One of the housekeepers slips into the room and quietly tells me that my father has left. I feel a pang of guilt shutting him out, but only nod in response. The knot in our relationship is something to worry about another day; it’s not as if we’ve been on the best of terms before this anyway.
When Michael finally leaves after checking that the bleeding hasn’t started up again, the room feels too quiet.
Kazimir watches me from the bed, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to come,” he says softly.
“Yes,” I reply, pulling a chair closer and sitting down. “I did.” It’s quiet for a while in a way that’s almost peaceful. He seems to have accepted that I’ll stay, but something keeps me stiff in the chair, conscious that I’m no longer playing a part by being at his side. “Has this happened before?” I ask softly.
Kaz shifts, not meeting my eyes. “Of course,” he murmurs grouchily. “You’ve always had opinions about what I do, who I am, Alyona, haven’t you? Before we even met. Think of the worst you can imagine, and I’ve done it. This isn’t the first time I’ve bled in this bed.”
There’s something to the confession that sounds almost bitter. But it’s honest. I hold my breath looking at him, imagining nights like this full of pain and stitches and loneliness.
“You’ve never wanted,” I ask hesitantly, “someone to be here through all of it?”
His eyes search mine in the shadows of the room, hand shifting on the sheets, though he doesn’t quite reach for me. And it takes everything in me to stay in the chair, to not kneel on thebed next to him and press my head to his chest just to make sure he’s still breathing.
“It would be horrible of me to subject someone to this.”
It’s the last response I expected. Laughter, maybe, at the idea of something more permanent with someone. After all, Kaz has made it clear that the very last thing he wants is someone to share this life.
So why did that sound like an apology?
For the first time since the fear took hold tonight, I let myself breathe. The house settles around us. Kaz slips into sleep reluctantly, fighting it the way only a mob boss could, and I sit there praying to gods I didn’t even think I believed in?—
Just a little longer.
Not yet.
Please.
Chapter 26
Kazimir
Istare at the faint seam in the ceiling where the plaster cracked years ago. I’m holding myself unnaturally still so I don’t wake the woman sprawled across me as if this isherbed, and not mine.
Alyona sleeps with reckless trust. One arm is draped over my chest, her palm warm and slack against my skin, her thigh thrown over mine in a way that would look possessive if she were conscious. Her hair brushes my jaw, throat, and shoulder. Every slow breath she takes presses her closer. A gap in the curtains lets early afternoon sunlight in; it makes her blonde hair sparkle, softening my annoyance.
The dull, persistent ache along my ribs reminds me I am still stitched together, still healing. Tightness in my shoulder complains every time I inhale too deeply. Not only did I manage to get shot, but I’ve wrenched a muscle badly. None of it matters as much as the fact that I cannot move.
If I move, she will wake.
If she wakes, she will insist that I don’t get up—despite the fact that it’s been days and the chess pieces have shifted. Nika and Liev are managing the men, following up on the intelligence we got from Hinto’s botched suicide job. They report it all to meover the phone. But like the slow-healing wound in my side, I’m itching to get back in the thick of it and hunt down the rat in the walls of my city.
The door opens quietly, the sound barely more than a change in air pressure, and Michael steps inside with the same unhurried confidence he always carries. He's a med-school dropout who caters to a handful of men like me. He’s paid a lot of money to keep quiet, and that contrasts with his uncaring attitude and slightly unkempt appearance. I don’t look at him, but I feel his attention immediately, and his pause as he takes in the scene.
“Well,” he says softly, professionally, though I can hear the amusement threading his voice. “That explains a few things. They said you haven’t been down yet today.”
I flick my eyes toward him without moving my head, trying for a glare. “If you wake her, I will choke you.”
He smiles openly at that and approaches the bed, careful not to jostle it. He checks the monitors first, then the bandages, his fingers practiced and light. Aly stirs when he adjusts the dressing along my ribs. Her fingers curl instinctively into the fabric of my unbuttoned shirt.
I stop breathing until she settles again.
Michael watches this exchange with fascination. “You’ve been awake a while,” he notes.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t call for assistance.”
