Dr. Petrov arrives within minutes—loyal, unshakable Dr. Petrov who’s seen me through worse than this. He takes one look at the gunshot wound and sighs.
“You know,” he says conversationally as he starts cutting away my jacket, “most men would go to a hospital for this.”
I roll my eyes. “Most men don’t have Konstantin Volkov trying to kill them,” I retort.
Dr. Petrov makes a noise of agreement. “Fair point.”
He cleans the wound with antiseptic that burns like hellfire. I don’t flinch as I’ve felt worse. Instead, I watch Vera watching me, her face pale but composed.
“The bullet went clean through,” Dr. Petrov announces. “There’s no bone damage. You’re very lucky.”
I think about the state of my life right now with my traitorous uncle and brother. “I don’t feel lucky.”
“You’re alive. That’s lucky enough.” He starts stitching. “This is going to hurt.”
It does, but again, I’ve had worse.
Vera moves closer, her hand finding mine. I squeeze it, grateful for the anchor.
“Antibiotics,” Dr. Petrov says when he’s finished, handing me a bottle. “Pain medication?—”
I wave him off. “I don’t need pain medication.”
“Of course you don’t.” He doesn’t even sound surprised, just resigned. “At least rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
I won’t. “I will,” I tell him. “Later.”
He knows I'm lying but doesn’t argue. Instead, he packs up his supplies and leaves with instructions to call if I start feeling worse.
The hours that follow blur together.
I spend them securing the estate with whatever men remain alive. Seven of my security team survived. Seven out offifteen. The math is brutal.
We deal with the bodies by bagging, documenting, and preparing them for removal. My men will be given proper funerals. Konstantin’s will be burned.
We fortify every entrance, change all the codes, and triple the guard rotations. By the time we’re finished, dawn is breaking outside the windows. Vera stayed with me through all of it. She refused to leave my side even when I ordered her to rest.
Finally,finally, everyone else is gone.
It’s just us in my office, the door locked. The world temporarily kept at bay.
We stand there looking at each other.
“We almost died,” Vera says quietly.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“But we didn’t,” she points out.
I nod. “No. We didn’t.”
She slowly crosses the room to me, like she’s afraid I might disappear and touches my chest, feeling my heart beat under her palm.
“I thought you were dead. When Alexei said Konstantin killed you, I thought—” Her voice breaks. “I thought I’d never see you again. And I realized I never told you?—”
She stops, struggling with words.
I cup her face with my good hand. “Tell me now,” I say roughly, my mouth dry with anticipation. “Tell me.”
