Petrov appears on our right. “Two down,” he says. “And they took one with them—dead or bleeding. East is clear. We should move before any locals call it in.”
“Already did,” Viktor says. He kneels, removes his vest, then peels off his tee. Shoving it into my hands, he says, “Press that on him. Hard.” He tips his chin at Dominik’s side, the gap between the front and back of the vest that was left unprotected.
“I—” I reach without thinking and pause because my hands are shaking.
Dominik unfastens his own vest to slip it off, then flips his jacket open. The shirt underneath is dark already. When I press the balled-up fabric into the wound, he inhales through his teeth quietly, giving away how much it truly hurts.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“You’re not fine,” I snap at him. “You were shot! You’re bleeding.” My voice is high with worry and fury, and I hate it. This is completely different from the last time he was bleeding, back when I busted his nose.
It hits me then. Dominik shielded me with his body. Not the vest he put on me, not the car, and not with a flimsy promise but with his own damn body.
The deal we made for my week, and my brother’s life, was supposed to make me feel purchased, like a disposable object, and instead I feel…kept.
“Archer,” I say, because I’m a fool who still hopes for the best. “Was he?—?”
“He wasn’t here.” Dominik’s gaze snaps to mine, cold now. “He sent them.”
The words land heavy on my heart.
“He sold you out,” I whisper.
“He sold out your location and your safety too,” Dominik says, and the edge of his voice startles me more than the gunfire did. “Which is why he’ll have to pay with something that hurts.”
“You said you’d let him live.”
Dominik’s hard, determined eyes find mine. “I said I would let him keep breathing as long as you held up your end of ourbargain.” The look in them does something to me that I don’t have a name for. “I don’t break my word.”
“And tonight?” My throat tightens. I thought by tonight that Archer would be safe.
He considers the question, blood soaking the cloth under my hands.
“Tonight,” he finally says, “you prove to me that I wasn’t a fool for trusting you too.”
His words shouldn’t warm me, but they do, glowing like a match held too close to my palm.
The breath that leaves me is shaky. I hate him for being an honorable mobster. I hate Archer for making his honor cost Dominik his blood.
What the hell was my brother thinking? Why has he done this to me?
“We need to move,” Viktor says, urgent but contained.
“Send thePakhanan update,” Dominik orders Viktor, referring to his brother by his official title.
“What should I tell him?” the bald man asks, looking from me to his boss. It’s a question that makes me think that these guys are loyal to Dominik, not Gavriil, which is somehow comforting.
“Everything,” Dominik answers, as if that’s the only option.
After that statement, his men surround us, hustling us back into the car.
“Keep pressure. You’re doing good,” Petrov tells me as he flanks my left.
I keep my hand firm over the wound while Dominik pretends to be steel. His lips are too pale. The lips I kissed last night before we traded promises and he made me scream his name. He’s not showing it, but I can feel his pain in the way his weight leans against my side when we hit the back seat.
The doors slam, and the vehicle speeds off. The driver throws us into reverse then spins us forward with a smoothness that tells me he’s had practice with high-speed chases.
“Route B,” Petrov says from the radio behind us. “Five minutes to the tunnel. No sirens yet, but they’re on their way.”
