Staring at him as Claire rushed to reveal his skin littered with cuts and wounds, I swallowed hard and swore it just couldn’t be true.
I couldn’t bear the idea of losing my first love when Fitz died.
I couldn’t stomach the possibility of losing my new love, either. Sergei. I wanted him to be my last love, my man to grow old with as we watched Maisie through her life.
Any trace of hatred evaporated as I watched Claire frown at the vitals on the panel.
My grudge waned in the face of this love I couldn’t hide from.
This show of the ultimate sacrifice with Sergei being so selfless to risk his life for my daughter’s.
Please, Sergei.
You have to live.
I love you.
Unaware that I let out a loud gasp, tearing up with the need to cry all over again, I blinked at Mikahil approaching me. Andre was jumping in to help Claire as she ordered someone to hand her something else.
“Maybe it would be best to wait in the other room,” the boss told me. His serious expression was full of sympathy but also the logic only a leader in charge could manage.
He dipped his chin, gesturing at Maisie as she continued to cry.
The concept of sparing her from any more trauma was smart. I had him to thank for that consideration, but as I let him guide me out of the room, carrying my daughter from the scene of surgery and first-aid, I prayed that this wouldn’t be the very last I’d ever see of the man I loved. The man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
35
SERGEI
Exhaustion weighed me down. I felt like I could sleep for another hour. Another day. A week.
I couldn’t recall the last time I’d experienced this tiredness, fatigued all the way down to my bones.
Despite passing out on the ride after I got Maisie away from the Popovs, I remembered everything that led up to the moment I couldn’t stay awake.
The hours of frantically searching for her. All the anxiety of fighting so many enemies. And the endless worry that I’d fail Natalie.
I hadn’t. I hadn’t failed anyone. I pulled through and found Maisie just in time. I got there and stopped a bullet from reaching her. And I would never, ever forget the sweetness of her hugging me. That bliss of relief after I cut her gag off in that disgusting warehouse by the docks where she hugged me like she’d never want to let go.
Lying on my back, I breathed easy and knew that I was under good care now. I was likely at the private clinic that Claire managed in my uncle’s building. Not in a hospital where Claire had stepped in to stop Popovs from looking for me while I was out for surgery before. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose, serving as the biggest clue that I had been stitched up.
Saved and mended.
Alive and surviving to fight another day.
Opening my eyes slowly, I took stock of who was nursing me with gentle presses on my skin.
My heart swelled and raced at the sight of Natalie seated next to the bed. Looking calm and patient, she kept her gaze lowered as she focused on rubbing ointment over a large scrape on my forearm. It wasn’t the worst of my injuries. Whatever Claire had done to the two bullets I’d taken—one in the leg and the other on my side—had worked. Or she’d given me some decent drugs to take the edge off the pain.
Marveling at how Natalie could be so lost in her thoughts as she tended to the angry redness on my arm, I lay there and watched.
I studied her, admiring her big heart to tend to me like this.
Appreciating her sweetness to be gentle and wish me well in this recovery.
I did it for you.
Saving Maisie had never been a debate.
