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2025-08-05 05:47:13
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The Vision She Hid 87
The cypress trees leaned in like gossiping old women, their crooked fingers brushing the blacked-out SUV as it slid up the long gravel road. A thin line of smoke hung in the air—wood smoke, probably. The kind that settles in your bones and refuses to leave. The familiar smell of the house I thought I’ll never see again.Elky drove like a man rehearsing his funeral route. One hand on the wheel, one eye on nothing in particular. Silent. Bleeding, still in pain. But it wasn’t the kind of bleeding you could bandage. This was Jennings-level bleeding—slow, dignified, noble inconvenience.“Are we going somewhere else, right?” I asked, because someone had to break the tension before it curdled into something solid.He didn’t answer. Just hit the gas a little harder, like our house might grow legs and run away if he didn’t catch it in time.“Elky?”“No,” he said, voice made of dry glass. “We’re going home, rabbit.”Yeah, why not, home. That’s cute. Like we were just two misfits coming back to
The Vision She Hid 86
Every palazzo has a heart — not where the parties were thrown or the lovers were hidden, but where the skeletons were filed in alphabetical order. Elky’s family palace was no exception. You could smell the secrets in the woodwork, in the dusty folds of antique drapes.It took me full fifteen minutes to find the hidden study behind my bedroom. Fifteen more to pick the lock with a bent hairpin and a prayer. The hinges sighed with disappointment when I pushed the door open, as if the room had been holding its breath for three years and wasn’t happy about me walking in.The smell hit me first — old paper, cold leather, and a hint of whatever gunpowder turns into when it is not used for too long. It felt like the kind of room where men made decisions that got other men killed, and then lit cigars to celebrate their brilliance. The wallpaper was a baroque green, peeling in places like bad sunburn. The curtains were too heavy for this century, and the dust lay on everything like my bad judgm
The Vision She Hid 85
Waking up after blacking out is like answering a phone you know you shouldn’t. You pick it up anyway, because curiosity always gets you murdered first.The chaise lounge was empty and cold. It felt like a kiss that never happened or a promise someone didn’t intend to keep. My shoulder was tighter than before, bandaged by hands that knew the shape of every bone I owned. I could still smell him — the familiar cocktail of cologne, dry blood, and cigarettes. But big Elky was gone.The fire had died in the grate. The chandelier was off. No sunlight — just the pale, breathless kind of grey that creeps in your heart before dawn. The chandelier above me had stopped swaying. The room was still but it didn’t feel safe. Like the air had secrets it didn’t want to share with me. I shifted to the right to look at my phone. It was a mistake.My body answered with a sharp protest — a stabbing pain in the shoulder that reminded me what bullets do when they feel vindictive. I groaned, rolled back. The
The Vision She Hid 84
Waking up in a stranger’s bed usually came with four things: hangover, regret, a headache, and the urge to leave before your name started to smell like stale perfume. This time it came with a bandaged shoulder as a bonus, the scent of bergamot, and enough silence to make a nun suspicious.The sheets were too clean and too soft, like someone had murdered a cloud and fluffed it up just for me. A ceiling stared down at me with elegantly cracked gold moldings, like heaven had once lived here but packed up expecting me to move in. The wallpaper was faded damask, still jeweled green but peeling into paler shades. The cotton velvet curtains hung heavy and obedient, the kind that remembered better days but didn’t enjoy speaking of them.Ouch. My shoulder burned. It wasn’t a polite throb — no, this was the full jazz band of pain, brass and all. It was pain with a backbeat. A reminder that whatever dream I’d been in, this wasn’t in it. The room was real. Or at least, had enough intriguinly expe
The Vision She Hid 83
The wind came in crooked, like everything else in this family. It picked up the orchard dust and threw it in our faces like an insult that couldn’t be undone. Branches hissed and leaned like they were eavesdropping. Above the treetops, the moon had crawled up just far enough to witness the mess and turn away, ashamed.Big Elky was still on his knees. Split lip. One eye swelling into a bruise the size of a small country. His hands were tied behind his back like he was too dangerous to trust with the open air. The only thing standing tall was his pride.He even knelt the way a king might—stripped of his crown but still wearing the dignity. Blood ran down the side of his jaw, slow and thick.Behind me, Nicos took a single step back, just enough to make the space between us ache. He didn’t like when I got too close to my own thoughts. That’s where his power unraveled. Then Elky’s voice cut through the orchard like a bad memory.“Is that what you always wanted, rabbit?” he said to me. His
The Vision She Hid 82
The orchard looked different after a failed coup. Less like a childhood memory and more like a crime scene waiting for a chalk outline. The light dripped low through the leaves, sticky and blood-colored, as if the sky had a nosebleed. Nicos’s men moved like they’d done this before—quiet boots on crunching dirt, gloved fingers on safeties, eyes sharp but hollow. Men who didn’t come here for fruit, only harvests of a more permanent kind.I stood still and lost in the middle of it. The gun in my hand was heavier than it had ever been, like it had picked up all the weight I never let myself feel. My wrist didn’t tremble, but inside me something was peeling—like old wallpaper hiding the old bullet holes.The flickering light from the half-burnt greenhouse cast shadows that danced like fine liars. It smelled of lemons and cordite. I could hear the low hum of Nicos’s men breathing together like a single animal. They were coordinated, coiled, ready to do some damage.And then came Nicos. My f
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