Chapter 170 172

Chapter 170 172
CORA

The hospital waiting room is empty except for me and Ivan.

We’ve been here for two hours already. The first hour passed quickly. It was eaten up by Ivan barking orders at every doctor in the vicinity to double- and triple-check me for any injuries.

“If something happens to her because any one of you motherfuckers didn’t do a thorough enough examination, I’ll burn this hospital to the ground,” he growled after I’d been x-rayed and examined at least three different times.

Beyond a mild concussion, I must be fine. Because, even with that threat hanging over their heads, each doctor cleared me to go home with Ivan as soon as I was ready.

But we didn’t go home. We came to the waiting room to wait. And wait. And wait.

“He should be out of surgery by now, right?” I drop my face into my hands and press my palms into my aching eye sockets. “He’s been back there for hours.”

“Two hours. That’s not that long for a gunshot wound.” Ivan massages his heavy hand between my shoulder blades. It eases the tension in my body, but I don’t think anything can help the ache in my heart.

“It feels like a long time. Someone should be coming to update us more often. Like, if he dies on the table, will they even tell us? They might not even know he’s my dad. I didn’t tell them. Did you tell them?”

He squeezes my shoulders until they ease down from around my ears. “As soon as there is something to know, they’ll tell us.”

I know he’s right, but this is torture. Sitting next to my father while he bled out on the floor was terrible, but at least I could watch his chest rise and fall. I knew he was alive.

Now, I’m powerless. And it’s all Francia’s fault.

“I can’t believe she shot him.” The tension Ivan rubbed away comes back in full force. “He has avoided my mom and Alexander for a decade, but one week of being in my life and he gets shot and ends up in the hospital.”

“I don’t think it is being part of your life that is the problem,” Ivan says softly. “My world is dangerous. It’s why I wanted to—”

I turn to him and squeeze his hand. “Don’t say it. I know you wanted to keep me safe, but sending me away wasn’t an option.”

He has been there for me all night—through the attacks and afterward. Every second since he barged through the front doors of his mansion and found Francia holding me hostage has been spent trying to protect me and make sure I’m okay.

“I chose you, Ivan.” The light behind him flares in my concussed vision, casting him in a faint glow. If it didn’t burn so fucking badly, it would be kind of beautiful. “I chose your life. It’s my life, too. Our life.”

He nods. “It is our life, Cora. You decided I was worth the danger. And I know you’re worried your dad is going to get out of surgery and walk away again, but your dad made the same choice you did. When he pulls through, he won’t be mad at you. You’re worth the nightmare that was tonight and so much more.”

I squeeze his arm and lay my cheek on his shoulder. Closing my eyes feels good, but I don’t want to sleep. It’s the early hours of the morning. Getting a bit of sleep now would be smart. Who knows how late we’ll be up by the time this night is over?

I just know, if I go to sleep, I’ll dream of everything that happened. Of Francia running at me, red-faced and screaming. I’ll dream of my father’s body hitting the tile floor. Of Alexander pointing a gun at Ivan’s chest.

I’ll see myself plunging the knife into Francia’s neck again and again.

I don’t say anything, but Ivan knows me too well. He can feel me tensing up, trying to protect myself from my own memories. He turns and kisses my forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“I killed someone tonight,” I whisper.

“You killed Francia.”

“Is there a difference?”

“The difference is that everyone who has ever known her will understand why you did it.”

I sigh. “I know she was awful, but… by killing her, am I any better than she was?”

All at once, Ivan’s shoulder is gone from under my head. But before I can tip sideways, he grabs my face. His thumbs are gentle as they brush along my cheekbones. “There is no comparison between you and her. You are worth a hundred of her. A million. Solnishka, you are not a bad person for protecting yourself against a crazy woman. You’re a Bratva queen. You did what had to be done.”

I shake my head. “Maybe one day, I’ll be able to hear those words and believe them. Until then, I might just need you to repeat them to me a lot.”

He smiles sadly. “I’ll say them as often as you need, Cora. If it helps, I love knowing you can be a little ruthless. It’s sexy.”

I arch a brow. For the first time in hours, a reluctant smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “Really? I’ll have to remember that.”

I’m still looking up at him, letting his smile thaw the ice in my veins, when I hear the door open.

News. It’s a nurse coming to tell us how the surgery is going. Maybe a doctor. Finally.

It feels like I move quickly, but the concussion slows things down. All I know is by the time I look towards the door and stand up…

My mother is standing in front of me.

I can’t make sense of what she’s doing here or how she found me. I just stare at her. Ivan is the first to say something. “Evaline, what are you—”

Before he can ask the question, my mother hauls back and slaps me.

My cheek stings, but the real pain is in my skull. It feels like my eyes are going to bulge out of my head. My teeth rattle together and I have to grab the arm of the chair next to me to keep from dropping to my knees.

Ivan grabs her and pushes her back, barking something at her about not laying a hand on me. But I don’t hear any of it.

Her eyes are red and puffy like she’s been crying. Mascara runs down her cheeks and her nose is running. She looks like she got thrown in a dryer on high speed.

What is she doing here?

I can’t make sense of it until my mom’s screams cut through the roar of blood in my ears.

“—have no idea what you’ve done, Cordelia! You killed him, but you ruined me, too! Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?”

I feel like I’m on stage for a play I haven’t rehearsed. And the play is in another language.

“I didn’t—” I shake my head, which is a mistake. My vision pixelates and I have to close my eyes until it settles. “I killed Francia. But she was attacking me. She was going to kill me. I didn’t have a choice.”

Ivan is still pushing my mother back, but she’s stretching onto her toes, talking over his shoulder and around his arm. “I don’t care about that little bitch; I’m talking about Alexander. You killed my husband and I’ll never forgive you.”

Oh. I’m not sure how I forgot. In all the chaos, Alexander’s death slipped through the cracks.

Probably because I have no regrets about it at all. I didn’t pull the trigger, but I know the world is a better place with him gone. Ivan did us all a favor. If he hadn’t shot him in the head, I would have. Gladly.