“He’s coming. I already sent word.” Luka’s hand stays firm on my shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, Sima,” he says again, quieter this time. “I promise. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I close my eyes and force myself to believe it.
34
PETYR
Misha looks like hell, but less so than before.
The last time I saw him, he was still half-dead. Wired up, pale as marble, his pulse barely noticeable. Now, at least, he’s upright in bed, a thin blanket pulled to his waist, and the faintest trace of color has made its way back in his face.
His doctor calls it progress. I call it being a lucky bastard.
When I walk into his room, Misha struggles up. “You didn’t have to come.” If he didn’t sound like a truck ran over his throat, I’d almost believe him.
“Don’t start,” I say. “You’d do the same for me.”
A ghost of a smile pulls at his mouth. “Maybe. If I liked you more.” His voice cracks halfway through, and he grimaces like the effort alone costs him.
I drag a chair closer to the bedside. “You sound like shit.”
“I feel worse.” Misha shifts against the pillows. His skin has that waxy sheen that means the fever still comes and goes. “That doctor you sent me said I’ll make a full recovery.”
“Doctors said the same about my brother,” I reply before I can stop myself. “But in your case, it looks like it’ll be true.”
He doesn’t call me out for my lack of tact. Just nods. “I’ve heard good things about Dimitri. He didn’t deserve the lot he got.”
“Neither did you.”
“I kind of went looking for it.” He gives me a sly smirk. “They told me doing business with you would be risky.”
“And you still went for it?”
“Are you kidding? It was the best advertisement you could get. Of course I went for it.”
I shake my head and fight the smile. Misha’s the one in a hospital gown, but somehow, he’s still got more balls than half my men combined.
My thoughts shift to Dimitri. He was supposed to be the one sitting here, not me. He’d been groomed for leadership since we were kids, taught to keep the empire running, to be untouchable.
But when he fell, everything changed.
He sunk into that coma for so long. There was no time to wait for miracles. The war with the Danilos didn’t stop just because my brother was lying in a hospital bed.
So I stepped in. Someone had to. To keep the Bratva running and to make those bastards pay.
Now, I wonder what he’d say about it. I’ve been wondering more and more. It’s part of the reason I haven’t gone to see him yet. If he were to look me in the eye and call me a traitor, a thief, I don’t know if I’d survive it.
Misha takes a shaky breath. “How reliable is that surgeon of yours?”
“Very.”
“She thinks that my recovery could take weeks. Maybe months. I can’t afford that.”
I lean back and cross my arms. “You can’t rush healing.”
“In our world?” He gives me a pointed look. “There’s no time for patience. Every day I’m stuck here, I’m falling behind.”
He’s right. I know it. Time is a luxury none of us have. The second you show weakness, someone starts sharpening their knife.
