His head snaps with the punch. He gasps, trying to lift himself, eyes searching for mine in the dark. “You’re next, Vitya…” His voice breaks. “Don't let him take the seat. Don't let him take the family.”
Another blow. His face hits the stone floor. Blood smears the concrete in a streak. “Father!”
His fingers reach for me, trembling, scratching at the stone. “You…”
“Father!”
I open my eyes on a rattling breath. Father’s gone. The basement’s gone. My knuckles claw at the silk sheets. My head throbs and my throat is sand.
“Viktor. Hey. You’re okay.”
Jonah is in the chair, reaching for me. His eyes are wide. Glassy. He looks like he hasn't slept in years.
“Water,” I rasp. My voice sounds like swallowed glass.
He scrambles for the glass. He slides a cold palm under my head to tip the rim. The water is sharp. Freezing. It cuts through the bitterness coating my tongue—the ghost of Sergei’s sedatives. The liquid burns down my throat, the only honest thing I’ve felt since the street. I drink until the glass is empty, my pulse finally slowing. “Slow. You scared everyone.”
Everyone?
I take another mouthful. The shaking in my hands eases. The pounding in my skull dulls to a throb. My chest still hurts, but the pain is further away now, a threat instead of a blow. I can feel the damage in my ribs, a heat that reminds me how close I came to the ground.
“Doctor said they gave you something for the pain,” Jonah says, his voice a steady anchor. “And something to steady your heart. She said you’d feel clearer once you woke up and drank. She said you were strong.”
I press my palms into the mattress and test my arms. They hold. Whatever they put in me is still there, slow in my veins, warm enough to blunt the agony. It’s keeping me upright. I look around the room. I’m in my bedroom. The curtains are drawn. The air smells of wood and Jonah’s soap.
Jonah looks down at his sweatshirt. He pinches the fabric, looking at the stains. “Okay. You’re awake.” He exhales. “I’m going to take a shower. I feel gross. I need the smell of that house off me.”
“I want a shower too.”
The words come out before I think. The idea of waking up alone puts something cold under my skin. I won't let him leave the room. Not after I saw the shadows take my father. Not after I almost lost the light.
Jonah hesitates. “Are you sure? You just woke up. Your legs might not hold you. I could get you something to eat instead. Maybe some broth.”
“How long?” I need the timeline back.
“Since we escaped?” He swallows. “A little over a day. Your brother has been a wreck. He’s been pacing the hall. And Nikolai.” His mouth tightens. “He’s… a lot. He almost took the door off the hinges an hour ago.”
Yeah. Lev. And Nikolai. I look at Jonah’s fingers circling my pulse. I notice the dried blood on his skin—rust-colored. Flaking. He follows my gaze, eyes filling with raw emotion. “It’s yours. It wouldn't come off.”
I realize then that while I was fighting shadows in my head, Jonah was sitting in a silent room with the blood of a Morozov on his hands. He’s not just a nurse. He’s the person who dragged my body through the blood in that hallway. I look at his face and see a hard edge. I did that to him.
The sight loosens something in my chest. He stayed like that, slumped in a chair with my blood drying on his skin, waiting for the dead to wake up.
“Come here.”
He hesitates. “You should rest, Viktor. The doctor said.”
“Jonah. Come here.”
He lets out a shaky breath and climbs onto the bed beside me, moving with care to avoid my side. I grab his hoodie and pull. He falls half onto me, bracing a grip beside my shoulder so he doesn't crush my ribs.
“Viktor.”
“Better.”
I bury my face against his neck, breathing him in. The nightmare recedes, replaced by his heat.
I kiss him. It’s clumsy because my lips are dry, but none of it matters. His mouth opens under mine and the taste of him hits me. Toothpaste, sleep, and the edge of fear. He makes a broken sound that lands in my chest while his fingers curve into my shoulder. I grip his jaw, angling his mouth. The heat of him overrides the sedative. My blood feels like it's finally moving again. He kisses me back like he’s finally allowed to breathe air instead of ash.
