Mariana
I woke up and blinked my eyes open, instantly knowing that I wasn't dead. How could I be so sure? My side, where the bullet had gone in, hurt like hell, and I could hear the incessant beeping of machines.
It took me a moment to realize, but I was in the hospital.
For a split second, I wondered who had found me and brought me to the hospital on time. Then, I saw, to my surprise, that I wasn't alone in the room. There was a man in the room, sitting across from the bed. Our eyes locked, and I assumed, by the look of him, he was one of Jonas' men that I hadn’t met yet. My brain started moving, though slow, as I thought of how I might get out of this. Maybe I could just confide in one of the nurses before Jonas came back. But then my thoughts went to Bianca.
If Jonas had brought me to the hospital, it meant he had changed his mind. It meant that he didn’t want me to be hurt. If he would have me back, I could be reunited with Bianca again. That had to my priority. I couldn’t imagine what she had been going through without me.
The man was tapping away on his phone, possibly texting Jonas or just playing around on it. Who knew how many hours he had been ordered to sit here with me.
“Where is Bianca?” I asked him, warranting a strange look from him. Maybe he didn’t understand English. That was certainly a possibility. I’d have to make use of my Romanian.
“Unde este Bianca?” I asked again, hoping that would get me the answer I was looking for. The man stood up and took a few steps towards me, acting as though he understood this time.
“Bianca?” he asked.
I nodded a yes. So, I had been right about the language barrier. His accent was so thick I wondered how long he had been out of Romania.
“Care esta Bianca?” he asked. He was asking me who Bianca was. That made me feel uneasy. If he had been one of Jonas’ men, he would have known who Bianca was, especially now that Jonas had shown interest and taken her.
I felt like I was being backed into another corner. I wanted my daughter. I had to know she was safe.
“Unde este al naibii de fiica mea?!” I yelled at him, the man looked frightened a bit by my outburst and instantly grabbed his phone again, typing at 90 miles an hour. I didn’t know who he was trying to reach, but my panic was reaching a point of no return.
Before I could think of what else to do or say, I got a glimpse of my wrist, one that was black with bruises from Jonas before he shot me. Now, it was smooth and tan, almost completely free of any marks. I turned back to the man that had been watching me, babysitting me.
“How long have I been here? De cat timp am fost aici?” He didn’t have the time to answer because the door opened to reveal yet another man coming into my room.
“Lasa-ne,” the man said, dismissing the guard. I got the feeling, just from the air he had about him that this man was the one in charge or at least the one in charge of the guard. I noted the way he walked, his muscular body, and his green eyes. There was something strangely familiar about him, but I just couldn’t think of what. I looked him up and down, trying to get a read on him before asking my question again.
“De cat timp am fost aici?” I didn’t know what languages he spoke. He looked more American to me, but I used Romanian just in case.
“A week and a half,” he answered in perfect English with no accent. He was American, though he understood the language. Wait, a week and a half? Had Bianca been alone with Jonas and his men for a week and a half? I tried to get out of bed, but this man was on me, holding me to the bed before I could even scream from the pain of the movement.
I knocked his hands off of me, probably thrashing a little harder than I should with my injury. “I don’t appreciate strangers putting their hands on me,” I spat angrily. After what I had been through with Jonas, I didn’t feel like any other man getting grabby, no matter the reasoning.
The man laughed, and I glared at him for a moment, but I realized his laugh was not a sinister one. “I’m a little offended you don’t remember me,” he said in a teasing tone. I looked him up and down again, noting his tailored black suit and down to his leather shoes. I would have remembered a man like him. I had never met him. Could he have been friends with Jonas?
“C’mon, Ana,” he said, my childhood nickname rolling off his tongue. It was something my father used to call me, and it pulled at my heart strings to hear it. He had to be someone who my parents knew.
Another man came into the room, addressing him. “Mr. Petran,” the man said with a respectful bow of his head. That name made it click. I knew who he was now.
My mouth dropped open in shock. I couldn’t help it. This was something I could never have hoped for or expected.
“Ion?” I whispered. I hadn’t seen him since I was a young child, but now the dark hair and green eyes clicked. My betrothed had saved me, finally. It was like some real-life prince and princess shit; only it had taken him a bit too long for my taste. Why did he come now, after all this time? There was a chance he had a hard time finding me, but shouldn’t he have given up at some point?
Knowing he was the one who was with me gave me solace, but I was not naïve enough to think it was all rainbows, especially with my daughter still out there. Seeing his face now, just gave me more questions. I supposed the answers would have to come in time. The only one that mattered right now was the first one I asked about when I woke up.
Where was Bianca?