Serena's POV
"Easy. Don't try to move."
The voice reaches me before my eyes do.
His voice is Deep,Calm and slightly hoarse.
I inhale sharply and the pain detonates behind my forehead. Not sharp, not clean but a heavy, pulsing ache, like something is pressing outward from inside my skull, demanding space.
The smell comes next. The cliche smell of hospital . I've been in the hospital a lot of times that the smell has registered in my head. My eyes flutter open and immediately regret it. Light floods in, white and unforgiving. I squeeze them shut again, my body refusing to cooperate, limbs heavy like they don't belong to me anymore.
Machines beep nearby. Steady and Controlled.
Too controlled.
I try to sit up.
Pain tears through my ribs and head at the same time, stealing the breath from my lungs. A sound escapes me...small, humiliating.
"Easy," the voice says again, closer now. "You've been through enough."
My heart slams hard against my chest.
Enough of what?
The road crashes back into my mind without warning.
Headlights.
A horn blaring too loud.
The sound of my own breath hitching as I stepped forward.
The pressure in my skull spikes suddenly, sharp and blinding. I gasp, fingers curling into the sheets beneath me as the memory fragments overlap the buzzing traffic noise changing into shouting, metal screeching into something that sounds like screaming.
Not mine.
Someone else's.
"Where am I?" I whisper, my throat dry, my voice barely there.
"You were hit by a car," the man says calmly. "You're in a private medical facility."
Private??
The word echoes, wrong and heavy.
I force my eyes open again. The ceiling above me is smooth and spotless. No cracks. No stains. No flickering lights. The room is large, quiet, expensive in a way I recognize immediately because I've never belonged in places like this.
Another pulse of pain slams into my head.
For a split second, the ceiling flickers turning into something else.
A different white ceiling.
A child's height view.
A woman's voice murmuring something I can't quite hear.
My vision swims, and I squeeze my eyes shut again, breathing through the ache.
"You okay?" the man asks.
I nod weakly, even though I'm not.
My fingers twitch, checking myself without really meaning to. My ribs ache when I breathe too deeply. My head feels swollen, too full. My legs feel distant, numb at the edges.
"Was the driver...?" I swallow. "Were they hurt?"
There's a pause. Too long.
"I don't know," he says.
The headache flares again, sharp enough to make me wince.
Another flash.
A woman's manicured hand slamming a phone down.
Isabella's voice cold, amused. Deal with it.
Antonio's voice, defensive, tired. It's gone, Serena. All of it.
My pulse spikes.
I suck in a breath, nails digging into the mattress.
"I was in the road," I say suddenly, shame burning hot in my chest. "I remember standing there."
The man doesn't react the way I expect. No judgment. No shock.
I turn my head slightly to look at him. He's sitting beside the bed, posture relaxed but alert, like he's never fully at ease. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Strong forearms. Stillness that feels practiced.
Dangerously practiced.
"Who paid for this?" I ask abruptly.
He studies me for a moment. "You don't need to worry about that."
"I do," I say quickly, panic crawling up my spine. "I can't afford any of this. I don't have money. My accounts are..."
My head throbs violently, cutting off the rest of my sentence.
Another flash crashes in.
A younger me.
Longer hair.
Standing in a garden I don't recognize, sunlight filtering through leaves.
Someone laughing at me and then a sudden sharp pain at my neck.
The pressure in my skull explodes.
I cry out, clutching my head as the room spins.
"No," the man says firmly.
His hand closes around my wrist, stopping me before I can tear the IV from my arm. The touch is warm and Solid.
"Breathe," he orders softly. "Just breathe."
I do, shallow and shaky.
"You're safe," he says. "No one is going to hurt you here."
I don't know why, but I believe him. The certainty in his voice overrides my fear, at least for now.
The silence between us stretches, thick and uncomfortable.
"What's your name?" he asks.
I hesitate.
My name feels... fragile. Like something cracked.
"Serena," I say finally.
His reaction is subtle but unmistakable. A flicker in his eyes. Gone almost instantly.
"Serena," he repeats quietly.
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
"And you?" I ask.
"Dante."
The name sends a chill down my spine, sharp and instinctive, like my body recognizes danger before my mind does.
His gaze drops to my neck.
The headache surges again, immediate and brutal.
I raise my hand instinctively, fingers brushing the scar beneath my jaw.
"How did you get that scar?" he asks.
"I don't know," I admit, the truth settling heavy in my chest. "I've had it as long as I can remember."
Another flash.
Hospital lights.
Beeping machines.
A nurse calling a name that doesn't sound quite like mine.
My head pounds harder, forcing a soft groan from my throat.
"There were a lot of hospital visits when I was younger," I add. "Things I don't remember properly."
Dante listens too closely. His jaw tightens.
"Do you remember how you got it?"
"No." My voice wavers. "Why?"
"You remind me of someone," he says.
Before I can ask who, panic crashes through me again.
"My mother," I say urgently. "She's sick. I need to leave."
Pain slams into me instantly when I try to move. I collapse back, breathless, tears stinging my eyes.
Dante is on his feet in an instant.
"They've sedated you," he says firmly. "You're not going anywhere tonight."
"What ?" I ask weakly.
He doesn't answer.
He straightens, authority settling around him like a shadow.
"Rest," he says.
Fear coils tight in my chest.
"You're not leaving tonight."
