“My leg can wait ten minutes."
It’s a lot longer than ten minutes. The sound of beeping and crying and chaos echoes all around us. Semyon has checked in a couple of times, but he’s trying to figure out who lived and who died. Cops are everywhere. Thankfully, we’re left alone. It’s like the world forgot we were even there.
That’s a good thing. I don’t know who might be on Roman’s payroll. I know my father had a pretty good hold on the localpolice, but I have no idea if that relationship extends to me. There are going to be questions.
Semyon appears in the doorway, his face a mask of irritation despite the blood still caked on his temple. "You haven't been seen yet?"
"Couldn't get seen if I wanted to." I gesture at the chaos around us. "Place is packed. I'm not bleeding out. My injury is minor compared to half the people here."
He crosses his arms, looking unconvinced. "You were shot. Again."
"Flesh wound. The bullet went through." I shift my weight, trying not to wince. "I've had worse."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?" I'm getting irritated now. My leg throbs. My shoulder aches. Every breath tastes like smoke. "We've got bigger problems than my leg."
His expression shifts slightly. "Speaking of which—I've got the police situation handled."
I raise an eyebrow. "That was fast."
"Roman's men, the few that made it out alive, aren't going to be a problem." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "They're in critical condition. Very critical."
I understand immediately. "You have friends on staff."
"Several." He glances over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one's listening. "They'll die of their injuries. Tragic, really. Such a devastating explosion."
The coldness of it should bother me more than it does. But I'm too tired and too focused on keeping Kira safe to care about Roman's soldiers getting what they deserve.
"What about Roman himself?" I ask quietly. "Did he make it out?"
"No body yet. But the building's still too hot to search properly. Could be buried in the rubble." Semyon's jaw tightens. "Or he could have escaped before the main collapse."
"He was there. I saw him. Shot me in the leg and ran." The memory makes my blood boil. "Coward triggered the explosives and left his own men to die."
"Sounds like Roman." Semyon runs a hand through his hair, dislodging ash. "We'll know more in a few hours. I've got people watching the site, monitoring police radios. If they pull him out, we'll hear about it."
"And if they don't?"
"Then we assume he's alive until proven otherwise." His eyes meet mine. "Which means this isn't over."
I already knew that. He had an exit strategy. He always does.
"How many did we lose?" I force myself to ask.
"Four confirmed dead. Three more critical." His voice goes flat. "Leo didn't make it."
Leo, who'd survived four decades in the bratva and pledged his loyalty to me just days ago. Dead because I led him into a trap.
"Fuck." The word comes out hollow.
"He knew the risks. I need to take care of a few things. Get your ass in a room. We didn’t go through all of that to have you die in a waiting room.”
“I will,” I tell him.
Semyon leaves and were left waiting for another thirty minutes.
A doctor steps into the room, tablet in hand. He looks as exhausted as I feel. "Are you family of Nikolai Markov?"
