Love Lost: Mafia Story

Chapter 33

The repetitive dream had been haunting me for days since our return from my grandfather's house. Each night, I found myself in a surreal setting: a lavish throne room adorned with crimson velvet and gold accents. I was seated on a grand throne, a glinting, bloodied knife in my hand, a crown of thorns precariously tilted upon my head. My subjects, thousands of them, knelt before me, their eyes filled with awe and submission.

Beside me, Damien sat, his presence a mixture of comfort and intrigue. He held me close, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his warmth a stark contrast to the eerie surroundings. The atmosphere felt oppressive, a mixture of power and foreboding.

And there, in the midst of this scene, a mirror appeared before me. Its surface was pristine at first, reflecting my image clearly. But gradually, a fog began to encase the mirror, obscuring my reflection until it was a mere smudge. It was as if something was hiding, something I couldn't quite grasp.

The dream persisted, night after night, each time a continuation of the previous one, building upon the unsettling imagery. The weight of the crown, the sensation of the knife's cold metal against my skin, the pressure of being watched by the kneeling masses—all of it felt strangely real yet incomprehensible.

Then, one night, as I sat on the throne with Damien beside me, the mirror returned. Its surface fogged up as usual, but this time the fog seemed thicker, more impenetrable. My unease intensified as I struggled to see beyond it, an inexplicable urgency taking over. The dream grew hazy, distorted, until suddenly the mirror shattered into countless shards.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. The fragments of the dream clung to me like a haunting melody. The sensation of the crown pressing on my forehead, the weight of the knife in my hand, the image of Damien's comforting presence—it was all still so vivid, as if I had truly experienced it.

I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the lingering unease. The remnants of the shattered mirror seemed to linger in the corners of my mind, whispering of hidden meanings and unspoken truths. What was my mind trying to convey to me through these recurring visions?

As I lay in the dim light of my room, my thoughts swirled like a tempestuous sea. I felt a strange mixture of fascination and dread, drawn to decipher the dream's enigma yet afraid of what I might unearth. It was as if a puzzle had been laid before me, its pieces scattered across the expanse of my subconscious.

The night was wrapped in shadows, a tapestry of darkness that shrouded the mansion. I stumbled through the dim hallway, the flickering moonlight casting eerie shapes upon the walls. My search for something, anything, was driven by an unexplainable urge, a need to escape the grip of that haunting dream that had ensnared my thoughts.

Finally, I reached a door, the cool knob a welcome sensation beneath my touch. As the door creaked open, I found myself stumbling into a room, my steps echoing loudly in the silence. In the dim light, I made out the shape of the bed, and I approached it like a hesitant cat, my senses alert, my heart pounding.

In the dimness of Damien's room, the air heavy with the remnants of the night, I stumbled in a half-dazed state, my heart still racing from the vivid dream that had awakened me. My mind seemed to guide me, almost on autopilot, until I found myself across the hallway, clutching the doorknob and stepping into Damien's room.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I was drawn to the sight of him sitting up in bed, his gaze meeting mine with a mixture of surprise and affection. In that moment, it was as if I had stumbled upon an anchor in the storm of my own thoughts. Without a second thought, I threw myself at him, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace.

His arms enveloped me, pulling me close as I buried my face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent that always seemed to soothe my racing heart. "You're back?" I managed to murmur, my voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and relief. It was as if I needed tangible proof that he was real, that I hadn't conjured him from the depths of my own subconscious.

A soft smile curved his lips as his fingers gently tucked a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear. "Just got back an hour ago," he replied, his voice a reassuring murmur that sent shivers down my spine. I cleared my throat, attempting to regain my composure, but his hold on me remained steadfast.

The realization that he had sensed my distress dawned on me, and I couldn't help but feel a mixture of annoyance and gratitude. "How did you know?" I asked, my tone a blend of curiosity and irritation. He chuckled softly, his eyes dancing with amusement. "You're a bit of a mess right now," he teased, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along my back. "Sweaty, eyes darting, out of breath… and here with me."

In response, a mixture of exasperation and fondness bubbled up within me, and I playfully pushed him back onto the bed before straddling his waist. "Don't be a know-it-all," I retorted with a mock scowl, my fingers lightly tracing patterns over his chest. "It's not a good look on you."

He laughed, a melodic sound that seemed to chase away the lingering shadows of my nightmare. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze softening as he looked up at me. "But seriously, Harv, you don't have to go through this alone."

The sincerity in his eyes was a balm to my restless soul, and for a moment, I allowed myself to simply absorb his presence. With a sigh, I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I know," I whispered against his mouth, the weight of my vulnerability mingling with the intimacy of our connection.

As we lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the haunting tendrils of the nightmare began to recede, replaced by the steady rhythm of our shared breaths. In Damien's embrace, I found solace and strength, a reminder that even in the darkest corners of my mind, there was a beacon of light guiding me back to reality.

Sorry for the late update:/ been busy w exams. So Damien's back?