"Danica." I keep my voice soft. "Look at me."
Nothing happens and she just keeps staring at the wall with those blank eyes. I try again and get the same result. She's locked inside her own head, and I need to snap her out of it before the shock gets worse.
I pull my hand back and slap her across the face hard enough to sting. Her head snaps to the side and for a moment, there's nothing. Then she sucks in a sharp breath and her eyes focus on me.
Recognition floods her face and then she's crying harsh sobs that shake her entire body. She reaches for me blindly, and I catch her before she collapses completely.
"I've got you." I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. "You're safe now." The relief I feel is so overwhelming, all I can do is kneel there cradling her. I'm not a weak man, but when tears well up in my eyes, I know my life is fundamentally changed.
The instant I got that phone call from her friend, I knew I couldn’t lose her. I went mad with rage and fear. Fear—not concern or frustration. I felt terror for the first time in my life, and at the thought that Marko would kill her, all I could think was to get to her as fast as possible.
She clings to me like I'm the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Her fingers dig into my shirt and she buries her face against my shoulder. The sobs keep coming and I let them because she needs this release.
This is the first time she's ever shown me real vulnerability. She's letting herself break down in front of me like she trusts me, and it makes me hold her harder. Nothing in my world would give me greater pleasure than to go kill that motherfucker right now, but she needs me.
The shock was bad enough that she might be traumatized from this and have nightmares for weeks or months. I've had it happen to me and it's not pleasant. But Danica isn't a soldier and she's never been trained to handle this kind of violence. I have no idea how she'll handle it.
I slide one arm under her knees and lift her off the floor. She doesn't protest and her head lolls against my shoulder. The crying has quieted to small hiccupping sounds and stutter breathing, but she's still trembling.
"We're leaving." I carry her toward the door. "You're never coming back to this place."
My car is still parked at the curb, and I settle her in the passenger seat. Her eyes are closed now and she's not crying anymore, but she's not really present either. I buckle her seatbelt and close the door gently.
Vuk is waiting by the driver's side when I walk around. He looks at Danica through the window and then back at me.
"Marko's gone." He hands me a burner phone. "Money's being delivered now. He won't be a problem anymore."
"Good." I take the phone and tuck it into my pocket. "Make sure he understands that if he shows his face near her again, he's a dead man."
"Already made that clear, Boss." Vuk steps back from the car. "She gonna be okay?"
"I don't know," I grumble because I don't. The word "okay" is subjective. Will she die? Probably not, but I'm not sure she'll ever be the same.
I get in the car and start the engine. Danica's still staring straight ahead with that blank expression on her face. I pull away from the curb and head toward home. This is going to take time for her to recover from. Time for the trauma to fade and for her to feel safe again.
But I have time, and I'll use every second of it to make sure she heals from this.
18
DANICA
The mattress dips under Vadim's weight as he sets me down gingerly like I might shatter. I stare at the ceiling blankly and lie there shivering. My body is present but my mind's somewhere else entirely, replaying the moment Marko's gun pressed against my temple. He would've killed me. I know it.
"Here." Vadim presses a glass of water into my hand, followed by two white pills. Then he helps me sit up, though I feel woozy. "Take these."
I look at the aspirin in my palm and realize I'm trying hard to close my fingers around them but my hands won't cooperate. I feel numb and paralyzed by all this heavy emotion. I'm seeing the world, but interaction feels so difficult, like slogging through chest-deep mud. What's happening to me?
"I can't," I whisper.
"You need to?—"
"I need a drink," I grunt, and I don't mean water. Water is good, but it's not going to take the edge off what I’m feeling. This oppressive heaviness is crushing my soul. I can’t feel my limbs. My vision is dim and blurry.
But Vadim sighs and rubs his face before walking out of the room. I sit there waiting for him, so weak and out of it, I can't respond when I notice the pills drop from my hand and the water start to spill to my leg and the floor below.
Marko's not going to stop hunting me until he kills me. He keeps coming back for more and more. When this started, Dusan barely owed a thing, but every time I miss a payment, Marko jacks up the total. I can't make Vadim pay that money to him. It isn't right. This is my brother’s debt, not his, and I don't want to just become indebted to someone else.
When Vadim returns, he carries a bottle of rakija and a single glass. He pours a measure and offers it to me, but I reach past the glass and take the bottle instead. The brandy is exactly what I need and I'm so numb, I hardly feel the burn as I chug from it, large, painful gulps that stretch my neck and make me wince.
