“Why?” Vince asks, and I can see that his whole body is trembling with rage. “What is there to chat about? You’re choosingher, like you always do. You’re choosing to get in bed with Barkov, just likeshedid.”
“There’s a more efficient business solution to all of this,” my father says. “And I built this business through hard work and time and patience and yes, making hard decisions. And you’re forcing my hand here, son, but I’ll make this hard decision if I have to.”
My brother falls to his knees again, and now he’s openly weeping. He’s crying, and then I hear the metallic, eardrum-busting sound of a gunshot, and then he is slumping sideways to the floor.
There is absolute silence for a long moment.
My father walks forward, checks my brother, presumably for a pulse. But he is gone, one self-induced shot taking him out with far less misery than he just put me through.
A dark part of me wishes someone had put him through more pain. This seems like an easy way out for such a shitty human.
Someone approaches, and it’s a figure I would know anywhere, even concussed and half blind.
My father and he shake hands. They talk in hushed voices, then they both turn and come my way.
Nik kneels to cut the tie that binds my arms, and then my legs. I feel limp, boneless. He lifts me from the chair and holds me close.
“You’re going to be okay,” he says, kissing my head.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” My father says, again and again, holding my hand. “I didn’t know. I had no idea.”
And he sounds just like a father, worried about his daughter. And I realize with certainty that Nik is here with my father’s blessing. That he’s carrying me away with my father’s blessing.
My injured brain and body can’t sustain much more. I’m tired, so tired.
Everything goes black and peaceful.
When I come to again,it is to the antiseptic smell and the beeping of a hospital’s monitor.
I must move or twitch or moan because there is someone at my side immediately. Familiar, large hands enfold one of mine.
“Ana,” he breathes. “My Ana.”
I open my mouth, dry enough that dust might come out.
“Don’t talk,” Nik says. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
He reaches across my body and grabs a glass of water from the tray table. Holds the straw to my lips so I can take a sip. Puts the water back on the table before caressing my face gently.
With my non-swollen eye, I can see so much emotion in his face, but mostly worry.
“I’m…okay,” I rasp.
He looks away sharply, and I suspect he’s trying not to cry. It’s a funny thought, the idea of a man like him shedding tears over anything at all, especially me.
“I’m not,” he finally says. “I’m wrecked, Leanna. Seeing you like that, hurting, half-dead…”
He cuts off, swallowing hard. His hand is so tight around mine.
“My brother…asshole,” I say.
He huffs. “To say the very least. But he is gone now, by his own hand. But if it hadn’t been him, then it would have been me. I told you I would kill anyone who touched you.”
“Not…Trace.”
“Trace?” he asks, his face contorting comically in confusion. Then, “Oh, the nerd. Well, there is still time for him.”
“Nerd,” I say, laughing, but then wincing because it hurts my head and my cheek.
