Blood spatters across the concrete in abstract patterns that look almost beautiful if I squint.
A rifle barrel glints in the moonlight as Ruslan materializes beside Anton, his cold eyes fixed on Kirill's struggling form.
"Do you want to extend this somewhere else or finish him here?" Ruslan asks, his voice casual as if he's suggesting dinner plans rather than prolonged torture.
Anton's grip on Kirill doesn't falter. "We finish this my way."
A sickening crack cuts through the air, wet and organic, like celery being snapped. My head whips toward the sound before I can stop myself.
Lorenzo stands over his captive, the man's forearm bent at an impossible angle. Bone, stark white, jagged, punches through skin and fabric, glistening wetly in the harsh marina light. Blood pumps steadily from the wound, creating a widening pool beneath him.
The man doesn't scream. Just stares at his own exposed bone with detached fascination.
My stomach lurches violently. The gun trembles in my hand as my vision tunnels, darkening at the edges. I can't look away from that bone, so white against all that red—until the sharp crack of a rifle firing snaps me back to reality.
Ruslan, shooting at someone I can't see.
My stomach revolts. I drop to my knees, gun clattering to the deck as I hunch forward, breathing in desperate, ragged gulps. The world spins faster, sound warping around me. My body can't decide if it wants to vomit or pass out, so it tries for both simultaneously.
Warm hands cup my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with devastating gentleness.
"Fee. Fee, look at me." His voice cracks on my name. "You're here. You're safe. I've got you."
I force my eyes open, finding Anton kneeling before me. Blood streaks his face like war paint, but his eyes, God, his eyes are wrecked. Raw. Terrified in a way I've never seen. He's littered with cuts and forming bruises, but he's here. Alive.
"When you told me you loved me—" His voice breaks. "When Kirill had you, and you said those words through the comms, I couldn't... I love you so fucking much it terrifies me. I heard you say it while he was taking you away from me, and I couldn't say it back, couldn't let him know—" His forehead drops to mine. "But I need you to know. Right now. I love you, my Solnishko. I can't live without you."
I throw myself against him, arms wrapping around his neck so tightly I might be choking him, but I can't let go. Can't stop shaking. His heartbeat hammers against my chest, strong and steady and real.
His arms lock around me, feeling like he'll never let go. "I have you. You're safe now." The words repeat like a prayer, his face buried in my hair.
When he finally pulls back enough to see my face, his hands frame my jaw again, thumbs tracing my cheekbones like he's realizing I'm real.
Then his lips find mine, gentle despite everything. The kiss is featherlight, comforting rather than passionate. A promise, not a demand.
My head feels disconnected from my body as Anton holds me, like I'm floating six inches above myself. The world keeps shifting, everything too bright, too loud, then suddenly muffled and dim. The floor beneath me feels like it's breathing.
"Is this real?" I whisper, digging my fingers into Anton's arm to anchor myself. "Are you actually here?"
Anton's face tightens. "I'm here, Solnishko. I promise."
A figure looms over us, and I have to blink several times before the blurry shape solidifies into Lorenzo. I barely recognize him.
His perfectly styled hair sticks up in wild tufts, some strands matted with what looks like blood. His pristine white shirt is splattered with crimson droplets. But it's his face that terrifies me, contorted into something inhuman, eyes burning with such raw hatred that he looks like he crawled straight from hell's depths.
"They'll pay for what they did to you. For what they did to Moira. For what they tried to do to my child," Lorenzo tells me.
The baby? Wait—Moira? Oh God, Yuri?
My brain races to catch up, fragments of memories colliding like broken glass. The hospital. The lights going out. Yuri bleeding on the floor.
A wave of nausea hits me without warning. I hunch forward, my stomach heaving violently. Anton moves instantly, gathering my hair in one hand and pulling it away from my face as I vomit. His other hand rubs gentle circles on my back.
When the spasms finally subside, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "Moira...the baby...what happened?" My voice sounds strange, like I'm hearing it through water. "Did something happen while I was out?"
Lorenzo crouches down to my eye level, some of the demonic rage fading from his expression. "They're both fine, Fee. Eden has been with Moira the entire time. The contractions have stopped."
Relief washes through me, making my limbs tremble even more. "And Yuri?"
