Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

Elena’s POV:
The second the door flung open, we both leapt out—no hesitation, no looking back. My feet slammed onto the pavement, knees nearly buckling from the impact, but I kept moving.
"Come on!" Nikolai shouted beside me, his voice sharp over the relentless beeping that pulsed from behind us like a countdown.
He grabbed my hand. The wind whipped past us as we sprinted down the road. His hand was clenched around mine so tight it hurt, but I didn’t say a word. All I could think was we’re not going to make it.
And then we didn’t.
The explosion tore through the air with a sound so loud, I didn’t hear it at first. It was just light. Orange, white, blistering light that turned the world inside out. The impact slammed into my back like a sledgehammer, and I flew forward, my fingers slipping from Nikolai’s as we tumbled hard onto the asphalt. I rolled, scraping my elbows and knees, a sharp pain radiating in my hands, head hitting something, and then—darkness.
No thoughts. No pain. Just black.
—-
I came back slowly. Like swimming up through molasses.
The first thing I heard was beeping. A soft, rhythmic monitor. The second thing I noticed was the pain—or the lack of it, really. I felt like I should hurt—especially after that blast—- but everything was numb.
And then I saw him.
Nikolai.
He was sitting next to me, hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it was whispering secrets. His jacket was gone. The white button-down was stained and wrinkled. Bandages wrapped around his head, one eye shadowed by light bruising.
He looked up. Saw me. And everything in him changed.
“Oh thank God,” he breathed, lurching to his feet. His voice was raw, shaky in a way I’d never heard before. He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Thank God. You’re awake.”
I blinked slowly, trying to sit up, but the second I moved, I felt it—a pull in my arms, a tightness.
I looked down.
Both my hands were completely swaddled in bandages.
I winced. “What the hell…?”
“Don’t,” Nikolai said, gently guiding me back down against the pillows. “You were burned. Second degree. They said it would’ve been worse if you weren’t wearing that jacket.”
I scowled. “What about you?”
He scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Just a scratch.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Your head is wrapped like a mummy.”
“Yeah, well,” he muttered. “I got clipped by the bumper on the way down. You should see the bumper.”
“Not funny.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right. Not funny. Just stupid. I should’ve gotten you out faster.”
“Nikolai,” I said, frowning, “it wasn’t your fault.”
I paused then asked, “What exactly happened anyways? I don’t remember anything.” I winced as I felt my head pulse.
He sat back down in the chair, dragging a hand through his hair. “We got to the hospital in an ambulance. You were out for a few hours. Docs gave you a pretty heavy dose of painkillers. You probably can’t feel anything right now, but when it wears off...” He exhaled. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”
I stared at my wrapped hands, trying to move my fingers.
Nothing.
Panic rose, sharp and hot in my throat.
“I can’t—”
“They said you’ll get sensation back soon,” Nikolai interrupted, his tone firm. “The nerves weren’t too damaged. You just need time.”
I tried to breathe.
Okay. Okay.
Time.
And then it hit me.
“Shit,” I muttered, eyes going wide. “Shit. Shit. Nikolai!”
He stood up again, alarmed. “What?”
“I have a presentation the day after tomorrow!”
He blinked. “You what?”
“A presentation! For my practical exam!” I was practically shouting. “It was supposed to be yesterday but the professor rescheduled and now—”
“Elena,” he said firmly, trying to calm me. “You almost died.”
“Yes,” I said, panic coiling in my gut, “but this counts for thirty percent of my grade. It’s the one thing I actually prepped for, and I don’t know if they’ll let me postpone it again.”
He ran a hand down his face. “You need to breathe. Your hands are bandaged. You can barely move. They’ll understand.”
“I can’t fail this class, Nikolai.”
Oh my god what even am I going to do? Vasily already dislikes me after the Lazar fiasco. There’s no way he’ll agree to postpone.
Nikolai frowned then, “Can’t you have one of your friends help out?” He asks and I look at him dumbfounded. “Well…I guess I could ask Fiona to help set things up and move the slides.” I paused then, “No. Wait. I think she had work that day.” I groan.
Nikolai sighs, “No one else? It’s just moving slides isn’t it? Can’t you just ask any classmate? Or do you need more help?”
I shake my head, “I also need to edit some more stuff, I added last minute. But it’s a solo project. I can’t ask a classmate for help…not that anyone would be willing to help.” I roll my eyes and he frowns.
Before Nikolai could say anything else, the hospital room door burst open with a loud bang against the wall.
“ELENA!”
I knew that voice before I even turned my head.
My mother’s voice—raw, high with panic. She stormed inside like a thunderstorm, still in heels and a coat that looked half-buttoned. Her blonde hair was windblown and face pale as bone. It was clear she was at work when she heard the news and rushed over. The moment her eyes landed on me, the breath caught in her throat.
She didn’t hesitate. In two strides, she was at the side of the bed, arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace.
“Oh my baby,” she murmured, clutching me fiercely. I could feel her shaking. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re—”
Her voice cracked.
She pulled back enough to look at me properly, cupping my face like she did when I was seven and scraped my knees. But the moment her gaze dropped, her breath caught again.
My hands.
Her eyes locked on the bandages swathing both of them, fingers trembling as she reached for one—then stopped just shy, afraid to touch.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “Your hands…”
The expression on her face buckled. Her lips parted like she wanted to say more, but then her eyes shifted—past me, to the man standing behind her.
Nikolai.
He had risen from the chair when she entered. His posture was rigid, hands at his sides. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, but there was something tight in his jaw. Like he knew what was coming and had already decided not to defend himself.
Mom turned fully toward him, expression sharpening like a blade.
“What the hell happened?” she said, low and furious. “Why weren’t you protecting her?”
The words hit the room like a slap.
Nikolai didn’t speak. Not right away. He just stood there, expression unreadable, like he’d been preparing himself for this exact confrontation since the moment they wheeled us in.
“Mom,” I said, quietly. “It wasn’t his fault—”
But she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her focus was razor-locked on him.
“You were supposed to keep her safe,” she said. “Why did you take her out if you couldn’t?”
The energy in the room was crackling and my stomach plummeted.
“Mom! What are you even saying—”
But before I could say more, the door opened again. This time more gently.
A man in a white coat stepped inside, holding a clipboard and wearing a patient, practiced smile. A doctor. His ID badge read Dr. Marin.
He gave a small nod toward me.
“Mrs. Volkov,” he said gently, “you need to rest. Your hands sustained second-degree burns, and there’s ligament bruising as well. You won’t be able to use them—at all—for a minimum of two weeks. Any strain or movement could cause long-term damage to the nerves and tendons.”
I blinked.
“Two weeks?” I echoed, stunned. “But I—I can’t just….”
“I know,” he said quickly, sympathetic. “I’m sorry. But rest is absolutely crucial right now. We’ll continue the IV antibiotics and pain management in the meantime. There’s some swelling, but no need for surgery as of now, which is good news.”
I couldn’t even nod. My hands. Both of them. I looked down at the layers of white gauze and tape.
Two weeks of no typing, no gripping, no writing. No movement.
Beatrix inhaled sharply beside me, stepping closer to the doctor, but her eyes flicked back to Nikolai with unmistakable intensity.
As Dr. Marin exited the room, she turned fully again.
Her voice was quieter this time. No shouting. But sharper than glass.
“Start talking,” she said. “Now.”
“Tell me exactly what happened and how.”