She clears her throat. Steps back, putting distance between us that feels wrong.
"Are you hungry?" she asks. "I'm having some of Amelia's soup. You should try it. It's really good."
I'm hungry. But not for food.
"Maybe later," I say.
"Where are Maksim and Zakhar?"
"Business dinner. Running late." She pulls her phone from her pocket, shows me a text from Maksim. Simple. Direct. Telling her not to wait up.
The fact that he texted her at all is proof enough. Maksim doesn't explain himself to anyone. Doesn't update people on his location or plans. The fact that he's doing it for Victoria means something has shifted in him.
Means he cares. More than he probably wants to admit.
"Let me get you some ice," Victoria says, already moving to the freezer.
She pulls out a bag of frozen peas. The kind of solution someone learns when they've dealt with injuries before.
Approaches me slowly. Lifts the bag to my face, positioning it carefully against my bruised cheekbone.
Her touch is so gentle it makes my chest ache.
We're close now. Too close. I can smell her, warm and intoxicating. Can see the flecks of gold in her dark eyes. Can count the individual lashes framing them.
"You should be careful," she says softly. Her free hand comes up, fingertips tracing the scar that bisects my left eyebrow. "Otherwise these fights are going to damage the only thing you have going for you."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Your pretty face."
Her finger continues its path along the scar. Feather-light. Grounding in a way nothing else has been tonight.
I close my eyes briefly. Let myself feel her touch without the noise of everything else.
"That one wasn't from a fight," I hear myself say.
Her hand stills. "No?"
"I was just a kid. Maybe seven." The words come out easier than they should. Like her touch has loosened something in me. "Had just been diagnosed with diabetes. Didn't know how to manage it yet. Insulin was hard to find."
I open my eyes. Meet hers.
"I fainted. Hit my head on concrete. Made this scar." I tap the mark she was just tracing. "Would have been worse if Zakharhadn't been there. He stopped the bleeding. When I came to, he kept me conscious until I stabilized. Saved my life that day."
Her expression softens. Something that looks like pain flickers across her face.
"There'd only be one devastatingly handsome man in this world if I'd died that day," I continue, trying to lighten the moment. "But you're lucky. There are still two of us." I wink at her, though it pulls at my bruised face.
"I'm so sorry you went through that," she says quietly.
I shrug. Try to make it casual. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? We had to fight cold and hunger and manage my condition all at once. It was tough. But it made us tougher."
The truth of it sits heavy between us.
"I don't know what I would have done without my brothers," I admit. "Zakhar and Maksim. They kept me alive."
"You're lucky to have each other," Victoria says.
