Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kirill & Harper
Kirill
"Don't go—Harper, please—"
My voice echoed down the empty hallway, like the howl of a beast trapped at the bottom of a well. Her figure faded into the distance, that blue dress shimmering in the dim light like a vanishing wave. I tried desperately to chase after her, but my legs felt like lead, every step a brutal fight.
"Harper!"
She finally stopped, but didn't turn around. Just stood there, shoulders shaking slightly. I thought she'd spin back, give me a chance to explain, even if it meant getting chewed out. But she did nothing, just kept walking, disappearing into the blinding white light at the end of the hall.
Darkness crashed over me like a tidal wave, swallowing me whole—
I jerked awake, chest heaving, cold sweat soaking my back. Damn nightmare. That fucking nightmare again.
The glaring white ceiling stared back, the sharp sting of antiseptic filling my nose. Hospital. I was in the hospital. A dull ache throbbed inmy left arm, like someone sawing at my bone with a blunt knife. I glanced down— the whole thing wrapped in bandages, looking like a goddamn mummy.
Memories trickled back. Gunshots. Blood. Harper's terrified scream. And that traitorous bastard Roman lying in a pool of his own blood.
"You're awake."
Olga's voice came from my right, perched on a chair by the bed, posture straight as ever, maintaining that flawless poise even here. But the shadows under her eyes gave her away— she'd been watching over me for hours.
I turned my head. Harper sat on the other side, cradling our child in her arms. Her eyes were swollen red, like ripe peaches, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks. She wore a wrinkled T-shirt, hair a mess, looking utterly exhausted.
But she was here. She was fucking here.
My throat tightened, words stuck.
The moment her eyes met mine, fresh tears spilled over, silent trails down her face. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but just shook her head, choking back a sob.
"I'm sorry," she finally rasped, voice shattered. "I'm sorry, Kirill. I shouldn't have— I accused you wrongly. I got you hurt. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't—"
"Hey." I cut her off, weaker than I expected. "Don't say that."
I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my left arm, making me hiss. Olga moved to help, but I waved her off. I didn't need her. What I needed was—
"If it gets you to cool off, I'd take a few more bullets." I forced a grin, knowing it probably looked like shit. "Seriously, worth it. You know how many times I've been shot? This doesn't even rate."
Harper cried harder, shoulders shaking. The baby stirred, letting out a grumpy whimper. She patted him gently, trying to soothe, but her own tears wouldn't stop.
Seeing her like that, my heart twisted like someone had grabbed it in a fist.
"I'm the one who should apologize," I said, each word dragged from deep in my chest. "I hurt you first. I didn't trust you. I—" I paused, eyes closing. "I took away your chance to see your brother one last time."
The room went dead quiet. Just the steady beep of machines and Harper's muffled sobs.
I struggled to lift my right hand—the only one that worked—and reached for her. My fingers shook, from weakness or nerves, I couldn't tell. When they brushed hers, she flinched but didn't pull away.
I gripped her fingers lightly. They were cold and slim, trembling in my palm.
"I love you."
The words exploded in the air like a dropped bomb.
Olga's eyebrow arched, but she stayed silent, just watching.
