I failed him. I failed Lily.
Fuck.
How did we miss it? How did we underestimate her?
I drag a hand down my face and scrub harder, like I can grind the grief out of the floorboards. Like I can punish myself into making it right.
My chest tightens, like I can’t breathe. Even when I force my lungs to work, all I see is Lev dying in my arms. I can’t run away from that. I can’t outfight it. I can’t outshoot it.
I suck in a deep breath and stop, my fingers trembling around the sponge, water dripping from my knuckles.
Focus on the good.
Lily is alive. Maria didn’t take her. I did what Lev told me to do. I did what he begged me to.
My heart splinters, and the tears finally fall. They’ve been threatening to since I stepped foot back in this house, but I’ve kept them locked down like everything else.
Until now. Until this hallway. Until this blood. Until the silence.
“Drago,” Lily whispers.
I don’t look at her.
I can’t.
I don’t want her to see my pain. I don’t want her to see the blood. I don’t want her to see that even monsters bleed on the inside.
“Go back downstairs, Lily,” I whisper, my voice rough. “Please.”
“No,” she replies simply.
One word.
No fear. No hesitation. No fucking leaving me.
And then she’s on the floor with me. “When you hurt,” she whispers, resting her head on my arm, “I hurt. Remember? And when you want to sit on the floor and cry, I’ll sit on the floor and cry with you, moy zashchitnik,” she tells me.
The way she says it makes my breath hitch.
“I failed him, Lily,” I choke out, staring at the smeared blood like it’s proof of my sins. “I brought him here to keep him safe… and instead he gets shot in my fucking hallway.”
“Hey.” She sits up and grabs my face, forcing me to look at her.
Her hands are warm. Her eyes are steady. Her expression is fierce in the way only someone who’s survived hell can be.
“You didn’t fail him, Drago,” she whispers. “He’s proud of you. You did everything you could.”
My jaw tightens. A tremor runs through me.
“If you left him in Russia,” she continues, voice firm, “he would’ve been dead weeks ago. You know that.”
I swallow, the lump in my throat too big. My hand drifts to my chest like I can physically hold my heart together.
“It fucking hurts, Lily. And it’s killing me that I can’t fix this.” I look up at the ceiling, blinking back the tears.
But she doesn’t let me hide.
“I know it does,” she whispers. “I know.” Her thumb strokes my cheek, catching a tear like it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
