Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You won’t win this,” Natalia says from behind me, still bound to the pillar.
My vision goes hazy, and the only thing I’m looking for, beyond the trees, is blond hair.
Be safe.
The thought burns through my mind.
I groan as I feel hot blood start to drip down my stomach, I look down, and all I see is red.
I look up, and I blink, trying to force my vision to focus.
Fight the shock.
I’m looking at Niko, now, as he grips the gun from Lucian’s hand and takes it away. Lucian is fast, though. Even with his wound, he’s able to scramble away in the gravel, tripping for a moment but then running, fast, toward the trees.
He’s going in Tate’s direction.
“Go,” I try to shout, but it comes out more like a groan.
Lucian turns to look back at us, one last time, with a crazed look in his eyes. “This could have been so fucking easy, Petrov.”
And I see, behind him, Tate walking up.
He has my metal flashlight in his hands.
And he brings it down, hard and true, right at the center of Lucian’s skull.
Not even a real fucking weapon, beauty.
My vision is hazier at the edges now as I watch Lucian sway in place. Shock is settling in my nervous system. I’ve felt it before, but I’ve never had a gunshot this close to my vital organs before.
Tate brings the heavy flashlight down onto Lucian’s head again.
And then again.
Look at you.
You never needed my protection, did you?
So capable. So utterly perfect, all on your own.
He is my guardian angel, and I don’t know if I’m losing consciousness, but I know that Tate Landrey holds my heart in his hands, and I would trust him with it forever.
Forever.
A surge of adrenaline flows through me, giving me enough energy to rush back into clarity for a brief moment.
I reach lower, patting around for any weapon I can find, but the reach makes my stomach drip with too much blood.
Have to finish it…
Have to kill him.
“Roman, rest,” I hear Yegor’s low voice from beside me. “Let me. I owe it to you… I owe you everything.”
Yegor’s shot is true.
His bullet hits Lucian Farina, going right through his temple, and I exhale relief. My own pain isn’t registering anymore. It’s setting in… and finally, I am free. Tate is free. As I slip into the darkness, only one thought swirls through my mind.
You are safe, my beauty.
That’s all I ever wanted.
18
Tate
The back of the ambulance lurches as it hits a bump in the road and I reach out instinctually, putting my hands at Roman’s side.
As if I could stop the bleeding.
As if anything I could do now would change anything.
I’m in a dream, the sirens wailing out from the truck as we drive, the smell of blood and antiseptic and rubber trapped in the air of the back of this thing.
Blood seeps out of Roman onto his shirt, coming from his stomach, more and more, until the paramedics put more pressure on it and I have to take my eyes away.
I stopped shaking long ago, because my body shook so hard it couldn’t anymore.
I’m afraid of everything.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t see things like this. Not ever, in my lifetime.
So many people got shot.
Fuck, Roman, you got shot, and I…
Are the cops going to be there, waiting for us like vultures over a dead body, surrounding Roman’s hospital bed? How widespread is the corruption that exists in the city, hundreds of miles away? Will they know it was all self-defense? Will anyone know the goddamn truth about anything?
I pull in a long, slow breath and feel Roman’s pinky come out to gently stroke along my hand.
He can still move, in these little ways.
Showing me he’s still there.
But he doesn’t open his eyes.
He isn’t… him.
My stable rock, always there to tell me that everything is okay.
He murmurs something softly, but it’s in Russian, and even if it were in my language I don’t think I would have understood it. I lean over to kiss his shoulder, and one of the paramedics pushes me back, telling me to move away.
Hours melt into hours, sitting around in the hospital waiting room, and the night drags on into a long, uninterrupted blur.
The lighting in the hospital is too bright, too fluorescent. I get a latte from the cheap little machine down the hall that was called “pumpkin spice” but it tastes more like burnt, old cinnamon and clove. There’s a constant faint beeping from some open door nearby, and a round desk at the center of the hall is where nurses gather between tasks, tapping things out on keyboards and making phone calls.
The whole world is going by.
Even while Roman is lying in there, possibly dying.
And I hate every moment of waiting.
Hunter was with us in the ambulance and soon, Sev, Niko, and Maks arrive, coming to find us in the waiting area.