?” My lips cracked as the words slurred.

She sighed, squeezing my hand. “We found you at the graveyard, D. You were a mess. Broken bones, ribs cracked…the bullet lodged in your chest.”

The fog tore at those words. My heart stopped. “A…a bullet?” Panic started to claw up my insides with shallow and fast breaths. “No, no, no—”

“Shhhh,” Nyx shouted, leaning over and brushing my hair from my damp forehead. “You are safe now. Don’t work yourself into a frenzy. Just breathe.”

I tried, but with each inhale, my chest hollered. The door swung wide open, hurried footsteps echoed in the hollowness, and a set of cool hands grazed my arms. Whispering—the nurses? Something sharp pricked at the soft spot in the crook of my arm, and my body went heavy like lead while my mind held on to Nyx for dear life.

“Tell me…” The tremor in my voice turned to brokenness. “Tell me what happened.”

Long exhale from Nyx. “You wanted to go alone, remember? To your son’s grave. I gave you space, but when you didn’t come back, I got out. I found you on the ground. Unconscious, bones broken, blood everywhere… and a hole in your chest.”

“Wha-what? They’re were two men, very big.” But the words sounded hollow in my ears.

“No one was there, D,” she whispered. “No footprints, no sound, nothing. Whoever did it… they’re not just a killer. They’re an expert. They cut you open, took the bullet out before anyone else could. Like they knew what they were doing.”

The door creaked again, with heaviness in the frame, steps clipped and formal. A man’s voice. “She’s conscious?”

“Yes,” Nyx answered.

Fingers touched my wrist, my neck, checking. A smooth, calm tone followed. The doctor. “It’s a miracle you’re alive, Mrs Graves. Whoever shot you aimed for your heart. But you’re… one of the rare few whose heart sits on the right side instead of the left. If not, you’d be dead.”

A lump formed in my throat. So close. Too close.

A heavier, colder voice—the police. “Ma’am, we’ll need your statement. But your friend here”—I heard the slight scraping sound of Nyx’s chair—“refused to speak for you. She only asked we provide protection, no charges filed. Without your consent, our hands are tied.”

“Wasn’t ready,” Nyx’s voice sliced.

Not bothering with her, he pressed on. “If you want to file, let me forewarn you—the odds are slim. Gloves, no trace, and the security cameras at the graveyard went missing from the records. And without the bullet? Not even close.”

I swallowed hard. Every nerve screamed for justice. What worth, however is justice, when it draws a target back onto me? And by the way, I knew who sent those men after me.

Seraphina.

“No charges,” I rasped, after some time.

The officer was quiet for some time , seemingly shocked. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. But do not hesitate to report any further details to us, we are always ready to help.” His footsteps faded away, and the door closed.

Under her breath Nyx muttered, “Assholes.” Then her hand slid back into mine. “D, you can’t stay here. Hospitals aren’t safe. If they tried once, they’ll try again. I’ll take you home.”

“Yes.” My voice cracked. “Anywhere but here.”

“But first,” she lowered her voice, careful now. “There’s something you need to do.”

I frowned beneath the bandages. “What?”

“Open your eyes.”

“I can’t,” I whispered. It felt like my eyelids were glued shut, and if they weren’t, my lashes were so heavy I couldn’t open them. And even if I could… I was terrified.

“You can,” Nyx insisted.

The door clicked open. I felt the air shift as someone else came in. The doctor again. Scissors scraping against metal. Too close to my face. My heart raced.

“Stay still,” the doctor said gently.

Snip. Another snip. The weight around my eyes was loosening. Thin strips of linen brushed against my cheeks as they fell. My lashes fluttered, blinking into the bright white light, until, finally—finally—I saw.

A mirror hung in front of me.

But the woman staring back was not me.

My mouth went dry. The cheekbones, the jawline, the mouth—different. Not Dahlia Graves. Not the face known in the world.

“What… what’s happening?” My voice broke. “Why…who ? What’s happening? Who is the lady in the mirror? Where is my face? What is happening Nyx? Who is this lady? What face is this? Why do I look different? Nyx … why are you quiet! Say something…”

Nyx leaned in, unreadable in expression, but her eyes held a weight of something like sorrow.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I had to.” She swallowed hard, pressing her hand against mine. “It’s been three months.”

Dahlia's POV

The mirror fell from my hands that shook and hit the bed near me. Yet, I kept staring: a new face stared back from it.

Big, strange eyes: high cheekbones, lips that looked not like my own, as if they belonged to another, not to me.

A stranger was breathing in my place.

"No..." My voice cracked. "No, no, no-this isn't me." My hands were shaking and scratching through the remnants of the bandages, still clinging to the sides of my face. Nails scraping skin which was too smooth and too foreign to be mine, "What did you do? What the hell did you do to me?"

Nyx flinched, but she did not back away. She leaned in; both arms held up in surrender, like she was afraid that any jerk would freeze me some more-and then she says, "Dahlia, listen to me-"

"Answer me!" And my howl you could actually rattle down the sterile chamber-rope burr in my throat. "Whose face am I bearing? Where's mine?"

Her throat bobbed, and for the first time since I had known her, Nyx looked terrified-not of me, but of the truth. "That graveyard incident? It wasn't yesterday, D. It was three months ago."

It felt like someone had sucker punched me in the gut. My breath seemed to become stuck. "Three...months?"

Nyx nodded. "When I found you, you weren't just unconscious; you were dying. Bones shattered, chest torn open, and your face..." She bit her lip until it turned white. "Your face was battered beyond healing. The doctors said the tissue was...rotting."

It was like that bullet lodged itself in there again. "Rotting?" That word felt poisonous on my tongue; vile and unreal.

Nyx swallowed. "I had no option. They couldn't save it. If I hadn't signed for reconstructive surgery, you wouldn't even have had a face to wake up to."

My stomach twisted, anger surged hot and sharp against crawling up my throat like acid. "You had no right!" I spit, raw-voiced with rage. "It was my face. My decision. Not yours!"

Nyx's eyes were bright with tears, yet she still looked at me, not willing to let go of her agony. "I know. I know, and I'm sorry. But I couldn't watch you die like that. I thought—"

"You thought?" I laughed-a sharp, hollow sound that would've sounded too bitter to belong to me. "You thought you could play God with my life? Do you even hear yourself?! You gave them the right to take away the only thing I have left? Why Nyx? Did you think about how I would feel?”

Her shoulders sagged, pressing her palms into her knees, head down, shame drawn into every line of her. "I'm sorry, D. Really sorry. But you weren't healing. The infection was spreading. It was either this… or a coffin."

I wanted to tear that needle out of my vein and take my fist to the walls and scrape this stranger's face off of my own until my blood began to seep through. My fists balled so tightly, the needle tugged at my skin. Rage and grief crashed in relentless waves, suffocating me.

I moved my head briskly, refusing to look at her, because if I did, if there was even a flicker of guilt or pity, I would shatter completely.

The room was swallowed by silence. Just the steady beep of the heart monitor filled that absence. It mocked me with its calmness while the rest of my world lay gutted and bleeding.

Minutes bled into an eternity before my voice, hoarse and broken, cut through. "Why, Nyx? Why would anyone do this to me? Leave me in the dirt, broken, faceless?"

Nyx lifted her head up slow, and for the first time that night, her face got hard. "Because the one who sent your attacker wanted you gone for good. Harming your face was no mistake—it was on purpose. They wanted Dahlia Graves wiped out."

Her words fell hard—harder than the true words about my face. Wiped out. They wanted me gone, like I was nothing ever here.

My blood ran cold. My lips split, and the name came out with a bite. "Seraphina."

Nyx blinke. "You're sure?"

"Who else?" My nails dug into the blanket until the fabric tore. "She wants me out of the picture, out of Adrian's life, out of my son's memory. She always hated me-and now she's trying to finish me. She fears I will go after her, or Adrian. She is scared of what I may do to her, she sent people to have me taken out of the picture, completely. The graveyard was perfect, I am sure she must have given the police the paper to give to me. That way she is sure she knows where to find me and take me out of the picture. I am a bit disappointed but not so suprised.”

Nyx's jaw clenched, her silence agreement enough. She didn't argue since she didn't have to. We both knew.

I stared up at the ceiling. Grief ate at me, rage pulsed through me, a bitter taste rose in my throat but I refused to let none of that control me.

Finally,I spoke again. "Nyx."

Her head snapped up immediately. "Yeah?"

My voice was low but audible. "Can a new identity be created for me? And my death-Dahlia Graves' death-faked?"

Her brows knitted in a frown. Confusion, suspicion, and a flicker of fear in her eyes. "It's hard," she admitted slowly. "Very hard. But not impossible. Why?"

I straightened as much as my sore body allowed.

"My life was stolen," I said, venomous lacing each word. "My son. My love. My face. Even my name. They took everything from me, Nyx. As if that was not enough, they sent people after me.. to kill me, to end my life and what was my offense? Loving and trusting the wrong people.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came.

"My old life is dead anyway," I continued. "Let them bury Dahlia Graves. Let them think they've erased me."

"But- why?" She asked.

"Revenge."