My knees hit the floor so hard pain shoots up my legs, but I don’t care. I’m already pulling her into my lap, already checking her breathing with shaking fingers.
She’s alive.
But she’s not moving.
Her eyes are half-closed and unfocused, her breaths short and shallow, like every inhale hurts.
Behind me, the shop explodes into movement; Alexei’s men swarming the attacker, shouting orders, clearing the scene—but all I see is the dog who saved my life, fighting for hers.
“Please,” I whisper, stroking her head through shaking fingers. “Please stay with me, baby. Please.”
Viktor finally moves, as if broken out from a trance. He comes down beside me in a heavy, controlled way…like he’s holding his whole body back from shaking apart. His hand hovers over Vanda first, not touching her yet, just feeling her breath, his chest rising and falling too fast.
“She’s alive,” he murmurs, the words thick, scraped raw. He presses a hand gently to her side. “Pulse is strong. She’s breathing.”
His exhale hits the air like relief and rage tangled together.
There’s a lot of activities going on around us but all of it fades under the ringing in my ears, under the fear clawing inside me.
“This is my fault,” I choke out. “She was trying to protect me—I should have protected her.”
His jaw flexes hard enough I see the muscle jump. Then he carefully slips an arm beneath her fragile body and lifts her against his chest.
“It’s not your fault,lepestok,” he says softly, like he’s afraid I’ll argue. “You did what you had to. Now, let’s get her to a vet.”
I nod and he turns, barking orders over his shoulder without raising his voice:
“Secure the building. Keep the scene tight for Alexei and Dmitri. No one enters.”
Then, to the men nearest to him. “Pavel. Mark. You’re with me. Car now.”
They snap into motion instantly. He adjusts Vanda in his arms and looks at me.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice gentle again. “She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”
Chapter Eight
Viktor
Thankfully, Vanda will be okay.
She’s bruised and sore, moreso because of her age. The vet says we’ll have to monitor her for a while, but she’ll live.
It scares me…how small she feels. How fragile. How close I came to losing her…and losing Natalya with her.
The car ride back to the apartment is quiet except for Natalya’s soft sniffles beside me. She tries to hide them, but I feel every shudder of her breath. I rest my hand on her thigh, rubbing slow circles, grounding her…grounding myself.
When we reach the building, Pavel and Marko jump out first, scanning the street. Only when they nod do I open the door and step out, holding Vanda carefully against my chest.
Natalya keeps touching Vanda’s paw with shaking fingers, whispering things like “good girl” and “almost home.” Her voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it. Rawer too. I don’t interrupt. I don’t tell her to calm down or breathe.
She’s earned every shake in her hands.
When the doors finally open, we head straight for Andrei’s room. It’s the quietest, darkest space in the apartment, far from anything that might stress the dog again.
I lower her carefully onto the folded blankets that Natalya arranged on the floor. She whimpers once, shifting her head, then settles with a tired sigh.
Natalya kneels beside her immediately. “Hey, sweetheart,” she whispers, stroking the fur between Vanda’s ears. “You did so good. You were so brave. My perfect girl.”
