“Ana,” he says, serious, “There are things I need to tell you.”
“Oh?”
He looks grim. “I made a deal between our families. I’m sorry, because it traps you.”
My heartbeat speeds up nervously, and the monitor whines in response. A nurse comes in and says, “Oh, you’re awake,” interrupting the conversation.
She shoos Nik out of the room while she takes some vitals. He growls about it, but she seems unintimidated.
I close my eyes while she asks me questions about my level of pain. I’m told that I have a concussion, three broken ribs, a bruised solar plexus, broken bones in my cheek, and a laceration on the left side of my face. She shares that the doctor will visit at some point to discuss recovery and surgical options.
“Surgery?” I ask.
“Plastic surgery, hon, for your face.”
At my horrified expression, she chuckles. “No, it’s not that bad. The scar won’t be too bad, but there are bones broken in that cheek, and I’d think you’d want them out.”
“Oh,” I say. I can’t think of any other response.
After she leaves, Nik stalks back in.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks. “Do you need anything?”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you.” My gaze drifts to the ceiling for a moment before I finally look at him. “You’ve… been here all this time. Why?”
His mouth sets into a frown as he takes his seat next to the bed once more. “Because I…”
I blink, unsure if I should feel relief, irritation, or something in between. My survival instincts want me to push him away, to tell him to go, but I stay still, letting him gather his thoughts.
He exhales slowly, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond me. “When I was a kid, my parents were killed in the crossfire between two warring Russian families. My sister and I survived, and Lars took us in. He and Volya didn’t have children of their own, so they raised us as if we were theirs. To Misha, they are her parents.” His jaw tightens. “I was…angry. Very angry.”
“I can understand that,” I say quietly.
He lifts one shoulder in a faint shrug. “I think I told you he put me in hockey so I’d have an outlet. And I loved it. The sweat. The discipline. The brotherhood. The violence.” His gaze flickers to mine. “Leanna, I need you to know I’m not so different from your brother. I have darkness in me. I like the violence.”
He rubs his face with both hands and sighs, and for the first time, I see how tired he really is, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“How long have I been out?” I ask, if only to give him a moment to collect himself.
“A day or so,” he says. “I’ve lost track, honestly.”
“Why didn’t you go home and have a rest?”
His lips press into a thin line, then he nods. “I couldn’t leave you. I wanted to be here when you woke up.”
“What about my father?” I ask.
“He’s been in several times.”
“And he’s okay with you being here?”
He swallows. “Yes. When you disappeared, I came looking for you. When I found out you’d been taken… I nearly lost it. I was terrified. I kept imagining losing you. I couldn’t lose you.”
My stomach flips at the confession. He’d told me he cared before, but this lands differently. It feels like he means it.
“I never wanted relationships,” he says. “Early on, as I learned about the business from Lars, I liked how it engaged my darker urges, but I also saw how that world chews people up and uses them against each other. I never wanted to put someone I cared about into that.”
“I’m already exposed,” I say.
