Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Aria

I’m under a body.Someone’s heavy, steely body. And it’s not the body I like being under.

Liked.

LIKED.

I think whoever’s on top of me is unconscious. I blink, trying to piece together what happened, when a wave of panic shoots through me.

The baby. Is the baby okay? Oh my God.

The windows shattered, glass shards flying through the air like a deadly snowstorm. The noise was deafening, triggering alarms in the echo of the bomb’s explosion. The air is ripe with the acrid scent of gunpowder.

“Get off.” I try to push but it’s about as effective as trying to lift a small elephant. I look up to see Viktor’s scarred face. He’s still conscious, but there’s a large gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes.

He grunts and rolls over but grabs a weapon. I’ve never seen him grab a weapon before. If the fact that a bomb detonated isn’t enough of a clue that something’s terribly wrong, him grabbing a weapon absolutely is.

He grimaces with the effort of moving off of me. I don’t even remember how he got here. There must’ve been something that triggered an alarm and he only had seconds to shield me with his body before the detonation took full effect.

“Where is everyone? Is everyone okay?”

“Stay down,” he growls, pushing himself up. He’s wobbly on his feet. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course I do.”

He shoves one into my hand. “That bomb was a distraction and a way in. You’re in grave danger. Don’t pull any of your shit, Aria, you stay fucking there.”

I glare at him but hold the weapon anyway and give it a quick glance. You pull the trigger, right? My mind churns with questions and fears.

If I never hear the words “you’re in grave danger” again for the rest of my life, I’ll be a happy camper.

“Polina?” he calls out.

“I’m fine, Viktor. It’s Mom I’m worried about.” I look up to see Polina kneeling over her mother, a look of concern on her face. They’re handling this with such calm, it’s a little unnerving.

Ekaterina’s unconscious, her forehead streaked with blood.

Oh no.

I push up and feel a painful stab in my abdomen. Stricken, I put my hand to my belly. Polina looks about as terrified as I feel. “You fell,” she says, even as she holds her mother’s wrist between her fingers. “Did you hit your head? Are you in pain?”

Gunshots ring out. Viktor’s on his feet. I look up to see the entire wall between us and the hallway’s been demolished. Even though there’s still a ceiling over us, there are gaping holes in the roof overhead.

I can’t even figure out who’s where because of the debris and smoke in the air.

Smoke?

“I have a pulse,” Polina says, blowing out a breath. “Thank God.”

Gunshots ring out again, and again. My hand trembles on my weapon. Will I be able to use it if I need to?

“They’re here for you,” Viktor says in a harsh whisper. “We need to hide you.”

He looks around the room, his keen eyes taking everything in. With one quick movement, he yanks down the desk, shoves everything onto the floor, and pulls it so the top forms a barrier between me and the doorway. It’s fruitless, though, because there’s no safety at my back. Still, it’s something. “Get down,” he orders, grabbing me and pulling me down.

Another gunshot rings out. Another.

“Viktor!” Polina screams, as an armed man in all black, wearing a face covering, walks into the room holding a huge gun. Viktor’s faster than he is, though, and he pulls his trigger, just as a second assailant comes in through the broken wall. I scream and pull the trigger of my own gun, unprepared for the way it bucks against my shoulder. I miss by a mile.

“You said you could fucking shoot.”

“God, I lied, alright?”

“Don’t shoot again, you’re likely to kill someone and not the ones we want.”

He isn’t wrong.

But we’re outnumbered and we can’t hold them off for long.

I hear the sound of screeching tires. The boom of a car door. Multiple weapons — machine guns? — being fired.

Someone screams something in Russian, and Polina and Viktor’s heads whip to the open gash in the wall. They share a look as our assailants retreat. They look…they look like they’re running for their lives.

Viktor won’t leave my side. He has me shoved behind this broken desk, wielding his gun in one hand, when something hits me on the back of the head. I scream, and on instinct swing the gun I’m still carrying. It connects with the head of another man dressed in black just as I hear a roar behind me.

Mikhail launches himself at my assailant. I cringe at the animalistic shriek of sheer terror my assailant releases seconds before Mikhail’s got him in his grip. He lifts him bodily with both hands and throws him against the wall. The man’s body crumples against it and slumps to the ground, but unfortunately for him, he’s still conscious.

Mikhail grabs the broken drawer from the desk and slams it over his knee, takes the wooden plank, and whacks my assailant with it. Over and over he hits him while the man cries for mercy. I cringe when he kicks his ribcage but can’t look away. The human body when under attack is so much more fragile than one might think.

He beats him until the man begs for death. He holds his head between his hands when Viktor shouts out, “Don’t kill him. Not yet. We need answers.”

Mikhail chokes the man out until he slumps to the ground.

He’s covered in the blood of another man, drenched in sweat from the effort of the beating he administered, but there’s nothing but concern in his eyes when he reaches for me. He kneels on one knee and gently grabs my chin, forcing my gaze to his.

“Are you hurt, my love?”

No, you can’t, I want to tell him. Please don’t call me that, not now.

“I don’t know. I was unconscious. I – I felt a pain in my belly, Mikhail.” My voice quavers. I reach my hand to his. He strokes his thumb against my chin, and I’m confident he’s smearing blood on me, but I don’t care.

Someone screams in the background amidst the sound of more gunshots, and I hear a phrase in Russian that chills me.

Sibirskiy tigr.

I hate that I want nothing but to go to him. I try to remind myself why I’m angry, why only a short while ago I began the process of getting past their security system so I could make my escape. But now that he’s here? Now that I’m afraid that our baby could be harmed? There’s no one else I want but my husband.

I didn’t know a human could hold such conflicting emotions at the same time. I can’t even begin to sort through the feelings of repulsion at the utter, unapologetic violence I just witnessed, relief at his tender concern for me, and a whole bunch of other emotions I haven’t begun to sort through yet.

“We’ll get you to the hospital.” It makes me nauseous to see blood streaked across his white tee and know it isn’t his. He beat a man to the point of almost death…for me. I should be more troubled by that than I am.

Viktor watches, standing guard against any other attacks.

“Polina?” he says.

“Mom’s pulse is faint. She’s alright. We need to get both of them to a hospital immediately.”

Mikhail holds me to him and stands with me held tightly against his chest. He leans in and kisses me. I almost turn away, but at the last second…I let him.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he whispers in my ear. “But know that you are mine and that I love you.”

The rest of what I wanted to say fades. I can’t even remember why I’m upset with him anymore.

You are mine and I love you.

It might be the only thing that can sustain me through what I have to go through next.