65. Natalia

65

NATALIA

The relief is stale by the time we get to the car.

Andrey wraps me in a blanket in the back of the Escalade, but I shove it aside, bolting up out of the seat. "Where's Katya?"

She was abducted by Nikolai. Or maybe it was Slavik. The fact I don't know does nothing to slow my racing heart. Bad guys morph into each other, into the shadows, stretching and melting and reforming again and again. I can't keep track of whose blood is on whose hands.

"Misha," I say again, the cry strangled in my throat. "Where is he? And Remi?"

Were they in the hospital room with me?

Does Nikolai still have them?

Are they alive?

"Aunt Annie…?" I croak, exhausted with this never-ending list.

Fear tugs at the back of my mind, pulling me deeper into a spiral I know I won't claw my way out of. Not this time.

This is too much. There's too much pain, too much fear. I'm alive, but there are too many people still left to lose.

I can feel the quicksand calling to me. The temptation to step into it and disappear has never been stronger.

Andrey wraps me in his arms and cradles me against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady drum in my ear. "Mila and Katya are waiting for you at the manor. They're excited to see you."

I cross their names off the list in my mind. They're okay.

"But Misha?—"

"Misha is at home taking care of Remi," he says with a dark chuckle. "That dog went down with a chunk of flesh in his teeth. Somewhere out there, someone is limping around with half a calf because that beast loves you so much."

Remi is alive.

Misha is safe.

"Aunt Annie," I breathe again, unable to believe I could be so lucky and she'll be safe, too.

Andrey smooths my hair away from my forehead and presses a kiss to my skin. "Annie is in the hospital. She's stable and doing better."

"She's still in danger, though," I whisper. "They came after her once. They'll do it again."

"That's why I'm moving her to a secure location," Andrey agrees. "A safehouse on the outskirts of the city that not even Viktor knows about. She'll have the best care and a private medical team on hand to monitor her every breath until she makes a full recovery."

I cross her name from the list, too.

And wait for the relief to hit me.

And wait.

And wait…

But there's nothing but emptiness.

Shura drives over a speed bump, and Andrey hisses under his breath. His hand presses to his hastily bandaged gunshot wound.

He acted like it was no worse than a mosquito bite—a mere annoyance, nothing more.

"What about you?" I press. "You need medical attention, too."

"The Bratva doctor is already on site. He'll tend to me when we get there." He gives me a bracing smile that I try hard to return.

Does he see through me?

For a moment, his face falls into hard lines, but then his hand drapes over my shoulders. "Don't worry, lastochka . This is nothing. A little scrape for the storybook, that's all."

The lie would be a lot more convincing if I didn't smell his blood. The metallic taint of it clings to his shirt, soaking through like a blooming red flower.

I turn away and press my hands to my stomach.

Our daughter kicks and flutters, a little reminder that I can't withdraw. No matter how much I want to shut this all off—no matter how much I hate that so many people were hurt because they were close to me—I have to keep going.

For her.

When we stop at the manor, Leif opens the door and Leonty moves forward to help me out. Andrey and Shura are there, too, like it might really take four men to get me inside.

But I root myself to the spot.

"Where's Anatoly and Olaf?"

All four of the brave, strong men go pale.

They shift nervously, glancing from me to each other, and my heart lodges in my throat.

Andrey steps up. "Natalia, let's get inside. Maybe now's not the time?—"

"Don't! Don't you dare fucking patronize me."

"Natalia—"

"Look me in the eye and tell me the truth. I deserve to know."

"'Drey," Shura mutters, "she's right. She deserves to know."

Andrey sighs. It might be the most vulnerability I've ever seen from him. Something in the darkness in his eyes and the exhausted slump of his shoulders.

"Olaf was injured, but he's going to be fine. He'll need bed rest for a few weeks, but otherwise, he'll make a full recovery."

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Leaving me to ask the question I know I don't want the answer to.

"And Anatoly?"

No one says anything.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

"It's not your fault," Andrey insists.

I turn to the house, my jaw clenched tight so it can't wobble. He's dead because of me. I don't deserve to cry.

Andrey grabs my arm and tries to guide me, but I tear my arm away.

I don't deserve his comfort.

"I want to see Remi," I demand weakly. "Take me there."

Andrey hesitates, so I make my way toward the infirmary, one slow, aching step at a time.

Inside, I find Misha sitting on a chair, chin slumped to his chest and snoring softly. His hand rests on Remi's head.

The boy looks exhausted.

The dog looks destroyed.

But both are breathing. Thank God.

Not wanting to wake them, I slip back out as quietly as I can, a grateful sob still caught in my throat.

Andrey is waiting in the hallway for me. "Come," he says softly. "You need a check-up, just to make sure everything's alright with the baby. The doctor is waiting."

I whirl around to face him. "You're the one who needs a doctor. You've been shot!"

"I'll get my wound checked once I've made sure you're okay."

One of his men is dead because of me, and he's worried whether I'm okay. Guilt claws at my chest. "I'm fine. Stop worrying about me!"

Easy, Nat. He's just trying to help.

I blow out a ragged breath and start over. "I won't be able to relax until you get that wound sorted out, Andrey. You're still bleeding."

He doesn't so much as glance down at the wound. "I want to be with you."

"I'm not letting you anywhere near me until you get yourself sorted out."

I won't lose him, too. I can't.

"Very well," he sighs, gesturing to a door farther down the hall. "Dr. Abdulov is right through that door. I'll get checked out and you can see Katya and Mila. They've been waiting for you."

Then, to my surprise, he bends down and kisses me softly on the lips.

It's too soft and tender for all the horrible things that have happened in the last few hours. I feel guilty for enjoying it. He's dripping with blood and Remi is a ragged mess of bandages in the other room and Misha looks like he hasn't slept in weeks and Annie is all by herself in the hospital and Anatoly is dead, he's fucking dead, for God's sake, and here I am, enjoying a kiss.

It's selfish.

It's wrong.

I pull away, feeling another wave of guilt for that, too.

There are no right choices anymore. I'm forever at an impossible crossroads, stuck looking at the paths "wrong" and "wronger."

"We're going to get through this, Natalia," he promises me, his hand floating towards the locket hanging against his chest.

I smile weakly and grab my own chain. I can't bring myself to say anything. If I do, I'll break.

So I just turn and walk away.