“Vitaly’s clean?”
“Vitaly’s clean.”
Elliot exhales, hands loosening on me. “And the body?”
“Three. Callum’s got Orion and Reid. They know what to do.”
He nods once.
“You should’ve called us,” he says, but it’s not anger anymore. It’s the concern underneath.
“I know,” I say. “I didn’t want to risk any of you.”
He cups my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. “You don’t get to make that choice alone anymore.”
“I didn’t make it alone,” I say softly. “I made it for us.”
He kisses between my eyebrows. Accepts it.
Noah’s got a warm cloth pressed to Vitaly’s face, hands delicate. “Oksana?”
“Same as Tammy. Better bat,” I say, wiping my hands on my skirt. “I got a poultry blessing.”
They don’t ask.
I fill them in anyway.
“Only you would bring a pink bat to a…” Elliot says.
“I don’t like guns,” I say. “They’re loud. And messy. And they don’t come in bubblegum.”
He clicks his tongue and picks at the bloodstain on my shirt. His eyes have that ready to scold me squint.
“They do come in bubblegum,” Vitaly says.
Elliot cuts a glance and smiles. “Let’s not arm her.”
“She’s got a temper with no safety.” Noah coaxes Vitaly down onto a stool.
Fuckers.
Rude.
But fair.
Noah’s fingers are so gentle on Vitaly’s face. Careful. Like he’s handling something precious.
“Does it hurt?” he asks softly.
“Only when I remember she had her hands on me,” Vitaly says. Then he looks at me. “Before Juliet.”
Noah glances over, sees the blood on my shirt, sees the satisfaction in my eyes, and something shifts in his expression.
Understanding. Pride.
“She’s okay?” Vitaly asks Noah. Not me.
Like he needs confirmation from someone who knows me as well as he does.
