Chapter Three: The Brother In The Bunker
By morning, Damian’s fever broke.
Elena sat beside him with one hand on his chart and the other around cold coffee.
He woke slowly.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Cruel.”
“You were poisoned.”
“I noticed.”
“You need proper toxicology.”
“I have equipment.”
“You have a private ICU in your mansion.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I am impressed and disgusted.”
He tried to sit.
Pain folded him in half.
Elena pushed him back with one hand.
“Down.”
His eyes dropped to her palm against his chest.
So did hers.
She pulled away.
“Who wants you dead?”
“A long list.”
“Shorten it.”
“My uncle Sergei. Anton, perhaps. Varga remnants. Men who smile at my table.”
“Helpful.”
His mouth curved faintly.
A crash sounded below.
Then a shout.
Luka entered fast.
“The basement.”
Damian’s face changed.
He tried to stand.
Elena blocked him.
“No.”
“My brother.”
That word changed the room.
Elena followed them down because a doctor followed bleeding.
The basement was not a basement.
It was a bunker.
Steel doors. Medical bay. Emergency power. Too many secrets.
Behind glass, a young man lay strapped to a bed.
Bruised.
Burned at the wrists.
Breathing through pain.
“Nikolai Volkov,” Irina said.
Damian’s younger brother.
The reckless heir.
The public disaster.
The private weakness.
Elena moved to the bed.
“What happened?”
“He was taken ten days ago,” Irina said.
“By whom?”
No answer.
Nikolai’s eyes opened.
Pale gray, like Damian’s.
“Elena,” he whispered.
She froze.
“How do you know me?”
His breath hitched.
“Saint Agnes.”
The words struck the room.
Damian went still behind her.
Nikolai’s lips moved again.
“They lied.”
Elena leaned closer.
“Who lied?”
He tried to answer.
His body seized.
Elena turned surgeon.
Medication.
Airway.
Pressure.
Orders.
Irina obeyed without hesitation. Luka held the line. Damian stood silent near the glass, unable to help, unable to leave.
After three brutal minutes, Nikolai stabilized.
Elena removed her gloves.
Her hands were clean.
Her past was not.
She turned to Damian.
“What happened at Saint Agnes?”
His face had no defense left.
Only damage.
“Elena.”
“No.”
Her voice shook once, then steadied.
“You tell me now.”
He looked at Nikolai.
Then at her.
“When you are ready to hate me correctly,” he said, “I will.”
