Elena

Humans are strange creatures. When we have a happy life, we look at others with pity, we feel that desire to help, but in most cases everything remains just words in our mind and hollow feelings that never see the light of day. Somehow we manage to forget them the moment we avert our eyes and move on with our lives, forgetting this tiny, brief episode as if it never happened.

But when our own lives are worthy of pity, we humans hope for two options. In the first, someone comes and saves us, if we are lucky, which usually leads to the moments when we realize that what we do to ourselves, God cannot do to us. And the second one? It is painful, draining you physically and mentally. The second option is never pleasant, never something you wish on a friend, sometimes you hope your enemy doesn't experience it either.

When your life turns from a fairy tale, boring and impersonal, but a fairy tale in which you lived under a safe wing, you were protected and although depressing, you always knew what was next, what your tomorrow would be, what emotions to expect, what you will think, in an absolute bloody mess of happiness, love, new life, deadly uncertainty, persecution, a golden cage where you don't mind folding your wings and delaying your flight, because you have something to live for, something to protect, you do anything to try to escape from the feeling of grief, from regretting the losses, relying on your pride and the strength you get from loved ones.

I indulged in trifles to forget the horror we were experiencing. I give in to little things, like my huge belly that slowed me down, making me wobble like a penguin, my inability to fit my perky breasts into any bra, the tiny stretch marks that I couldn't get rid of despite all the creams and massages, the freckles on my face, unnatural to my otherwise clear skin, the swelling in my feet and ankles, the inability to get into a normal sleeping position for more than an hour before waking up and having to find another one, or the lower back pain and my shoulders. How come I didn't have any clothes left in which I could dress up and not look like a failed attempt at packing a whale.

I spent hours in front of the mirror bemoaning imperfections that I adored, caused by my already heavy pregnancy, not to think how many times Victor had already been hit by bullets, sometimes narrowly escaping, how many scars remained on his built body, which the fool took as prizes, that he knows how to protect our little family. Or I would lie curled up in the empty huge bed, crying my eyes out, talking softly to our baby so I wouldn't have to think about where his father was in the wee hours of the night and if he would ever come home.

Every day, every hour and every second of every minute, I deluded myself that I wasn't worried, I convinced myself that I knew how strong Victor was, that I believed he could handle anything, as long as he put his mind to it, because my husband is more stubborn than a donkey on a bridge and when he decides something, he breaks all physical laws to achieve it. I delude myself that I'm not afraid that when I go into labor in two or three weeks, I won't be alone in the delivery room, or that I'm not afraid of the possibility that Victor will never see our baby, and that our son will only know his father from photos and my stories.

I'm deluding myself, looking into my own eyes, trying to lie to myself and the world, my husband and our friends, that I'm strong enough to take it all, that I can handle whatever life throws at us, and that no matter what's happening, I couldn't be happier. I'm happy too, of course, our baby is almost ready to be born, despite the wounds, all the attacks and the organized night raids, Victor, Damien and the others are alive and always coming home, I'm really happy.

I just don't know how much longer I can sustain this happy feeling when I feel a scared voice in the back of my mind keep sneaking its way forward and keep whispering to me that no matter how much I lie to myself, the truth is that no happiness, no illusions can hide the fact that I'm dying of anxiety and nerves, of fear and of the thought that with every passing day, in which I try to be stronger and worthy to stand by Victor, to be worthy of our son ,in the end I will fail miserably and lose everything.

"Elena?" the anxiety in Victor's voice snapped me out of my reverie and I turned away from the huge mirror, looking over my shoulder. "Elena, what's up, are you okay?" With three huge strides, Victor seemed to teleport to me and turned me around, looking me over from head to toe. "I...yeah, why?" I looked down, I was in the bathroom only a moment ago and now I was standing in my underwear, trying to fasten one of Victor's shirts over my huge belly, with an elastic gusset in my other hand, adjusted with an extra piece of elastic to accommodate my bum.

"I called you several times my love, I freaked out when you didn't answer" his eyes skimmed over me again before his gaze relaxed. "I was thinking and forgot what I was doing, sorry" I smiled and Victor tilted his head. "You've been acting out a lot lately my love, is there something you want to tell me?" he removed my fingers from the buttons, buttoned just above my stomach, knelt in front of me and unbuttoned the shirt, embracing my bum, Victor lifted it gently, taking some of the weight off me and kissed my belly button.

"Nothing you don't already know" I giggled and jabbed a finger into my belly, causing a violent reaction from our son. "He's a strong baby and he's getting more and more active, isn't he?" the pride shining in Victor's eyes made my heart sink, bringing back the image my mind had been painting a while ago, me, alone, with a baby in my arms and standing in the middle of the room, telling our son stories about how wonderful his father was, how much he loved him, so much that he gave his life for him.

"He looks like his father" I sighed and Victor's gaze shot up. "Okay" he stood up, took my hands and dragged me to the small bench in the middle of the dressing room, sitting down and placing me on his lap. "I'm pretending not to notice that your mind has been flying and you seem sad lately, but it has to stop, Elena" he supported me with a hand on my back and the other on my stomach and I looked down, absorbing the gesture with a desperate need to got strength from the feeling of security that I felt at the moment. "Tell me, my love, don't hold me back because it's killing me" I looked at him and my heart pounded like a hammer drill.

His face was one of gentle concern, those gray eyes that could make my gut twist into an unbreakable knot of emotions now looked at me worriedly and his forehead was cut by a large wrinkle. "I'm fine, really" I stroked the wrinkle, hoping to smooth it out, but instead, it only deepened. Victor took my hand and placed it on his cheek, resting on my palm with his eyes closing briefly before looking at me again. "We promised each other no secrets, Elena, no lies" he reminded me softly and the heat that spread from my core to every cell of my body made me want to be closer to him, to try to melt in it, to stay like that forever.

"Elena" Victor sighed and lifted my face. "Something's bothering you my love, I wish I could read minds but I can't, so you have to tell me, okay?" this time I just tried to smile at him, but my failure was spectacular and stuck like a lump of bitter bile in my throat. How do I tell the man I love more than anything that I don't doubt him or his strength, his ability to protect us, but I'm afraid that it doesn't matter how hard we both try, when everything depends on fate, chance and probably just one wrong step, because of which we can lose everything we have, our love, our family, our future.

Again, I looked down at my belly, his hand lying there again, as it always did when we were close together, as if Victor was trying, by touch, to make sure that I was indeed pregnant, or just by feeling the baby's movements, to be sure that we are well and safe. "Look at it,Victor" I once again rested my will on what had been fooling me the best for the past weeks. Safe topic. He adjusted himself slightly, his head sank under my chin and his cheek rested on my chest. "I know, it's incredible that there's life in here" I felt him smile, his fingers moved in soft circles around his navel, pressing lightly here and there, as if Victor was challenging our son to answer him.

"Sometimes I look at you and I can't help but think that now, with your pregnant belly, you are much more beautiful than when I first met you" my eyebrows jumped and I smiled slightly. Victor had this power, like magic, that always managed to make me smile. "More beautiful? Victor, I'm huge, my ankles are swollen and I can only wear my house slippers, I'm wearing your clothes because I don't get into mine, how, for God's sake, it makes me more beautiful than in the day, in who we met?" I laughed and he shrugged, continuing to stroke my belly.

"I know you think so, my love" he lifted his head and rested his chin on my shoulder, looking at me with a dreamy liquid greyness. "I see how you sometimes stand in front of the mirror, turn to one side or the other, try to swallow your belly and pout" my face got hot because he caught me in such private moments and my cheeks burned. "It's a shame you women don't realize how beautiful you become when you get pregnant. Not just for your husbands, but for all men" he smiled slightly and straightened his back, turning me so that my legs hung off the bench behind him and my stomach has become a serious ball barrier between us.

"To watch you blossom, as your bellies grow with our seed, as that seed becomes something incredible. Women, you have a unique power, my love, something we men can never do, no matter how much money we have, how much power,how strong we are,carrying life,bringing it into this world is stunning and makes you goddesses in our eyes.It hurts me when you think you are huge or not beautiful enough when you point out something as insignificant as stretch marks and spots that will disappear when you give birth, because you underestimate yourself, Elena, you underestimate what you do, and this is wrong. I can't wait for our son to be born, so that I can make him a brother or sister, and watch you getting round with our baby" tears ran down my cheeks and Victor smiled, cupping my face to soak them up with his lips.

"I love you, Victor" I whimpered and hugged him as hard as I could. "I love you more, my love, I love you both with everything I've got. I know you're scared, Elena, just as I know pregnancy isn't the reason your mind wanders off sometimes, but it's okay, love, because even if you don't admit that you're afraid, I know" I couldn't hold back any longer. Every word of his was a blade that stuck to a completely different depth, and every stab only deepened the love I feel for him.

"How about a little nap? And you can use me as a pillow?" I laughed through my tears and Victor picked me up, being careful not to put too much pressure on my stomach as he carried me to the bedroom. He carefully placed me on the bed and waited for me to make room for him, then when I settled next to him, using his curves to get comfortable, wrapped his arms around me.

"It's going to be alright my love, you just have to put up with it a little longer, don't you?" I nodded and rubbed my cheek against his chest, inhaling his scent. I should have learned by now that I can't hide anything from Victor, after almost a year of marriage, he read me like an open book, printed in huge letters, and no matter how hard I tried to hide my thoughts, he always found a way to calm them down ,using the roundabout way in which I myself told him my fears.

Victor

"What are these?" Damien pressed himself against the wall next to me and examined the hilt-like grenades in my hand. I handed him one and grinned. "Developed by Craven Groups for my personal use. Contains sleeping gas" his eyebrows shot up and he snorted. "Marcus?" we both stood up and I showed him how it worked while I waited for an answer. "We're in position, boss, we're waiting for a signal" answered Marcus and I told him to count to ten, then throw the gas in the yard and jump over the walls.

"Don't forget the masks!" I gave an order over the radio and looked at Damien's mask as we both took a few steps back from the wall as soon as we hit the gas on the other side we powered up and jumped off the ground to climb and jump over the not very high wall.

"Wait, something's wrong!" just as our feet touched the ground and I readied myself to attack, Damien's hand stuck to my chest and I looked at him in confusion. "Everyone, do not attack until we give you the order!" he roared over the radio and I looked around, trying to see through the gas what he saw. The gas was made to hit you hard, paralyzing your nervous system and putting you to sleep in less than five seconds, then dissipate almost instantly.

My gaze traveled over the billowing gas and my brows sank. According to our information, this was one of the estates of Leonardo Marcelli, a high ranking Cosa Nostra. According to reports, there were supposed to be at least fifty guards patrolling the yard with dogs, all armed to the teeth, an automatic rifle security system, and twenty more guards in the house that we had to take down using the same gas. What was wrong, and I just realized, was that the yard was empty.

"Group one, scout the yard, shoot meat" Damien ordered his men and signaled me to move forward very slowly. "Marcus, secure the flanks, we're not taking hostages!" I ordered and motioned to Damien to go through a side greenhouse that should be connected to the back entrance of the house according to the satellite sketches we stole. "I have a bad feeling about this, man" Damien grunted and I cracked my neck as we both moved as fast as we could in a crouch.

Empty! There was no sign of a person either in the yard or in the house, and now we were all huddled together in a huge vestibule, looking at the wide open doors and windows of the deserted house. "Shit!" Damien removed the mask and looked at me. "Not a soul, boss" Collins, Damien's right hand man and Marcus walked us closer. "Look around the house, I don't want a missed shadow, they can't just evaporate!" Damien ordered and I nodded for Marcus to follow the order.

"This place should be full of guards" Damien snorted and rubbed his neck. "You think we have a traitor?" I spoke my thoughts out loud and he nodded. "And it's not the first time. The attack on you on the way back from examining Elena, the attack on my people, the attempted kidnapping of Ophelia, the infiltration of Craven's Groups, I don't think it's all a coincidence" I took a deep breath, tapped him on the shoulder and I surveyed the movement of our men, while I myself went to the foot of the double staircase to join in the search.

The last two weeks turned out to be a peak. Everything Damien mentioned happened within two to three days of each other. Elena's last examination ended with an attack in the hospital parking lot, fortunately, this time I was prepared not only with security, but also with a decoy. Someone had tried to break into the Craven Groups security system, failed again after failing to break through the last three walls of our computer defenses, so they tried to attack the company with fire, all the guards were injured and two were killed before the cops come. According to the report, an attempt to steal plans for new Craven Group military developments related to our contract with the military.

The last one was about 36 hours ago. Someone had broken into Ophelia's home. Everything was gutted, the doorman had his throat cut, and the only reason for failure was that Ophelia was not feeling well and Damien had insisted that she spend a few days with him. "Victor!" I had just reached the second room upstairs when Damien's voice sounded in my ear. "Down in the kitchen, now!" basically, I would have bitten him for the commanding tone, not easy when we are both used to being in command, but the way he said it gave me chills and I ran down the stairs.

They were all gathered in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen and parted like the Red Sea before Moses when I arrived. I don't like such looks, as if everyone, except me, knew that something was happening and I wouldn't like it. A weight rested on my chest as I walked among our people. "It's for you" Damien was waiting for me at the end and handed me a folded sheet of paper with my name on the top. I took the paper and followed his gaze as he stepped aside.

There was a laptop open on the kitchen island and I looked at the note in my hands, then at Damien who shrugged. I took a breath and opened the page, staring at the 'Play me' written in hard handwriting. The weight got heavier and I took another step, turning on the laptop, praying that I hadn't just signed the death warrant for our people.

When I turned on the monitor, an icon for a user without a password appeared, and I opened it. I felt Damien's presence behind me, his hand on my shoulder, and every muscle tensed with the unpleasant feeling of unwanted tension that tied my stomach. As soon as the user loaded, a player popped up on the screen and I pressed "Play" looking at the entrance to my home. Someone was holding a camera while the portal was attacked, the gunfire leaving my men no choice but to die. The recording continued into the yard, along the driveway that led to the front door of the house. I stood and watched as my home was attacked.

With every second of the recording, with every dead man who worked for me, my knees got weaker. Elena! The man with the camera kept recording, his hands shaking, but he didn't miss a single important shot as the attackers moved into my home as if they had known it all their lives, picking off my men one by one, heading straight for our bedroom.

"Damn it!" Damien took a sharp breath behind me, but I seemed to suddenly shut down. All I could see was the attackers bursting into our bedroom, Elena sleeping in our bed, hugging my pillow, red hair scattered around her beautiful, relaxed face, wearing one of my shirts. Her scream pierced my eardrums like a bomb blast, the camera recording her reaction nearby, the terror in her eyes, the moment she woke up as a gloved hand holding a rag rested on her mouth, the blood draining from her face and instead to fight, she just hugged her belly, curled up in a ball, trying to protect our baby, and then her teary eyes turned to the man with the camera.

Her pupils dilated, the recorder seemed to want to show me everything, he zoomed in and this is where my mind started working. I stared into Elena's eyes, something of horror written in them, the way her eyebrows were sunken but suddenly raised high and her retina contracted, expanded and reflected someone's silhouette, the way her forehead wrinkled and red spots broke out her sides, something that happened whenever Elena was angry. And then the record died.

"Victor, I'm sorry..." I interrupted Damien. "We're going home" I closed the laptop and took it. Elena's look went over and over in my mind, at first her reaction was normal, they break into your home, barge into your bedroom and kidnap you, it's normal to be shocked and scared. But at the end, Elena was not only scared, for a hundredth of a second, as soon as she looked at the camera, my wife went crazy with anger.

"Victor?" Damien was walking beside me. "We won't find anything else here" I answered and looked around. "Marcus?" Marcus appeared next to me, I can see his anxiety, many times smaller than the one that was eating me from the inside, but at the moment I couldn't afford to let myself go. "Get our people, go back to the mansion and see if you can find any alive, especially Emma, Elena loves her" I started and Marcus nodded. "Do you have people who can study the recording?" I asked turning to Damien who immediately nodded. "Okay, we're going to your place" he narrowed his eyes, but nodded again and hurried forward, bellowing orders.

"Elena knows the guy with the camera, here!" I hit pause, hanging over the shoulder of the man Damien introduced as his computer specialist. "Can you zoom in so we can see who my wife is looking at?" I pointed to the silhouette reflected in Elena's eyes. "Why do you think she knows the cameraman?" Damien pushed a cup of coffee in front of my face and I stood up, taking the cup. "Elena rarely gets angry, in fact, I've seen her angry two or three times" I started and took a sip of my coffee, letting the hot bitter liquid try to relax me at least a little so I could think.

"In the beginning of the recording she looks scared to death, normal given the way she's woken up, but here" I pointed at the laptop, watching the man work on trying to clear the already enlarged image. "Here she's freaking out, her pupils reacted like someone who saw something familiar that pissed them off and she got mad. Elena knows the guy with the camera, that's why she stops fighting at the end" I explained and Damien's brows sunk as he also draw attention to the recording and zoomed-in image.

"If you're right, that confirms the traitor theory" Damien squeaked and I nodded. "Do you think it could be her father?" he asked looking at me and I bit my inner cheek. After Mascot started working with Cosa Nostra, he rarely left his home and was always heavily guarded, he knew I was watching him and didn't want to leave anything to chance. Even if I don't want to admit it, my father-in-law was a smart bastard, but he was hardly brave enough to personally participate in an attack.

"It's possible" I muttered long and took a thoughtful sip of my coffee. "But I can't be sure. Nicholas Mascot is not one of those people who would get his hands dirty personally, even if he doesn't approve of our marriage and wants to get Elena back, not that I'm ruling him out, but I wouldn't bet on his personal involvement. Whoever Elena recognized is probably someone who is aware of everything, that's for sure, but it's hardly her father" I finished my thought and looked again at the computer guy's work.

"Is this...is that Elena?" we both turned sharply. Flushed with fever, her hair disheveled, wrapped tightly in a dressing gown, Ophelia clutched her hands to her mouth in horror, her eyes fixed between us on the image on the laptop. "Why are you up angel, you're in no condition to be out of bed" Damien put his coffee cup down and hurriedly walked over to Ophelia, wrapping his arms around her so that he blocked her view of the laptop. "Is that Elena, D? Is she being kidnapped?" the tremor in her voice only brought back what I was trying to push far back in my mind so I could work and find my wife, pure, unadulterated fear.

I know Christina, Ophelia and Oscar love Elena. I envy such a friendship, the three would do anything for her and the fear and pain written on Ophelia's sick face proved it. "She's fine, angel..." Damien began, but was cut off by a commotion coming from the front of the room. "Victor!" Dominic burst in, dragging three men with him who tried to hold him back. Good luck with that, Dominic was a beast when he was angry and right now my friend was seething to death.