I spent twenty hours watching Fee drift in and out of consciousness while Eden monitored her vitals. During those hours, I told her I loved her, even when I wasn't sure she could hear me.
Her scent still clings to my shirt, jasmine shampoo, and beneath it, the wine-sweet warmth of her skin. I breathe it in as Ruslan settles into the passenger seat, his medical bag secured between his feet.
Six months I waited. Six months getting my head right, my heart ready, building a life where I could offer Fee something besides violence and late-night disappearances.
Then I finally asked her out.
Then, a boutique shooting, kidnapping, drugs, and a psychopath planning to reprogram her mind. I'm not superstitious, and I hope to God Fee isn't either, because if this were an omen, I'd be the worst fucking bet she ever made.
So here's what happens. I kill every threat, starting with Kirill. Then I take Fee on that date. It'll be somewhere elegant where the wine isn't followed by gunfire and the only thing I'm killing is time.
She made me want to live again. The moment I saw her, I knew. That fire in her eyes, that sharp mind, the way she doesn't flinch from who I am.
Kirill hurt her. Planned to destroy everything that makes her Fee. He'll suffer for it.
The leather steering wheel is cold under my grip. Fresh stitches pull along my left arm when I shift gears, a reminder of how close Kirill's knife came to my throat before I trapped his wrist.
"She's going to be fine," Ruslan says, breaking the silence.
I nod once, keeping my eyes on the dark road ahead. Rain taps against the windshield in an uneven rhythm, like nervous fingers drumming on a table.
"Anton." Ruslan's voice has that edge that means he's about to say something I won't like. "The drugs Kirill gave her, they're not just compliance drugs."
The tension spreads through my chest like dark mist through my veins. "What else?"
"They're part of a three-stage protocol. First, disorient; then rebuild; then bind. Eden found traces of specific compounds in her bloodwork."
"Speak plainly."
"He was going to reprogram her. Slowly. Until she believed whatever he told her to believe," Ruslan says.
"He was going to trap her inside her own mind. Make her a prisoner who couldn't escape." The leather steering wheel creaks under my grip. My vision narrows, darkens at the edges.
"Yes."
The world narrows to one clear thought.
"It's a good thing I didn't kill him on the dock. He's going to regret every second he spent planning this," I say. "How long would it have taken?" My voice sounds foreign even to me. Flat. Empty. The voice I use right before I pull the trigger.
"Full conditioning? Three weeks. Maybe four." He pauses. "She would have fought it at first. Every dose would have felt like drowning. But eventually, her brain would have rewired itself. Self-preservation. The mind protects itself by accepting the new reality."
"She would have believed anything he would have said? Do anything he asked from her?"
"Yes."
Kirill wanted to chemically lobotomize the woman I love until her brilliant mind became his puppet show. He doesn't get to die for that. He gets to suffer.
The wipers cut through the rain. The dashboard clock reads 7:13 PM. Hours of darkness ahead. Perfect.
The warehouse comes into view through the downpour, a hulking shadow against the bruised sky. I pull up to the gate and roll down the window. Cold night air hits my face, carrying the scent of industrial decay.
The guard recognizes me instantly. He nods and opens the gate without a word.
"Is everything in place?" I ask as we start moving into the abandoned warehouse's parking lot.
"Yes. Lorenzo has already started with Aleh. Dislocated every joint: shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, ankles. He looks like a rag doll. Then he broke what was left to break that wouldn't kill him. Methodical enough."
He shifts his medical bag. "After that, he used a car battery. Electrical burns across the chest, inner thighs, genitals. Lorenzo wanted him to feel pain like contractions. The current stopped his heart twice. I had to restart it." Ruslan's ice-blue eyes meet mine. "The compounds are keeping him conscious, but he won't last eighteen hours. Maybe twelve with that level of trauma."
