My throat tightens.
There’s still some dried blood on Vanda’s fur—not her own. The bastard who hit her is likely bleeding out somewhere on the shop floor. Pavel said they’d left both attackers alive for questioning, but that won’t last long.
I crouch down beside them and let my hand rest gently on Vanda’s ribs. Her tail gives the weakest wag I’ve ever seen.
“You protected her,” I murmur, voice low, barely above a breath. “You did your job better than most men I know.”
Her tail thumps once. Just once.
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been stuck in my chest for hours.
“She’s a good girl,” Natalya whispers.
I nod. “The best.”
Vanda nuzzles her nose against Natalya’s hand before drifting into a heavy, medicated sleep, her breathing even.
Natalya tries to stand, but she staggers and she sinks back onto her heels. I slip an arm around her waist and pull her to her feet.
“Easy,” I murmur. “You’ve been running on adrenaline.”
She leans into me, her forehead pressing to my chest. “I kept thinking…if I’d held onto her tighter…if I’d run faster…”
“Stop.” I take her chin gently, lifting her face. “You did everything right.”
“But she got hurt—”
“She saved you,” I cut in quietly. “I’m sure she’s proud of that.” Natalya’s eyes fill again, tears threatening to spill. I brush them away with my thumb. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
She closes her eyes, breathing in deeply like she’s trying not to fall apart again.
I pull her fully into my arms. She melts into me without a fight, her body relaxing against mine. I hold her for a long time, until she finally stops shaking. Then I brush my lips to her temple and lead her gently out of the room, keeping an arm around her waist in case her knees decide to give out again. We move into the living room where I ease her down onto the couch, adjusting the cushions behind her. She leans back with a tired sigh. I grab the blanket draped over the armrest, shake it out, and tuck it carefully around her legs.
“Warm enough?” I ask quietly.
She nods, giving me a small grateful smile.
“What would you like to eat?” I ask, lowering myself to the couch beside her.
Her lips curve slightly. “Pizza?”
The knot in my chest loosens a little. “Pizza it is.”
I place the order for pizza and some sides. Thankfully, we don’t have to wait for too long. The delivery arrives in less than an hour and soon we curl up together on the couch, sharing slices from the same box like two people who haven’t spent the entire day fighting for each other’s lives.
She leans her head on my shoulder, legs tucked under the blanket, her body softening more with each bite. We eat in silence and it’s just so perfect—how in moments like this, we don’t need to say anything.
The front door suddenly bursts open.
“Natalya!” The two voices overlap, equally furious—frantic.
Natalya jerks upright, startled, just as Andrei and Mikhail practically storm through the living room. They’re still in their coats, their eyes wild with worry.
Andrei reaches her first, grabbing her face in his hands like he needs to confirm she’s real.
“You’re okay,” he breathes, relief and anger warring in his eyes. “Bozhe moy, you’re okay.”
Mikhail stands behind him, jaw locked, scanning her from head to toe as if expecting to find some hidden wound.
