I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, my legs unable to hold me up anymore. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving me shaky and weak and suddenly, horribly nauseous again.
“My father,” I whisper. “Did you see?—”
“He was running for the exit last I saw,” Dimitri says flatly. “Guess saving himself was the priority.”
The words shouldn’t hurt or surprise me, but they do. Of course my father ran. Of course he didn’t check on me or try to protect me or care if I lived or died.
Why would he? He already traded me away.
I press my face into my knees, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to break free. Iwon’tcry. Iwon’tbreak down. Not here. Not in front of Dimitri.
“Hey.” His voice is closer. I look up to find him crouched in front of me, his expression unreadable in the red emergency lighting. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head.
“Are you sure? Check yourself. Sometimes you don’t feel injuries right away when the adrenaline is high.”
I do a mental inventory. Bruised knees and bruised ribs from where he slammed into me. But nothing bleeding. Nothing broken. “I’m fine.”
He nods, then sits down beside me, still pressing his hand against his arm. The blood is seeping through his fingers. It looks worse than he’s letting on.
“You need to bandage that,” I say.
“Later.”
“Dimitri—”
“I said later.” His voice is sharp. Then, softer, “Just... sit still. Don’t move. Don’t do anything stupid.”
We sit in silence, the muffled sound of gunfire slowly dying away outside. Minutes tick by. Five. Ten. Twenty.
Finally, Dimitri’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out, reads something, then nods. “All clear. They’re gone.”
I exhale in relief. “Who was it?”
“Bratva, probably. Or someone else trying to sabotage the peace.” He stands, wincing slightly. “Either way, this just became significantly more complicated.”
He helps me up, his hand firm on my elbow, and we emerge from the panic room.
The conference room looks like a war zone. Bullet holes everywhere. Shattered glass. The conference table split down the middle. And blood. So,somuch blood.
Three guards are down—two Volkovs, one Ashford. Medics are already working on them. Everyone else is shouting, arguing, and pointing fingers. The Ashfords are blaming the Volkovs. The Volkovs are blaming the Ashfords. Complete chaos.
I stand in the middle of it, numb and disconnected, watching like it’s happening to someone else.
Because all I can think about is the moment Dimitri threw himself over me.
The man who hates my family. Who married me for revenge. Who makes my life a living hell every single day.
That man just saved my life without hesitation. Without thinking. Like it was instinct.
Like he couldn’t bear for me to be hurt.
“Vera.”
I blink, focusing on Dimitri. He’s standing in front of me, blood still seeping from his arm, his expression harder than granite.
“We’re leaving,” he says. “Now.”
