The gunshot cracks through the room.
My ears ring, sharp and painful. The bullet slams into the wall next to his father’s head, and chunks of plaster scatter across the floor.
Every gun swings back to Alexei. Away from me.
I suck in air. When did I stop breathing?
Alexei takes a step back, gun still raised and says something in Russian. His voice is flat. Cold. Deadly. He points at me with his free hand.
His father spits on the floor. He points the knife toward me and says something, then at Alexei, his face twisting with so much disgust I feel it like a physical blow. The woman gasps, hand flying to her chest.
I don’t speak Russian. Don’t need to.
The meaning’s clear enough.
Abomination.
Disgrace.
Wrong.
The woman’s hand cracks across his father’s face hard enough to snap his head to the side. She starts yelling even louder at him this time. His father spits on the ground again while ignoring her, then he turns and walks out. The guards follow.
Alexei clicks the safety. Prowls over to me and pulls me against his chest. He kisses the top of my head, panting. “You’re okay,zaychik. You’re safe.”
I try to answer. I can’t. My throat has closed up completely. My hands are trembling so violently I have to fist them on his shorts just to hold on.
He almost died. He was going to kill his own father. For me. Would have done it without hesitating, and I would have watched it happen.
The woman clears her throat.
Alexei turns us both toward her, keeping me tucked against his side as if he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll disappear. She looks wrecked. Eyes red and swollen, chest heaving. She says something in Russian, then glances at me.
“He doesn’t understand Russian,” Alexei says.
She sighs and fixes her dress with shaking hands, then gestures down the hall. “Follow me.”
Alexei immediately grabs my hand. Laces our fingers together so tight it almost hurts. And pulls me with him.
We walk after her down the hallway. When I glance over, Alexei’s still holding that gun. Blood still drips from the cut on his neck. He hasn’t wiped it away. Hasn’t even acknowledged it.
My brain won’t shut up.
The guards are waiting around the corner.
His father is coming back.
They’re going to separate us.
But when we get to the living room, it’s empty.
She sits on the couch and wipes her hand over her forehead, letting out a deep breath.
Alexei walks us to the opposite couch and we sit. My heart is still hammering against my ribs. His entire neck is covered in blood, dark red dripping down his chest.
A tear escapes before I can stop it. I swipe at my face, but it’s too late.
His eyes lock on mine immediately. Something shifts in his expression, softens for just a second before going flat again.
