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"Just get in," she shouts. "Before the rest of them figure it out!"
"You're a fucking angel." Katya and Ruslan climb inside the car. I join them, clutching Galina in my lap in the backseat. Her chest rises and falls erratically, her breathing more tremor than air.
"Galina, do you hear me? Galina?" Carefully I remove her hand from where it clutches her ribs. The wound gushes—I flatten my palm on top with a hiss. "Go, Mila! Get us to a hospital now!'
She takes off, sending sludge everywhere as the car's tires spin. For an awful moment I think we're stuck in the mud. The vehicle jostles, twists, then we're tearing over the ground onto the cracked street. The gunfire continues in the distance, I can hear it long after we're around the curve in the road.
"There’s a lot of blood," Katya whispers, looking worriedly at me. Ruslan cranes his neck from the front passenger seat. His eyebrows contort tightly, his jaw shaking as he bites back tears. I think he's trying his best to be brave. Is it for himself, or for Galina?
Linking my fingers in Galina's with my other hand, I kiss her forehead. She's clammy, cold as ice. The only part of her that's warm is the endlessly seeping wound. Her lashes flutter like the wings of a moth struggling in a spider's web.
"Arsen?" she whispers weakly.
"Yes, ptichka?" I fight back the hot pressure of devastated tears. "You made it. We’re going to the hospital now."
Her smile takes a full five seconds to form. I hate how pale her lips are. "You'll take care of them, right?"
I tense up. "Take care of who?"
She swallows. "Mom and Ruslan. Someone has to make sure they're alright, they don't have anyone else."
"Don’t," I scold her gently. "Don’t you dare say your goodbyes right now."
Galina turns slightly, her eyes finally clearing enough to focus on mine. She lifts her hand, wincing as she does it. When she tries to reach my face, she starts to shake—I grip her hand, pressing it to my cheek, and she sighs in appreciation. "Thank you for everything."
"Don't," I whisper.
"You should show her the cabin," she says, her voice getting quieter, each word a struggle. "Mom would love to see that lake."
"Galina, stop talking like this is the end!"
"I love you, Arsen. Through everything that happened... I never stopped. Not once. I need you to know that."
"Galina—"
"Tell me you believe me."
I breathe in shakily. There's something thick in my throat making my voice raspy. "I believe you."
She smiles sweetly before shutting her eyes.
"You're going to live, Galina. I love you and you're going to make it! You and our baby both. Okay? Do you hear me?"
She doesn't respond.
"Galina?" Katya asks nervously.
I roar at Mila until my neck twinges from the force of my distress. "Can’t you go any faster?"
"I’m going as fast as I can!" she assures me. "Almost there!"
The sirens are blaring. Nobody blocks us as we speed into the parking lot of the hospital, the entire vehicle jolting violently as Mila slamming on the brakes.
I move in a nightmarish haze. The world around me transforms into a blur, like someone has smeared Vaseline over my eyes. I carry Galina into the hospital, yelling over and over for a doctor, not stopping when my voice shatters into razors that slice my vocal cords apart.
A sea of scrubs rush at me. Two of them take Galina, setting her gently onto a stretcher. It's just like the one I was strapped to when Yevgeniy's men kidnapped me. The sight of it sends a cold ball of dread sinking through my gut. I can't get a full breath, can't decide if I want to rip her away from these strangers or beg them to wheel her away.
I'm robbed of the choice when they begin to move her towards a set of double doors. I'm following, until a hand grips my shoulder, forcing me backwards. I nearly backhand them, recognizing Mila at the last second. Her face is grave, commanding me to stay.
