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Tears flood her crystal-blue eyes, and a sob rips up Alina’s throat. She flings her arms around my neck, removing the last of the space between us. My chest tightens, my heart squeezing at the broken sound of her crying. But it feels impossibly good to hold her in my arms again, to feel the life coursing through her body.
I wasn’t sure I would ever get the opportunity again.
So, as she clings to me, shaking like a leaf, I pull her close, cradling her against my chest. She’s ice cold, and a fresh wave of fury washes through me as I realize she must have been freezing all night after wearing so few layers in this poor excuse for shelter.
“Shh, zlyuchka. I’ve got you,” I promise, keeping one arm wrapped around her as I shrug out of my leather jacket.
She shivers as I wrap it around her shoulders, guiding her arms into the sleeves.
“Let’s take you home, yeah?” I murmur against her ear, stroking her silken locks as I tuck her firmly against my chest once more.
She nods, the cold tip of her nose brushing against my neck, but her arms refuse to release me. A smile tugs at my lips despite the gravity of the situation. Every fiber of my being yearns to keep Alina close right now, and it would seem that despite the ugly truth that lies between us, nothing is going to keep her away from me right now.
Gathering Alina in my arms, I pick her up, wrapping her legs around my waist and supporting her hips like one might a sleeping child. She clings to me, seeming more than willing to hold on despite the constant tremors that run through her figure and rattle my teeth. It feels so good to hold her, to know she’s safe and sound, if not in the best shape.
Digging into my pocket, I retrieve my phone and dial Viktor.
“I’ve got her,” I say as soon as he comes on the line. “She’s alive.”
A sigh crackles across the line, the same level of relief clear in her brother’s heavy breath. “Where was she?”
“Halfway out the door, by the looks of it.” I chuckle darkly, realizing for the first time that Alina must have escaped if I found her alone in the hallway near the stairs. “I don’t know where they were keeping her—or if they’re still here.”
Alina shakes her head without lifting it from my neck.
“I think they were making a break for it, and Alina managed to get away.”
A nod, and my chest swells with pride. My girl’s a spitfire, all right. She saw an opportunity to bolt and took it. But why were they running? Did they see us coming and think they couldn’t defend their position? That seems unlikely based on the guys we fought outside Plastique last night.
“Blyat,” Viktor growls, fiery vengeance in his tone. “At least we got Alina back, but I would have loved to catch the bastards who thought they could take my sister. We can hunt them down later. Meet us out front. We should take her home.”
Viktor hangs up without confirming, and I slip my phone back into my pocket before turning toward the emergency exit.
Alina doesn’t say a word as I carry her down the putrid-smelling stairwell, through the first floor of the condemned apartment complex, and back out the front door. I try not to let the concern eat away at me, the fear that she’s been so traumatized she might not speak again. At least her trembling has subsided some, and she now relaxes against me, her limbs heavy with exhaustion as they barely support her weight.
Viktor’s sharp gray eyes find us as soon as we step into the late-afternoon sunshine, and a hint of suspicion flickers in his gaze. But right now, I don’t care. Alina’s not letting go of me, and that suits me just fine.
“You okay, kid?” Viktor asks, gently petting her golden hair. His eyes trail over his sister’s back, searching for any visible injuries.
Alina just nods against my neck, her arms tensing around me.
Shaking his head, Viktor opens the car door, and everyone piles in.
“I’ve gotta put you down, Alina,” I murmur as they all wait for us to climb inside.
She shakes her head adamantly, her arms tightening until she’s practically choking me. Viktor just rolls his eyes and signals for me to get in. Fighting to hold back a smile, I shift my grip on Alina so her legs dangle over one of my arms. Cradling her against my chest, I awkwardly slide onto the bench seat and settle her on my lap.
The Escalade’s motor rumbles to life, and Lenka pulls out onto the street. As we drive back toward the city, Viktor steals glances at me from his periphery without addressing his now-apparent suspicion.
“You didn’t get a good look at anyone?” he asks me finally.
“I didn’t see anyone else in the hallway by the time I got there,” I say.
Viktor’s eyes shift to Alina, like he wants to question her. But he seems to think better of it, and I’m glad. Her face is still buried in my neck, her quivering arms locked around me like her life depends on it. I keep one arm firmly wrapped around her as I run my other palm over her back, creating soft, soothing circles.
At least her temperature seems to be creeping back toward normal. She’s not shaking nearly as violently now.
The thought brings me back to our night out camping in the woods—after our car took a tumble off that cliff—and how desperately cold she got then too. The girl doesn’t have enough meat on her bones for situations like these.
