This is it,I realize. If I can’t block this, take the knife from her, I’ll be done. She’ll drive it into my gut.
I lunge for her wrist, when?—
CRASH!
Kira staggers. The knife slips from her hands. She stares ahead for a second, then two, like she can’t understand what just happened.
She touches the back of her head, and her hand comes away slick with blood.
We both turn. Behind her, Sima is panting, standing with an antique clock in hand. Heavy, wooden, the glass case now broken.
Kira frowns for one more second, and then she collapses on the floor.
I don’t stop to check if she’s still breathing. I just jump over her and rush to Sima.
“I told you to get the guards,” I say.
“I couldn’t leave you.” Her face is streaming with tears. She lets go of the antique clock, and it clatters to the ground, too. “I couldn’t lose you.”
I should be mad, but I get it. Fuck me, I get it. After tonight, I thought I was going to lose her, too. I know how that feels now.
But I never want to feel it again.
Without thinking, I crush her into my arms. Sima sobs, buries her face into my neck, her hands tight in my shirt. There’s blood on them, but I don’t care.
“Are you hurt?” I whisper.
“No.” She shakes her head. “But your arm?—”
“It’s nothing. It’ll heal.”
“You need a doctor.” She pulls back, eyes shining. “Please.”
I don’t protest again. If Sima never wants to feel like she’s going to lose me again, either, I can hardly blame her for it. “Okay. I’ll call for one.”
“Thank you.”
“But first…” I grab the phone with my good hand and call Luka. “Everything okay, boss?”
“I found Kira.” My gaze flicks to her body on the floor. Unconscious, or perhaps dead. “Come get her in the foyer. And bring me a doctor.”
I pocket my phone and turn back to Sima. I want to whisk her upstairs and give her a long bath, then tuck her close to me in bed. Never let her out of my sight again.
But there’s somewhere we have to be before that.
I walk her to the nursery. Anya’s eyes widen when she sees us, but Sima isn’t looking at her. She isn’t looking anywhere but at the crib.
She picks Lilia up and hugs her to her chest.
I wrap my good arm around them both and watch my wife and daughter until Sima’s shoulders have stopped shaking.
And I realize, finally, just how lucky I am.
64
SIMA
Lilia’s tiny fingers fuss at the bottle. She’s more interested in batting it away than actually drinking it.
