Chapter 153 153

Chapter 153 153
Until I do.

I pull the trigger. Once, twice, three times—until the clicks come up empty.

There’s a quiet moment of surprise in him. As if he thinks I might have shot him full of blanks instead of lead. Desya looks down at his own chest, touches the gaping wounds I’ve put there. His palm comes away wet.

Then he’s falling into the water.

I’ve seen people die before. In my line of work, we lose patients every day. Patients who don’t get to us in time, with conditions too far advanced for us to do anything. You fight it with all you’ve got, but there’s nothing you can do. It’s frustrating; it’s heartbreaking.

I never thought I’d do that to a person.

But tonight, I did.

Not for my kids. Not for myself. For the man I love.

Desya Bogdanov’s body disappears into the water. Bubbles break the surface, first an army, then a trickle. Soon, everything’s still again, the bay as silent as the grave.

I look for regret, but there is none. There’s no regret at all.

53

MIA

It takes hours for Yulian to wake up.

I don’t leave his side for a second. How could I bring myself to? Every function in my body seems to have put itself on hold just so I can keep watching the rise and fall of his chest, making sure it’s still there.

That he’s still here.

I wanted to take him to the hospital. It was my first instinct—but then I remembered. Prizrak. Ghosts who can access every building, slip into every place, masquerade as any member of the staff. The closest hospital to us was Manhattan General, and I’ve only been there once. I don’t know the people there. I don’t know their faces.

So I brought him home instead.

I grabbed the stuff we used for Nik’s recovery and got to work. Gave him a transfusion of my own blood—perks of being a universal donor; Team O-Neg for life, baby—and disinfected his shoulder. A clean exit wound, thank goodness.

Soon, Yulian’s vitals started to improve. His cheeks regained some color. I was terrified they’d only grow paler and paler, until there was nothing left of him, but he’s made of stronger stuff than that. And maybe, just a little bit, I actually know what I’m doing here.

Now, as I swap out the blood for antibiotics and painkillers, I let myself breathe for the first time since dinner.

He’s safe. He’s really safe.

I let myself move then. I take an iron supplement for the baby’s sake and rehydrate my body with sugar water. Pregnant people really shouldn’t give blood, but I’m a nurse. I can tell how much it’s safe.

And there was no way in hell I was letting Yulian die.

I sit back down at his side. The minutes tick by, turn into hours. I have no idea how much time passes before he stirs.

“Hey.” I grab his hand and squeeze it like a lifeline. “I’m here.”

Yulian’s gaze is unfocused at first, but then zeroes in on me. “Hey,” he rasps.

I want to break down crying. Want to bury my head in his chest and sob, but that’s not what he needs from me now. He needs me to be strong—to carry this for both of us.

He looks around. “Where are the others?”

“Maksim got out of surgery an hour ago. Kallie called in a favor with Adams, got him to operate in secret. It went well.” I give him a soft smile. “Kazimir’s unharmed, too.”

I can see the tension rolling off his shoulders. “Good.” He exhales. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now.”

“I always worry about you.”

He sounds so sincere, it nearly breaks me. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “That sounds about right. But hey—you should see the other guy.”

Yulian falls silent. Suddenly, I remember who the other guy is and what I’ve done to him.

I killed him. I killed a man.

I broke my oath, and now, someone’s dead because of me.

Guilt drowns me. The words rush out before I can stop them. “I’m sorry.”

Yulian blinks. “You’re apologizing.”

“He was your friend,” I croak. “Even if he’d done things, he—he was still your friend. Once.”

Yulian’s gaze bores into me for a long time. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I wish he’d say something, anything.

Then he starts sitting up. “No, wait!” I blurt. “You shouldn’t⁠—”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.”

It’s my turn to blink.

Yulian takes both my hands. His body heat seeps into me. I have no idea how he can be so warm, not after all the blood he’s lost, but somehow, he is. And he’s giving it all to me.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. It sounds so foreign, that word on his tongue. Yulian Lozhkin doesn’t do apologies. “For lying to you. And for everything I’ve put you through.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last year.” He gives me an intense look. “I’ve been trying to make it up to you. To change for you. But I never apologized to you, and that should have been the first thing.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shake my head. “It’s in the past. It’s⁠—”

“It’s not,” he cuts me off, though not unkindly. “Not as long as I refuse to acknowledge it.”

“Yulian—”

“After my family died, I locked myself up. Shut down every emotion. I didn’t…” He takes a breath before continuing. “I didn’t want to feel that way again. Lost. Alone.”

My heart breaks for him. He never told me any of this, not in so many words, but I’d learned to read between the lines. Thought it was too painful to talk about.

But he’s doing it now. For me.

It means everything.

“I spent the next twenty years going through life without looking back.” His tone hardens at the memory. “Thought that, if I did, it’d be over. I wouldn’t be able to keep moving. But you can’t keep your heart locked away forever. Occasionally, a stray feeling would come out. Those brief bursts you saw…” He swallows. “That’s what they were.”

The hot flashes. The ice mask. Suddenly, every piece starts clicking into place. Every emotion Yulian’s ever repressed—it never really went away, did it? All the rage, the pain, the heartbreak. It needed somewhere to go.

“I don’t like talking about it.” His gaze turns dark for a second. “I’m the pakhan. Having a heart… In this line of work, that’s the worst thing you can do.”

“Everyone has a heart,” I protest.

“I know.” He swallows thickly. “Someone recently helped me realize that.”

He lifts his hand to my cheek. My own heart is pounding, trying to burst right out of its cage.

“It took a little repetition,” he murmurs. “Took seeing it over and over to believe it. Maksim and Kallie. Anton and Zhenya. Kazimir and the Lozhkin Bratva. There isn’t just one form of love or devotion.” He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. It makes me shiver all over. “But the one who taught me the most is you.”

Tears start gathering at the corners of my eyes. “Me?”

“You.” He starts lifting off, one kiss for each name. “With Eli. Kallie. Reese. Nik. Your parents, your sister. Our baby.” He lifts his burning gaze to mine. “And with me.”