"I know. I know you're tired. But you have to fight. Please. For me. Fight."
His hand finds mine. Our fingers intertwine, blood-slick and trembling. "I love you," he whispers thickly. "I was going to say it… after. I guess this… is after."
I want to shape words in response, something to tell him that I love him too, but sound won't come. The world is going dark. I can feel myself slipping away, consciousness fading. The last thing I see is Andrei's face, pale and as lost as I am. The last thing I feel is his hand in mine.
And then there's nothing. Just darkness.
Just the two of us, falling together into the void.
24
LIESL
The first thing I notice is the softness beneath me. Not the cold, hard ground of the cabin floor, but something plush and expensive.
I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel weighted down. My mouth is dry, tongue thick and clumsy. There's a dull, persistent ache in my shoulder that sharpens when I try to move.
I'm alive.The realization hits me with enough force to make my breath catch. I'm alive. I survived.
But did he?
Panic floods through me, cold and sharp, cutting through the fog of whatever drugs they've given me. I force my eyes open, blinking against the soft golden light filtering through familiar curtains.
I know this room—the high ceilings with their ornate molding, the massive windows overlooking manicured grounds, the antique furniture. I'm back at the estate. Andrei's estate. The main house, not the safe house.
I try to sit up and immediately regret it. Pain lances through my shoulder, white-hot and vicious. I gasp, falling back against the pillows, my hand instinctively going to the wound.
There's a bandage there. Someone took care of me. Someone brought me here and patched me up and put me in this bed.
But where is Andrei?
The question consumes me, drowning out the pain, the confusion, everything else. I need to know if he's alive. I need to see him, touch him, confirm that he survived the cabin.
That we both survived.
I need to know what happened to my father, too.
I push myself up more carefully this time, gritting my teeth against the pain. My shoulder screams in protest, but I ignore it.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand on shaking legs. I'm wearing a pajama shorts set made out of soft cotton. Someone dressed me. Someone took care of me while I was unconscious. The thought should make me uncomfortable, but I can't bring myself to care. All I care about is finding Andrei.
I make it to the door and pull it open, stepping into the hallway. The house is quiet, but not empty. I can hear voices somewhere below—low, masculine, speaking in Russian. Guards, probably. Or Andrei's men discussing strategy, planning their next move. I have no idea what happened… how it all ended, if it even ended. For all I know, nothing has changed.
The thought makes my chest feel tight, and the next is even worse.
Or Andrei has died, and everything has changed. I have no idea who would be in charge, then.
Maybe one of the men who want me dead.
The smart thing to do would be to try to get out before they can get ahold of me, if that's the case. But I can't leave without knowing if Andrei is alright. And surely, if someone new was in charge and they wanted me dead, I already would be. I was unconscious… anything could have happened to me during that time. The fact that I'm alive must be proof of…
I have to know.
I turn toward the stairs, my bare feet silent on the polished hardwood floor. Each step sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder, but I push through it. I have to find him.
I'm halfway down the hallway when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I freeze, my heart suddenly pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
And then he appears at the top of the stairs.
