Rain drummed the safehouseroof.Keisha sat on a creaky cot, fingers trembling on her water bottle.Nadia’s incense curled from a corner, choking her throat.Tiana was gone.Moved while she’d slept.A call Sergei made with no discussion.
“You didn’t tell me,” she snapped.Sergei leaned against the wall.
Nadia sorted supplies on a crate, eyes flicking between them.
“It’s safer this way,” Sergei said, voice low, steady.“Two targets are harder to track than one.”
“Tiana’s my responsibility.You don’t get to decide without me.”
Nadia paused.“He’s right.Kryvaya Stal’s got eyes everywhere.”
Keisha stood, sneakers squeaking, heat rising in her chest.“You don’t know me or Tiana.She trusts me.”Sergei’s confession from the parlor still scared her.His hands, breaking bones in the warehouse, saving Tiana, tore at her logic.
Sergei stepped closer, boots heavy.“You were out cold, Keisha.I couldn’t wait.”
“Out cold?”Her voice cracked, fist clenching.“Because I’m weak?Say it, Sergei.”Kieran’s cold stare flashed in her memory, seizing in his bed, his words.
This is too much, Keisha.
“You’re not weak.”Sergei’s jaw tightened, eyes steady, no pity.“But you’re not bulletproof either.”
Keisha’s throat burned with emotion, her mother’s voice echoing.
Stand tall, baby.No one’s coming to rescue you.
“Tiana’s not your call,” she said, stepping into his space.“You don’t get to play savior without asking.”
His hand hovered near her arm but not touching.“I kept her alive.That’s the job.”
Her pulse stirred, unbidden, his closeness a pull she fought.“You don’t get it,” she hissed.“I’m her protector, not you.You’re just—”
“Just what?”His voice roughened, inches away.“The guy who pulled you out of that warehouse?”
Her tremor spiked, metallic taste flooding her tongue.Not now.“The guy who broke people for Kryvaya Stal,” she shot back.“How do I trust that?”
Nadia’s eyes widened, stepping back.Sergei’s face hardened.“I’m not them anymore,” he said, low, raw.
Keisha’s vision blurred, the room tilting.Her legs wobbled, bracelet digging into her wrist as she grabbed the cot.The metallic taste sharpened, copper and fear mixing.A focal seizure was coming, stress and fatigue pulling the trigger.Not now, not with Nadia here.
She tried to speak, to tell Sergei, but her words slurred, tongue heavy.Her arm jerked, knocking the water bottle to the floor.Shame burned—Kieran’s rejection, Nadia’s ignorance of her illness, her body betraying her in front of them.
Sergei moved fast, boots scuffing, body blocking Nadia’s view.“Nadia, check the perimeter,” he barked, voice sharp but calm.“Now.”
Nadia hesitated, then nodded, slipping out the door.Sergei knelt, hands rolling Keisha onto her side, one palm cushioning her head against the wood.“Breathe through it,” he murmured, voice steady.“I’ve got you.She didn’t see.”
Her body shook, spasms spreading through her right arm, consciousness fraying but not gone.The room blurred into streaks, incense choking her.She was aware—too aware—of Sergei’s hands, his breath near her ear, shielding her weakness.
Kieran’s disgust flashed.I can’t handle this.
Time stretched, then snapped.The spasms eased, her limbs heavy, sweat soaking her blouse.Awareness crept back.The wood floor cold, Sergei’s jacket under her cheek, his hand firm on her shoulder.Shame crashed through, raw, corrosive.
“Easy,” he said, voice soft as she tried to sit.“Give it a minute.”
She pushed his hand away, muscles aching, voice thick.“I’m fine.”The lie tasted bitter, her tongue too big for her mouth.
He stayed crouched, hand hovering, ready to catch her.“You didn’t tell me it was coming,” he said, no judgment, just fact.
Her throat burned, tears held back.“I didn’t know until it was too late.”Nadia’s absence was a small mercy.She didn’t need another witness to her fragility.“Why’d you send her out?”
