Andrei grabs my arm and drags me behind our car. "Stay down!" he shouts over the noise. "Don't move!"
But I can't stay down. I can't hide while people die around me. I peer around the edge of the car and see my father on the ground, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers. One of Volkov's men is dragging him toward the SUVs, trying to get him to safety.
"Dad!" I start to move toward him, but Andrei yanks me back.
"Are you insane?" He's furious, terrified. "You'll get yourself killed!"
"He's hurt! I have to?—"
Another volley of gunfire cuts me off. I see one of Andrei's men go down, blood spraying from his chest. Viktor takescover behind the second vehicle, returning fire.
Andrei releases me and moves around the car, his gun raised. He fires three times in rapid succession and two of Volkov's men drop. Then he's moving forward, using the chaos as cover,advancing on Volkov's position with the cold mercilessness of a predator.
"Andrei, no!" I scream, but he doesn't hear me. Or he hears me and ignores me, too focused on his target to care about anything else. I watch in horror as he closes the distance. Volkov sees him coming and raises his own weapon.
They fire at the same time. Volkov goes down. A perfect shot to the center of his chest. But Andrei staggers. His hand goes to his side, and comes away red.
"No." The word is barely a whisper. "No, no, no."
I'm moving before I can think, running toward him across the open space between the vehicles. Bullets whiz past me. Someone shouts my name, but I don't care.
I reach Andrei just as his legs give out. He collapses against me, his weight nearly taking us both down. "I've got you," I gasp, trying to support him. "I've got you, just—just hold on."
"Liesl." His voice is weak and strained. "You need to run. Get out of here."
"I'm not leaving you."
"Stubborn woman." He tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. "Always so stubborn. Always… such a brat."
I lower him to the ground as gently as I can, my hands pressing against the wound in his side. Blood wells up between my fingers, hot and slick. Too much blood. Way too much blood.
"You're going to be okay," I whisper, even though I don't believe it. "Viktor will get us out of here. We'll get you to a hospital. You're going to be fine."
"Liesl—"
A sharp, burning pain explodes in my shoulder. I gasp, my vision going white for a moment. When it clears, I'm on the ground next to Andrei, my own blood mixing with his.
I've been shot.
The realization is distant, almost abstract. Like it's happening to someone else. I can see the wound—a neat hole in my shoulder, blood soaking through my shirt—but I can't quite connect it to the pain radiating through my body.
"No!" Andrei tries to sit up, trying to reach me. "No, fuck, Liesl?—"
"I'm okay." I'm not okay. I'm very much not okay. But I need him to believe it. I need him to stay calm. "I'm okay, it's just my shoulder."
He drags himself closer, his movements slow. When he reaches me, he pulls me against his chest with his good arm, holding me like he can protect me from the bullets still flying around us. "I'm sorry," he whispers into my hair. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault. All of it. I should never have?—"
"Don't." I press my hand to his face, forcing him to look at me. "Don't apologize. This isn't your fault."
"Your father was right. You have Stockholm Syndrome. You don't actually?—"
"Shut up." My vision is starting to blur at the edges. "Please. Stay with me."
The gunfire is fading. Or maybe I'm just fading, my hearing going distant and muffled. I can see Viktor running toward us, his mouth moving, but I can't hear what he's saying. Andrei's grip on me is loosening. His eyes are closing.
"No." I try to shake him, but my arms won't cooperate. "No, Andrei, stay awake. You have to stay awake."
"Tired," he mumbles. "So tired."
