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His shaking recedes; he swallows, like he's gathering himself up. Glancing at Arsen, then towards Yevgeniy, he stumbles forward. I'm the only one watching when he launches himself onto Yevgeniy's back. He doesn't make a sound, but his father does. "What are you doing?" he demands, craning his neck to see.
Ruslan clings on tight, even when Yevgeniy backs up into the wall, crushing his own son. Yevgeniy shifts his arms, holding my mother with one around her throat while snatching at Ruslan. He catches the boy's shirt, ripping the cloth. The black crown shines when it's exposed to the light.
Using both his thumbs, Ruslan digs into his father's face. His knuckles and nails grind in, deep as possible, the liquid squish turning my stomach.
"Fuck!" Yevgeniy roars, releasing my mother.
She falls forward, hitting the floor and lying limply on her side. Yevgeniy tugs desperately at Ruslan's arms, trying to dislodge him to no avail. "You little shit! I'll make you pay for this!"
"Ruslan!” Arsen shouts. “Let go!”
Ruslan obediently does as Arsen commands, rolling on the ground in my direction. I scoop him into my arms, holding his cheek to my chest protectively. He doesn't see the rifle go off, but I do.
Blood sprays from Yevgeniy's chest, running down in rivulets that pool at his crumpling knees.
His lips move soundlessly. Wiping his hands over his ribs, he raises them up, staring in shock at the red on his palms. Arsen angles the rifle down. He could keep studding Yevgeniy with bullets, and honestly, it's a wonder he doesn't. This awful man murdered his pregnant wife... he's caused Arsen untold levels of pain for years. In his shoes, I'd empty the entire clip.
Instead, he just stares at Yevgeniy, who angles his chin up as if he’s going to say something.
But the only sound that emerges from his throat is a wet cough, sending crimson spittle everywhere. And then, just like that, he tumbles forward.
Dead.
Ruslan whimpers in my arms. "Are you okay?" I ask him.
"Yes," he says into my shirt, before shifting around.
I grab the back of his head. "Don’t look."
"Let him," Arsen says. "He should see what's become of the monster that was his father."
I start to argue, but Ruslan wriggles firmly out of my arms. The boy who was trembling and broken a moment ago is gone. This child has a serious, grim face, his mouth a hard line. He looks pointedly at his dead father, quietly judging him where he lies. His hand rubs on his tattoo. I hold my breath, waiting for him to cry, but he only closes his eyes and nods.
Arsen shoulders his rifle, then helps my mother to her feet. She gives him a grateful smile.
"I’ll be fine," she assures him. Her hand gingerly brushes the bruises already forming on her neck. "Check on Galina. She’s hurt."
A new wave of fire lights up in Arsen's eyes. If Yevgeniy wasn't already dead, he'd be tearing him apart. Crossing the room in just two long strides, he crouches before me, scooping my cheeks into his warm palms. God, I've missed these hands. "Galina, what?—"
My lips press onto his before he finishes the question. He tenses up, his hands locking on me tighter. There's no hesitance when he kisses me back, his fingers seeking my hair, my jaw, my shoulders. I do the same, because I want to make sure this is real. I need to feel his solid existence, because if I don't, my heart might deflate. This is real. He is real!
"I wished for this," I croak as I end the kiss. "I hoped so badly that you'd show up and save us, and you did it. You actually did it."
"Of course I did." He traces his thumb over my cheek, just under my left eye where the tears are pooling. "I was never going to let him take you away from me."
"I can't believe it," I whisper, "It's over."
The joy leaves his face. "No," Arsen says. He guides me to my feet, makes sure I'm steady, then moves to the window, peering out at the world. "There's more left to do." He considers all of us one by one. "We need to get out of here. Can you run?"
He's asking everyone, but really, he's asking me.
I step forward—a searing pain tsunamis through my belly. It forces me to suck in air, catching my breath and bracing for more of the awful sensation. Nothing happens.
"Galina?" Arsen asks warily.
"I can," I say confidently, "I have to."
He smiles in relief, but my mother catches my eye.
