"Eden's treating him," Anton says softly. "He'll recover. Took two shots meant to wound, not kill."
I nod, trying to process, but my thoughts look like a kaleidoscope, every coherent thought breaking apart the moment I try to grasp it.
Ruslan appears beside us, his cold blue eyes assessing me clinically. "Let me look at her."
Anton hesitates, then nods. "Go ahead."
Ruslan kneels and gently tilts my face up. He checks my pupils with a small penlight, then takes my wrist between his fingers, counting silently. The way he touches me is so impersonal, so clinical, yet careful. It's strange seeing this terrifying man being gentle.
He pulls out his phone, speaks rapidly in Russian, then turns to Anton. "She needs fluids immediately."
Anton nods, looking at my father, whose hand grips mine tightly. "We need to get her to the hospital, to Eden."
Was Dad beside me all this time? His thumb brushes over my knuckles. It feels warm, real.
Ruslan is already opening a medical kit that one of the other guards just brought to him. "This first."
As Ruslan sanitizes a spot on my arm, I watch his methodical movements. "What did he give me?" I ask.
Ruslan exchanges a look with Anton before answering. "A compliance drug. Preparation. He likely planned to administer more substances later, to make you susceptible to suggestion. Brainwashing, essentially."
"That's why everything feels..." I struggle for words. "Distorted. Like I'm watching myself from outside."
"Yes. You may not remember everything that happens today," Ruslan says, sliding the needle into my vein with practiced precision. "Your perception is compromised."
I suddenly remember the weight in my hand. "The gun, Anton gave me a gun. Where did it go?"
Anton's brow furrows. His fingers brush my cheek. "I didn't give you a gun, love."
"But I felt it. It was cold."
"The drugs," Ruslan interrupts, taping the IV line to my arm. "They create false memories."
I feel dizzy again, uncertain what's real and what isn't.
"Are you coming with me?" I ask Anton as Ruslan starts packing his supplies.
"I'll take both of them, prepare them for you. Go with her now," Lorenzo tells Anton.
Anton's storm-gray eyes lock with Lorenzo's, something unspoken passing between them. His jaw ticks once before he gives a curt nod. He bends toward me, one arm sliding beneath my knees, the other cradling my back.
"I've got you," he murmurs, lifting me against his chest as effortlessly as picking up a fallen leaf.
As he carries me toward a waiting vehicle, I press my face against his neck, breathing him in, blood, sweat, gunpowder, and beneath it all, just Anton.
"Is this real?" I whisper again.
His lips brush my forehead. "This is real, Solnishko. I'm real. You're safe now."
I close my eyes, desperately hoping that when I open them again, he'll still be here.
Chapter 23
Drowning
Anton:
I left the hospital as gray dusk threatened rain.
