BECKONING

Alina's Pov

A soft light flashed in and out, like a distant memory. I could hear voices, muffled and far away, blending into a cacophony of confusion.

“Clear out the OR!” someone shouted, urgency lacing their tone.

I tried to open my eyes, to grasp onto the threads of consciousness, but it was like trying to catch smoke. My body felt heavy, each breath a struggle against an unseen weight.

The world beyond was beckoning on me, and now I wasn't so sure I would be able to resist it.

*****

Darkness.

That was the first thing I remembered. It was an endless, suffocating darkness that felt more like drowning than sleep. My body floated somewhere between pain and oblivion, voices muffled like they were underwater, hands brushing over my skin, cold metal under my back, and the sterile scent of antiseptic.

I was dying—or maybe I already had. But something kept tugging me back. A voice? A touch? I didn’t know. Time had no meaning in that abyss.

I blinked, my eyelids heavy as if weighted by lead. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, and the distant beeping of monitors echoed in my ears.

"She's waking up," a voice murmured.

I turned my head slightly, wincing at the pain that shot through my neck. And by gods! Everything fucking hurts.

My chest, my face... especially my face. It felt like someone had peeled it open and stitched it back together with fire. The first thing I saw when my eyes finally focused was a man sitting at the foot of my hospital bed.

He wasn’t in scrubs and he didn’t look like a doctor either.  He had ash blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and arms crossed tightly over a dark button-up rolled to the elbows, revealing tattoos that danced over his forearms. There was a cold, unreadable air about him.

I blinked. Tried to speak.

"Water," I rasped. My throat was raw, each word scraping like sandpaper.

He got up immediately as if on autopilot and returned with a glass, lifting it gently to my lips. I sipped, coughed, and sipped again.

"You’ve been out for four days," he said once I’d calmed. His voice was deep, low, with a quiet authority. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

I blinked again. Flashes. Screeching tires. Pain. Blood.

And him.

I nodded slowly. "My... husband," I whispered. The word tasted like ash as I uttered it.

His jaw clenched but he didn’t ask for more.

"I'm Doctor Damien Voss," he said, his expression unreadable. "This is my hospital. I was driving back from a shift when I saw you get hit. If I’d been a second later..."

He didn’t finish.

I stared at him. This man—so rough around the edges—had saved my life?

"You’re a doctor?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

His brow arched. "I'm a doctor, yes. Sworn to save lives, regardless of what I look like."

My face burned even more. "I didn’t mean—"

"It's fine," he said smoothly. "I’m used to it."

I lowered my gaze. "I’m sorry."

He shook his head and turned slightly away. "I need to brief you on your condition."

My stomach twisted. I didn't like the sound of that.

“You sustained multiple injuries from the impact—fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, several broken bones. But the worst was your face. You were dragged several feet. Most of the skin and tissue on the left side was severely damaged."

I didn’t breathe.

"We stabilized you," he continued. "But if you want to have a shot at full recovery... facial reconstruction surgery is necessary."

I closed my eyes. God, what had that bastard done to me.

"You don’t have to decide now," he added. "But time isn’t on your side."

I was tempted to say that time was never on my side but I clamped my mouth shut instead.

Dr. Voss spared me a glance and then nodded. “I think that would be all.”

He turned to leave, but I managed to speak. "Why... why did you help me?"

He paused at the door. "Because I was there. And because no one else was."

My throat tightened with thick emotions. "But... I was dying. Why didn’t you let me go?"

He looked over his shoulder, gaze cold. "Because no one deserves to die like that."

I swallowed the scream in my throat.

"Doctor Voss?" My voice broke. "Did you... did you see the driver?"

He stared at me a moment. Then nodded. "Black car. Tinted windows. Drove off the moment I stepped out."

I nodded weakly, lying back into the pillow, pain wrapping around my chest.

"Do you remember who did it?" he asked quietly.

Almost immediately, everything came rushing back. The pain. The betrayal. The sound of his voice—You shouldn’t have messed with me, bitch.

My body shook and my lips parted before I could stop them. "It was my husband. No... my ex-husband."

I don't know why I told him that considering the fact that I was not in a position to trust anyone right now but something told me to tell him the truth.

I owed him that much for saving my life.

Damien’s face darkened. "What?"

I choked out a bitter laugh. "He ran me over after I caught him in bed with his mistress. In our bed."

He stared at me, stunned. Then looked away, rubbing his hand down his face as he muttered curses.

"I married a monster," I whispered, finally acknowledging what has been in the back of my mind since that night..

He didn’t deny it. "You should rest," he said softly. "We’ll talk again when you’re stronger."

He left, and I was alone with my scars and the hole in my heart.

The next day, the nurses buzzed around me, talking softly but throwing glances whenever they thought I wasn’t looking.

"Is he really a doctor?" I finally asked one.

She smiled, almost immediately knowing who I was talking about. "Best we’ve got. Cold as hell but brilliant. They say he used to be military, others say mafia. No one really knows. But in the OR, he’s a god."

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I was intrigued by the man called Damien Voss but I really wasn't sure I would be able to be interested in men in general after what Nate did to me.

That afternoon, a nurse returned with news. "You have visitors."

My heart stopped. Him? Sasha? Were they here to finish what they started?

"Who?" I asked, voice trembling as I clutched my bed sheets tighter.

"An older man and a woman. She said her name was Margot," the nurse told me.

Margot?

I was sure I didn't have any person named Margot.

Moments later, the door opened, and in stepped a woman with sharp cheekbones, black hair pulled back in a bun, and the kind of poise that made you straighten unconsciously. But my eyes darted to the man behind her—and my breath caught.

"Theo?" I whispered, my brows pulling together in a frown..

The older man smiled faintly, his eyes misty.

"Butler Theo," I choked on a sob. "Is it really you?"

He nodded. "It’s me, Miss Alina."

Tears welled in my eyes as memories of my childhood—before the death, before the marriage—came flooding back.

Margot stepped forward. "I’m here on behalf of your parents, Alina. We have a lot to talk about."

My chest tightened at the mention of my parents. "Why now?" I asked.

She leaned closer. "Because now... it’s time you remember who you truly are."