A muffled shot rings out before he can finish, sharp and precise as it sinks into his thigh. Cesare jerks back as his strangled cry rips from his throat, and he crumples to the floor with a hand against the new wound. Blood immediately spreads through the fabric of his pants, staining his palm while he struggles against the pain.
Artem steps through the doors first, gun raised as he points it at Carlo now with a hardened expression. His eyes are cold yet focused, and behind him, more of our men surround him.
It’s over before Carlo can even grasp what’s happening.
Knowing the kind of shot he is, the bullet placement was deliberate, meant to maim instead of kill.
The tangle of rage and confusion on his face gives him away, and this moment is all I need.
Without hesitating, I cut the space on him before he can fix his aim or even decide where to direct his attention. My fist collides with the side of his face in a sharp, brutal arc, and he staggers back. The impact stuns him, forcing his grip to loosen.
It’s enough to create space, so I take it, grabbing Mila and hauling her back behind me. The warmth of her skin beneath mine reassures me immediately, and I cling to that thought as I shield her with my body.
Even with her behind me, Carlo recovers enough to stare me down, arm already lifting his pistol again with clear, murderous intent.
Just as I prepare myself to sink the shot, the gun never goes off.
Another crack splits the air, muted but still present, and without warning, Carlo’s body jolts just like his brother’s did. This time, Artem’s bullet lands square in the chest, forcing him back. After his hand presses to the wound in a slight daze, looking down while blood soaks his shirt, he collapses a beat later. He hits the ground hard, gun skidding across the floor.
There’s no time to process everything as Artem and the others swarm in, surrounding Cesare and ensuring he’sthoroughly disarmed before hauling him upright. Pressure is put on his wound while he’s taken out, pulled through the sea of men.
I see it all unfolding, but it doesn’t truly set in while I feel Mila shaking against me, hidden but not unaware of what has just happened.
With the immediate danger over, I turn fully to her now, hands framing her face while I scan her quickly. With no blood or obvious injuries in front of me, it’s just her rapid, uneven breathing that seems vaguely concerning. She’s still here and standing, and that’s enough to level me out.
“You’re safe now,” I tell her firmly, forcing my voice to steady despite how shaky it is underneath. My thumb traces across her cheek while I really take her in, trying so hard to ground myself in this moment. “It’s over.”
Her fingers curl around my wrists, holding my gaze with a crushing softness in her eyes, both from lingering fear and relief. “I was…God, I was so scared, Ivan.”
“I know,” I murmur, softer now as I keep her close, never wanting to stop gazing at her ever again. “I’ve got you.”
Despite how she still shakes from the adrenaline, Mila manages a slight nod, staying pressed up against me as Artem approaches.
He glances between us, then gestures back behind him. “We’ve got everything covered. The wing will stay locked down for a little while, but we’re clearing the guys out before anyone asks too many questions. We already have a story for hospital security.”
“Good,” I tell him, giving him a genuine nod of gratitude. “And thank you for being here.”
At that, my cousin mirrors the gesture, like it’s no skin off his back, claps my shoulder, then heads back to join the others.
Mila takes a big breath once the hallway starts to quiet little by little as the men head out and the main security takes over. The moment I pull her in, wrapping both arms around her, she presses her cheek against my chest and closes her eyes. It’s a soft surrender, but enough to make my heart ache all over again.
Giving her a moment, I gently brush my fingers through her hair, then rest my hand against the back of her head. “Look at me.”
At my murmur, she looks up, eyes still glassy with damp lashes framing them, but the life in her eyes serves as a constant reminder. She’s with me. She’s okay.
“You did everything right…from the moment you ran away from them that day,” I tell her, brushing some of her hair back. “What happened to the two of them was their own doing.”
Mila closes her eyes again, bracing herself, but she nods. “I just wish things could’ve been different.”
“They can be now,” I hum, gently hooking my fingers under her chin to keep her gaze on me. “You don’t have to worry anymore. You can live your life.”
While a touch of sadness holds on within her features, Mila nods, seemingly allowing herself to truly take it in and to grasp what that means for her now.
With a press of my forehead against hers, I take a breath. “We need to get you checked out, just in case.”
“Will you be there?”
“Of course,” I say without hesitation, keeping an arm firmly around her as we move down the hall, moving with slowsteps that gradually get more sure the farther we go. “I’m not going anywhere.”
