75. Chapter 75

75

Dimitri

F ucking darkness. It's everywhere. Can't see shit, can't feel shit. Just this… nothingness.

Then BAM! A voice…

"Don't you fucking die on me."

"Don't you dare die on me."

Wren.

That fire in her voice, burning even here in this black pit.

My limbs feel like lead weights, my body a useless hunk of meat. I wanna reach out, grab onto Wren's words, use ‘em to haul myself back to the world of the living. But I can't fucking move. Can't speak. Can't even manage a goddamn blink. Stuck in this darkness, I'm trapped in my own head, hearing everything but unable to do shit about it.

"He's not going to fucking die!" another voice rumbles in. Luka , that son of a bitch. My brat . My Pakhan . "If he dies, you die with him. You understand me, doc?" Luka's voice is raw, like he's been shouting for hours. "I don't care if you have to sell your soul to the devil. You keep him alive."

" Da , Mr. Ivankov," yet another voice answers, tight with fear. "We're doing everything we can."

I try to focus on the voices, but they fade in and out like a bad radio signal. My brain's scrambled, can't string two thoughts together. But one thing's clear: I must be in deep shit for him to be here. Probably flew his ass all the way from Hawaii. Suka! I can't feel my body, can't even twitch a fucking finger. It's like I'm floating in a void, disconnected from everything but these voices.

Wren's voice again, softer now. Can't make out the words, but it's like she's right here, whispering in my ear. Suka , I need to wake up. Need to see her face. Need to see him.

My son.

The kid's face flashes in my mind. Wild hair, blue eyes that don't quit—just like mine. My son. My fucking boy. How the hell did she keep him from me all this time? I want to grab her, shake the truth out of her pretty little head. But mostly… I just want to hold her. Kiss her. Tell her I'm not ready to check out. Not now. Not when I've finally got something worth fighting for.

Get up, D. Get the fuck up. For Wren. For your son. For the family you never thought you'd have.

But the darkness… it's got other plans. It's pulling me down, deeper and deeper. Like quicksand; the more I struggle, the faster I sink.

I hear machines beeping, voices shouting. Someone's pounding on my chest. Each hit sends a jolt through me, but it's distant, like it's happening to someone else.

"Clear!" a voice shouts.

My body arches up, electricity coursing through me. For a second, just a fucking second, I see a light. Bright as the sun, blinding me. And in that light…

I see her. Wren. She's holding the kid, both of them reaching out to me. Their faces… Fuck, they're beautiful. Perfect. Everything I never knew I wanted.

I try to move toward them, but the darkness is back. Clawing at me, dragging me down.

No! Not yet! I'm not done! I've got shit to do, people to protect!

I fight it with everything I've got. Throwing punches at the void, kicking and screaming in my mind. But it's like trying to fight smoke. There's nothing to grab onto, nothing to hit.

The beeping gets louder, faster. I hear Wren screaming my name. Luka cursing up a storm. The doctors shouting orders.

And then…

Silence.

Complete and utter fucking silence.

Am I dead? Is this it? The big nothing everyone's so afraid of?

But wait… there's something. A rhythm. Faint at first, then stronger.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

My heart. The stubborn bastard's still going.

I feel a warmth on my hand. Soft, familiar. Wren's touch. And suddenly, I know.

I'm coming back. I'm going to open my eyes, see her face, hold my son.

Blyat , I'm going to live.

I want to live.

But as I claw my way back to consciousness, my entire body goes rigid. It's like someone's dumped a bucket of ice water down my spine. That survival instinct that's kept my ass alive all these years? It's firing on all cylinders.

The darkness shifts, and suddenly, I'm standing in the middle of a room.

The coppery taste of fear floods my mouth, my heart kicking into overdrive. Something's coming. Something fucking bad.

The stench of blood is thick in the air . My heart hammers in my chest.

Wren's voice is gone. Luka's, too.

It's just me now.

No, wait. Yob tvoyu mat' , I'm not alone.

A face. Grinning at me from the shadows. Faces I thought I'd never see again.

Elena. She's standing there, eyes wild, mouth twisted into that sick grin of hers, blood dripping from her fingers. She's holding something. No, someone. My gut twists as I realize it's Wren. Her throat slit, blood pouring out, soaking the floor beneath her feet.

No. Fuck No.

I try to move, but my feet are stuck. Can't move. Can't scream. All I can do is watch as Zimniy steps out of the shadows, his face a twisted mask of triumph. His hand moves to Wren's hair, yanking her head back, and her lifeless eyes meet mine.

"You can't protect them, D," Elena hisses. "Not her. Not your son. You've already lost."

I scream. I roar, rage tearing through me, but it's like I'm underwater. My fists slam against nothing. Wren's body drops to the floor, limp. Then Zimniy steps forward, his eyes locking on me, and everything I love dies right in front of me.

I can't save them. I can't—

The ground beneath me shifts suddenly. It cracks open like the floor's falling away. My vision blurs, twisting around me. It's like being yanked backward, hard and fast, out of the nightmare. I'm tumbling through shadows, spinning violently until—

Cold.

Wet.

What the fuck? Govno, my face… it's wet.

The nightmare vanishes, and I'm back. Sort of. I feel it. Dampness. Like something cold and wet is dripping onto my skin.

I fight the darkness, pushing against the weight that's crushing me. I need to get out of here . I need to see her.

Then it happens. My eyelids twitch. Just a crack, but enough to let in the light. Everything's blurry, like I'm swimming in fog, but there's something… no, someone staring down at me.

"D!!"

I blink hard, my vision starting to clear, and there she is. Wren. Her beautiful brown eyes, wide and full of tears, staring right into mine.

It's real.

This is real.

She's here.

Her face hovers above me, eyes wide, full of tears, and for a second, I think I'm still dreaming. But then, she moves.

"Oh, my God. D!!"

Her voice cracks, but the relief there is real, raw, and it hits me harder than the bullets did. She's here. I try to smile, but my body's not cooperating. Everything aches, but not enough to stop me from feeling it—the way my chest swells just looking at her.

She's staring at me like I've come back from the dead, which, I guess, I have. I manage to blink, just barely, and that's when it happens.

Her relief turns to anger.

Her brows slam together, deep lines cutting across her forehead, and her eyebags, darker than I've ever seen them, only make her look more beautiful. Fuck, she's exhausted. Her hands come up, and before I can even process it— smack —she slaps me. Hard.

"You fucking asshole!" she growls, and before I can get a word out, smack —another slap.

"Ouch," I manage to grunt.

"Do you have any idea what you put me through?!" She's ranting now, her eyes wild. Her hands flying—not gentle. She's mad, pissed, but it's not anger, not really. It's something deeper.

I want to laugh. God, I want to laugh so bad, but everything fucking hurts. My ribs scream in protest, my muscles tight, every breath feels like a knife in my side, but I still can't stop staring at her.

"Wren…" I croak out, but she doesn't stop.

"I thought you were dead, you stupid fucking— ugh! " Another slap, soft this time, but still enough to sting. She's panting now, her face flushed, eyes sparkling with fury and something else.

"Let me get the doctor," she says, her voice shaky, still caught between relief and panic. She steps back, looking like she might run to grab the doctor, her head snapping toward the door, but I can't let her go.

Not now. Not ever again.

"Wait…" My voice is hoarse, barely there, but enough to stop her.

Her eyes flick back to me, torn, her body still shifting toward the door.

With every bit of strength I can muster, I reach out, my hand shaky, weak. My fingers barely brush her wrist, but I get her. I hold on.

She looks down at me, shocked, her mouth slightly open, and I squeeze. I'm not letting go.

"Stay…" My voice comes out rough, barely a whisper, but it's enough. Her eyes soften, her body stills. She looks at my hand on her wrist, and I can see the battle in her eyes. She wants to run, to get help, to fix me. But she doesn't. Not yet.

I swallow hard, forcing the words out, my grip tightening. "I'm… not… letting you go. Ever. "