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I must have hit my head pretty hard because my priorities are all out of whack.
The temperature steadily creeps lower as we walk for hours, and my nerves are frayed as I consider all the animals that might be out there silently stalking us, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.
Every snapped twig or rustling bush makes me practically leap out of my skin.
And all the while, Mishka looks like he’s just taking a midnight jaunt.
The space between us is eerily quiet. He hasn’t said two words since we left the burnt wreckage of our car behind, and despite my discomfort and fear, I worry more about my parents, my brother, the men who died tonight trying to protect my family.
Who were those men who ambushed us, and why?
I try not to wonder if I’ll ever see my family again. Biting my lip, I stave off tears as my mind’s eye brings forth pictures of them lifeless and cold, riddled with bullets in the Escalade that didn’t go tumbling down a hill.
The walking helps a bit. The steady tromping through the thick underbrush that tangles in my dress and snags my feet gives me a distraction from my anxiety, my pain.
It also makes me twist my ankle on more than one occasion.
My nude heels are anything but ideal in this situation, and it doesn’t take long before my feet are throbbing. Blisters rise on my toes and along the scalloped edges of the patent leather. But going barefoot would be far more painful. Of that I’m certain.
So, I bite my tongue and keep on walking and walking and walking.
“Okay, Mishka, I can’t,” I sob finally, bracing a palm against the trunk of a tree when I feel like my feet might fall off if I take another step. “I’m sorry, but I can’t keep going.”
I sound like a baby, but I can’t help it. I’m so anxious about my family. I’m in pain and desperate to get off my feet. Not to mention the temperature has dropped until my teeth have started chattering. Tears sting my eyes as I try to hold it together, but when he turns to look at me in the moonlight, they start to come anyway, trickling silently down my cheeks.
The signature furrow in his brow deepens, and he backtracks to stand before me, his expression softening as he seems to realize for the first time that I’m not okay.
“Are you dizzy?” he asks, his hands coming up to check the cut on my temple. Light fingers brush my cheek along the way, and their warmth is astonishing compared to my icy skin. “Christ, Alina, you’re freezing,” he realizes, his tone gruff as his hands shift directions to wrap around my arms.
I shiver at the warmth that seeps from his palms into my flesh. Fresh goosebumps break out across my skin as my teeth really start to chatter now that we’ve stopped and he’s pointed out just how cold I am.
Shrugging out of his suit coat, he wraps me in it, surrounding me with his body heat and the masculine scent of his cologne. It makes my heart flutter despite my discomfort. Slipping my arms into the sleeves, I wrap the fabric around my body like a blanket.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he demands, his anger apparent as he scowls down at me.
“Because I was trying to suck it up!” I say defensively, my own temper rising when I’m already miserable and now he’s cross with me.
His eyes shift from my face down to the shoes I’m wearing, and once again, his expression morphs into deep concern. Without a word, he scoops me into his arms. I gasp at the sudden weightlessness that takes me back to that suspended moment in the car. Instinctually, my body tenses, and I cling to him until I rediscover my sense of gravity.
“What are you doing?” I demand as he begins walking again like I weigh little more than a sack of potatoes.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he counters, his frown returning as he keeps his eyes locked straight ahead.
Clearly, he would rather be doing anything but carrying me. And yet here he is, doing just that so I won’t slow him down. Biting my tongue, I accept the help as the heat from his chest and arms slowly warms me, easing the chattering of my teeth. My feet are so thankful to not be carrying me, I can’t find it in myself to argue or be hardheaded.
Instead, I murmur, “Thank you,” as I relax against him, my uninjured temple resting lightly on his shoulder. If he hears me, he shows no sign of it.
The steady sway of his steps and the warmth that seems to surround him slowly lulls me into a sleepy state, and despite myself, my eyelids start to grow heavy.
Then we stop.
Lifting my head, I look around and realize I must have fallen asleep for a moment because the scenery has changed. We’re no longer in the woods but at the mouth of a shallow cave carved into the hillside we’ve been following.
The tree line isn’t far from us, but Mishka seems to be studying the natural enclosure as he holds me carefully.
“I think we’ll stop here for the night. This will give us enough shelter until morning.” With that, Mishka steps inside the mouth of the cave and gently lowers me to the ground. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly,” he states, making my heart skip a beat.
“Where are you going?” I hate the way my voice quavers nervously.
