I was carried.
Lev. His strong arms were around me, bringing me to safety.
Survive.
You can do this.
Survive.
I coughed, and pain coursed through me. Starting at my neck and spreading over my chest and down my arms, I felt the electric brand of my flesh, so hot and inflamed, the molten spillage of my blood as it seeped from me.
Survive. I need… to survive.
My throat burned, every molecule of air so hot and raw.
My heart raced, each pulse and push of my blood weakening me further.
No. I can’t…
I need to survive.
The mantra looped in my mind, but in the intermittent flashes of lucid moments, I heard Lev saying the same thing.
“I can’t lose you, Mila. I can’t. Stay with me.”
I will. You won’t lose me. I’ll never leave you, Lev. Never.
I wanted to sob it. Scream it. Promise it in any variation of those words.
My mouth couldn’t form anything. My words—that one and only power I thought I had—failed me. I was just too weak.
“I can’t lose you forever. Please, Mila. Please. Stay with me.”
Hearing him beg me to live and stay with him sliced at my soul. As I bled out, my heart cracked and ached at the utter desperation in his tone.
“Please, Mila.”
I want to.
I will, Lev.
I’m trying. I’m fighting.
Falling in and out of consciousness, I was locked in a cycle of hopelessness.
This was what it felt like to be truly powerless.
The darkness never faded, tripping me on a weightless and numbing sensation of the most basic functions of living.
Breathing. Heart beating. Sleeping… as I bled out.
In between the darkness and the almost-awake stretches of time—periods I couldn’t begin to quantify—I was taken back to when I’d first met him.
At that standoff in the desert, I never could’ve known that he would change my life. That he wouldn’t end up being just one more owner among so many others.
He’d asked me if I wanted to be free. It had seemed like such a cruel mockery at the time, but he’d meant it. At that moment, he’d posed the question to signify how I could wish to be free.
Dead.