Skeet sits right beside me and pulls me into a tight hug.
“You’re safe now, baby,” Skeet says, a tear in his eye. “We’resafe. We’re home. Breathe.”
He gets up for a moment and returns with a warm mug of milk—vanilla and honey, exactly the way I like it when I’m overwhelmed. I wrap my hands around it, letting the heat seep into my cold fingers, while Brando is tucked firmly under my other arm. I hug him close to my chest like a lifeline.
Bobby paces near the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. His voice is low and urgent as he speaks to whoever is on the other end.
“…yes, in the park near his apartment. Shots fired,” Bobby says. “Uncle Kirill drew them away so he could escape. We’re at hisplace now. We need eyes on the area and a safe extraction if necessary.”
Bobby listens for a moment, then nods. “Understood. Keep me updated.”
Bobby ends the call and turns to us, his face serious but composed. He’s so young, yet right now he looks like he’s done this a hundred times.
Skeet keeps rubbing my back in slow circles. “Drink, sweetie. It’ll help.”
I take a shaky sip of the warm milk, the sweetness coating my tongue. Tears prick at my eyes again. “Bobby… do you think Kirill will be okay?”
Bobby walks over and kneels in front of me, placing a gentle hand on my knee. His eyes are steady, honest. “I hope so. I really do. But this… this is the reality of this fucked up life, Teddy. Danger is always around the corner. One minute everything is fine, the next someone is shooting at you in a park. It’s why Uncle Kirill has been so careful about bringing you in.”
Bobby’s words hit hard.
I feel fresh tears spill over, but underneath the fear something else stirs—a stubborn, determined strength. It feels like the final reps of a brutal set in the gym, when every muscle is screaming but you know you have one more push left in you.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and hug Brando tighter.
My voice comes out small but steady. “I know my Daddy will pull through.”
Bobby’s expression softens with quiet pride. He nods once. “He will. He always does. I could tell you a hundred tales of Uncle Kirill’s rise up the family.”
Skeet squeezes my shoulder. “Listen to Bobby. Kirill will be back. And you’re stronger than you think.”
Bobby stands, already moving with purpose. “We can’t stay here long. If they were targeting Uncle Kirill and you were with him, it’s possible this apartment is now compromised too. They might come looking. I’m taking you both somewhere safe. One of our secure locations. Pack a small bag, Teddy. Essentials only. We leave in five minutes.”
I nod, even though my legs still feel like jelly. Skeet helps me up and we move quickly throwing a few clothes, my charger, Brando, and some snacks into a backpack. Bobby stays by the window, watching the street with sharp eyes.
As I zip the bag, a fresh wave of fear rolls through me, but I push it down.
I think of Kirill: the way he shielded me, the way he commanded me to run, the fierce kiss he gave me before he sprinted into danger. He riskedeverythingfor me.
He has to be okay.
My Daddy has to come back to me.
Bobby checks his phone one last time. “Car’s waiting downstairs. Let’s go.”
We slip out of the apartment and down the stairs. A black SUV is idling at the curb, windows tinted dark. Bobby opens the back door for us, his movements efficient and protective.
As we pull away from the building, I wave goodbye to Skeet as he walks down the sidewalk, blending into the pedestrians with ease. I clutch Brando to my chest and stare out the window, the city lights blurring through unshed tears.
I don’t know what happens next.
I don’t know how deep this world of Kirill’s really goes.
But I do know one thing with sudden, fierce clarity: I’m not ready to walk away from him.
Not yet.
Not ever.
