"Dimitri!" I call. "Dimitri, I'm sorry!"

I have forgotten a coat, as always, and the cold bites at my arms. He walks at the same, steady pace, his freakishly tall legs making me run to catch up.

"Dimitri, please stop!" I break into a run, grabbing onto his shoulder. At first, he shrugs me off, but when my fingers firmly dig into him, he spins.

His expression is unreadable, his eyes wild. "Leave me alone," he hisses.

"Dimitri-"

He sighs. "Please, Rose. Just this once. Leave me alone."

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry, Dimitri, I'm so-"

I freeze.

Nausea creeps up like a curling, wispy fog, crawling up my abdomen, leaving a thick, musty coating. "Dimitri..."

Closer, the feeling crawls into my throat. He is giving me an odd look, staring at my wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression.

"Rose?"

"They're coming," I whisper, quickly doing inventory. Two sort-of Guardians, in their night clothes, with no stake.

"Who is? Rose, are you alright? Rose, who's coming?"

I gulp. "Strigoi."

He tenses, grapping my shoulders. "What? Rose, what are you talking about?"

"I can feel it," I stutter out. "I can feel them."

Dimitri's brows furrow in confusion. "Feel them?"

And it suddenly occured to me. Dimitri didn't know. He didn't know that I could sense Strigoi. He'd seen the strigoi at the same time that I had before the fight at the academy, and I'd had no time to talk to him afterwards.

"Dimitri," I explain. "We don't have time for this. It's a shadowkissed side effect. But they're coming, please, you have to believe-"

He jerks my wrist, running full speed down the street, me scrambling to catch up. We fly past houses, Dimitri mumbling under his breath. Until, that is, I feel a sharp tug on my other wrist, sending me sprawling backwards.

It's as if we've been driving, only to hit a brick wall. I feel the familiar snapping of whiplash as my head jerks back, and I am ripped out of Dimitri's grip.

"Belikov?" says the incredulous voice. "We heard you we turned back. Thought you had the brains to stay away from here. Guess I was wrong."

I don't even look, just swing my fists upwards and over my head, connecting with my target. Considering where his hands are, I'll either hit his neck, jaw, or nose. Every one of them is a good option.

The man grunts, and I spin to face my attacker. I expect Dimitri to come help me, but when I don't feel his presence come any closer, angry and bitterness builds within me.

I am alone.

And stakeless.

I strike, again and again, him blocking every time. I use everything I can, but with no stake, he remains undefeated.

When I hear Dimitri cry out, I quickly turn. He's on all fours, clutching his abdomain. Four strigoi surround him. Four. He really is a god. But, being severely outnumbered, one of the strigoi had obviously managed to get a wicked shot. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running.

Running forward, running towards Dimitri. As the strigoi reaches out, fangs bared, I barrel into Dimitri, knocking both of us over and out of the way.

My eyes water as a sharp sting radiates through my scalp. I am pulled up by my hair, off of Dimitri.

I kick and scream, but he holds me fast.

Dimitri is up, his eyes glinting deadly, the moonlight shimmers over his stony face. I can feel as the man lowers his head towards my neck, slowly, as if to taunt Dimitri, the very essence of him tells me of his power, of his age.

The Guardian inside of him launches forward, and I can't help but think of the cafe. Don't touch her. He looked like he would have fought every guardian in the place. The man squeezes his fingers together, my hair tightening like a vice, but quickly throws me aside. I fall to the ground, my head cracking against the pavement. My world swims with dark, swirling colours.

But the edges of my vision darkens as the man steps down, pressing my wrist between his foot and the curb. My wrist, thin and frail, snaps crisply, and a stinging, roaring, pulsing heat sweeps up my arm and into my head.

I scream.

I think I can hear Dimitri screaming my name, but it is washed away quickly, drowned by my frenzy of other senses. Tears stream from my eyes, but with one last act of desperation, I reach out and pull the ring off of my finger.

Oksana's ring.

My fingers are swollen, and the pain of tugging it off of my broken hand is almost my undoing, but I manage to slide it off.

White, gauzy figures swarm, sweeping and swaying, screaming silence into the night. I watch as the figures bend and blur in my vision, and I fight to stay awake.

Slowly, so slowly, they begin to fade, the nausea shrinking, until it is gone altogether.

"Rose? Rose can you hear me? Talk to me, say something. What happened, did you hit your head? What did you do? Rose, say something."

I groan and lift my heavy, aching head. Dimitri leans over me, crouched on the balls of his feet. "Rose? Rose?"

I nod, wincing, and allow him to help me up. He pulls me into sitting position, letting me lean my head against his shoulder as I sway. I moan in pain.

"Rose..." he whispers, quickly removing his jacket while balancing me. He ties the leather sleeves behind my neck, and slips my twisted and mangled arm into his makeshift sling. He half carries me the two blocks back to the Belikov household, murmuring into my ear, things I can't understand.

Laying me down on the couch, he quickly disappears, I breathe deeply through the pain, surprised that I didn't pass out like I did when I broke my ankle.

Suddenly, two faces appear, hovering over me, their eyes identical. The leather arms are removed from my neck, my broken wrist cradled in soft hands.

"Oh, Roza," Olena mutters. "What happened?" She turns to Dimitri. "Please tell me you didn't do this."

Dimitri face molds into a guilt-ridden mask. Guilt?

"No," I murmur groggily. "No, it's not his fault. Really. Strigoi..."

Olena gently pushes my head back onto the pillow.

"We have to take her to the hospital," Dimitri insists, but Olena shakes her head.

"No, we cannot. Look at her. Scratched, bloody, bruised and broken. There's going to be questions, Dimitri. Questions that humans cannot have answers to."

"We can't just leave her! She'll never be able to use that hand again!"

"What?" I cry, trying to sit up. "No! This is... this is my dominant hand. This is the hand that I stake with! I have to use it, otherwise-"

"Shh," he whispers. "It's okay, I didn't mean to upset you."

I just shake my head, my exhaustion and stress causing tears to fall down my cheeks. He holds my hand as Olena works and repositions my wrist, I try not to cry out. She wraps thick layers of bandages, spiraling around my arm.

"What happens if it doesn't heal right?" I whimper. "What if I can't use my hand anymore? What's going to happen? I can't... I can't go back if I can't guard! I can't-"

Dimitri shifts me in his arms, careful not to jar my wrist. Olena flicks her eyes upward from her work, watching.

"Rose, it's alright," Dimitri soothes, pulling a loose strand of dark hair from my face. "You'll be fine. When we get back to Court, Vasilisa-''

"But what if my wrist has already healed by then? She can't heal something that's not broken, even if my arm is mutated!"

I begin to panic, shaking enough to send a sharp fire through my wrist.

"Roza, you're arm won't be mutated. Just be still, okay? It will all be alright, I promise."

How easy it was to just sit back in his arms, to let him take care of me.

"Okay, Rose, we're going to have to wait a few hours until we can get some things from the store. We'll make you a cast."

I nod, and Dimitri helps me lay down on the couch. I watch him and Olena talk quietly in Russian, before their voices become blurred, and their images fade to blackness.

...

I awaken to a cold compress sitting against my arm. I crack open my eyes. Olena sits on the floor beside the sofa, smothering plaster and bandages onto my wrist.

"Good morning, Roza," she smiles, without even looking up.

"How's my arm?" I ask.

She sighs. "I don't know, Roza. I hope it will heal normally. I'm sorry about being unable to take you to the hospital."

I shake my head. "It's okay, Olena. I just... If I can't guard, I don't know what I'm going to do with my life."

She nods, finishing with the last bandage, her eyes not meeting mine. "Maybe," she says softly. "Dimitri feels the same way."

Before I can respond, he appears in the door, fully dressed, hair tousled and eyes imprinted with shadows, looking concerned.

"Rose, how are you feeling? There's something for the pain, if you need it. It's over-the-counter, but it might help a small amount."

I nod, mumbling a thank you. We stare at each other for a portion of a second before both turning away. I cannot believe how distant we had become in a matter of seconds. I had shielded him with my own body for God's sake.

Olena sighs loudly, bringing us out of our thoughts, and finishes off my cast.

"Okay, you'll have to let that sit until it dries. I'll go make breakfast."

She disappears into the kitchen.

Dimitri follows.

I groan and rise off of the couch, frustration creating a pain in my stomach. I push myself up, carefully cradling the moist cast in my arms.

I know this chapter jumps forward, and Rose is suddenly running after Dimitri, but this is crucial to the story, just you wait!