I reach across the table and take his hand.
The calluses under my fingers feel familiar now. The scars, the roughness. Bandages wrap his fingers from last night's glass, the white fabric already smudged.
"You're asking me to trust you," he says.
"I'm asking you to let me earn it." My thumb brushes against his knuckle. "However long it takes."
Silence settles between us, filled only with the sounds of birds and the soft slap of water against the dock.
Maksim studies our hands, as if trying to determine whether holding mine is a mistake.
Finally, he nods.
"Okay," he says. "We go back. We end it. Then we see what's left."
Relief washes over me, intense enough to sting my
eyes. I hadn't realized how much I needed him to say yes until he did.
I open my mouth to express something—perhaps gratitude—but then Maksim stiffens.
Not subtly. His entire body locks up, as if a switch has been flipped.
His eyes dart to the window, to the treeline.
"Ivan."
The way he says my name strips it of warmth, turning it into a warning.
"What—"
"Down."
He's already moving. His hand slips from mine, and he tackles me sideways off the stool. The floor slams up, and my shoulder crashes into the hardwood, pain flaring white hot.
Then the window shatters.
It's not a neat explosion; it bursts. Glass sprays across the room in a violent sheet. A rifle crack echoes through the cabin, reverberating off the lake like thunder. Wood splinters. Something whizzes past where my head was just a moment ago.
Maksim's body covers
mine, his weight pinning me to the floor, his shoulder pressing down on my chest.
"Stay down," he growls, an animalistic sound—protective.
Another shot rings out, this one striking the wall above us, showering dust onto my hair.
The morning is gone. The lake, the birds, the coffee—everything vanished.
We crawl.
Maksim drags us toward the kitchen, low and fast, using the island for cover. I keep my chest pressed to the floor, knowing what bullets can do to bone.
Our weapons lie where we left them.
That's my fault. I let the illusion of safety make me careless.
Maksim snatches his holster, secures it, and tosses me the backup pistol. I check the magazine: thumb, press, click.
