Slowly, the memories come back to me. Of being trapped in my room. Of Valya getting me free. Of Pyotr.Pyotr.He did this. I remember now. We all thought he was dead, but as I was resting my head on Kirill’s shoulder, I saw him sit up like a mangled zombie, and raise his gun. That’s when I pushed Kirill and that- that must have been when I got shot.
Suddenly tears spring to my eyes as my hands fly to my stomach.
“The baby-” I start to panic.
“Our baby is fine,” Kirill assured me quickly, placing his hand beside mine atop my stomach, his fingers touching mine. “And you will be too.”
I relax a little, and take a good, long look at my husband.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” I tell him.
His lips twitch as some of the sharpness returns to his eyes.
“I thought the same thing about you,” he replies. “I’m so sorry,devochka.”
My brows furrow.
“What for?” I ask. “None of this was your fault.”
As I say that, Kirill shakes his head.
“It is my fault. I should have discovered what Pyotr was up to sooner. All the clues were there but I didn’t want to put them together. Didn’t want to believe that my brother would do something like this. I knew he was unhappy but I- I never thought he’d try to betray me like this. What he did to you. To Me. To Valya and Yulian.”
At the mention of my family I tense again.
“Are they are alright?” I ask. “Kirill, I know you’re mad, but they didn’t have a choice!”
“They’re fine,” Kirill promises me. “They’re with my people right now, telling them everything, but they’re going to be fine. I’ll even make a call. Let them come see you if you want.”
I nod my head quickly, and as Kirill pulls out his cellphone, I take a look around the room. It’s clean and white, but not a hospital. There’s a chandelier hanging above the bed, a heavy, gray-stained bureau across from the queen sized bed I’m in, and a large, circular mirror hanging directly above it.
“Where am I?” I ask as Kirill puts his phone down.
“You’re home,” Kirill explains. “We have our own doctors and surgeons. They came here and operated on you. Once you’re strong enough, we’ll move you up to our bedroom where you belong.”
“And my family?” I ask. “Where are they?”
“Edik’s nearly finished with their interro- their interview, downstairs. They’ll be up in a few minutes. Until they get here I want to have the doctor come in and look at you.”
I don’t want to wait even a few minutes to see my family, but I nod, knowing that Kirill wouldn’t lie to me. Besides, I want to hear from the doctor myself that our baby is fine.
Kirill picks up his phone again, this time making a call, and barks an order in Russian. Only a second passes before the door my room opens, and a gray-haired woman in gray slacks and a pink sweater walks in.
“I see our patient is awake,” she says, her tone and smile warm as she comes toward me.
“Good to have you back, Annika, I’m Dr. Silinsky,” she tells me, placing a comforting touch on my hand.
“Dr. Silinsky has been taking care of my people for years,” Kirill explains as she begins to gently peel back my bandage andinspect my wound, “She’s an expert at getting us back on our feet even under the worst circumstances.”
“Well you’ve all given me plenty of practice to hone my skills,” Dr. Silinsky jokes.
“How’s your pain levels, dear?” she asks me.
Kirill’s eyes flick back to me, all the worry rushing back to his face.
“Be honest,” he urges me after I hesitate.
“It hurts,” I confess. “But it’s being than being dead I suppose.”
