Sixty-Five

DIMITRI

In the cold, dark, dank room, Valeria's face seemed to float in front of me. Even when I closed my eyes, it was all I could see. I had a strong feeling that it was what was going to haunt my dreams now for some time to come.

During the drive here, I had kept telling myself that she was okay. She was on the mend, at least. The doctor had assured me of that. She was fine, he had said, and our baby was fine too.

But all the assurances in the world could not get rid of the image of her pale, bruised and bloodied face. Her nose was still swollen and as red as a tomato. She had a nasty cut above her eyebrows, lots of scrapes on her hands and legs. Not to mention...

"A damned concussion," I muttered under my breath, ignoring a slight sound from the man on my right, which the sound of my voice of my voice had occasioned.

The thought that Valeria had still been attacked despite my best efforts at keeping her safe drove me up the wall. She had suffered so damn much, and for what? Just b