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But there is also peace.
I sense it from how he breathes … the pace of our hearts, the sparkles in our eyes.
When did this happen?
When did I fall back in love with this man?
The tinge of satisfaction from what we’ve done is leaving me slowly. I’m becoming aware of how hard the ground is under my hips. The heat of the computers thrumming around us is no longer steamy, but suffocating. In spite of reality returning to take hold, my heart remains in the clutch of love.
In his clutches.
Arsen smiles at me, his large arms folded behind his head like a pillow. He opens his mouth to say something. Laying my fingers over his lips, as if I’m pressing a stamp to an envelope, I keep him from speaking.
It’s my turn.
“Don’t talk. Not unless it’s to answer this.” He waits patiently, his eyes twin beacons that shine with curiosity. “Come back to me, Arsen.”
I wait.
It’s half a second, but it’s enough to make my heart constrict.
Please promise, please promise, please.
If you can’t do this much, then ...
“I will.” Arsen holds my hand, keeping it against his mouth. He kisses my fingers twice. “I promise.”
I want it to make me feel better. I hoped it would.
Arsen has promised me many things in our time together. He’s kept his word more than enough to prove he’s a man who takes what he says seriously.
But it doesn’t matter. Not this time. Arsen is many things, but he isn’t a god.
He doesn’t have the power to control if he lives or dies.
24
GALINA
The sun is setting when he leaves. Our goodbye is brief, too brief, both of us lingering by the front door as he checks his guns under his jacket. He’s counting bullets. Dutifully making sure the safety is on and that his weapons are where he wants them in easy reach. He flips them out multiple times, testing his speed before holstering again. Meticulous to his core.
Arsen is going to save my mother. Last time he tried, he came back injured.
This time he could come back in a casket.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing his wrist on impulse. He’s cracked the door, letting crisp air that warns of a winter storm creep inside the house. It feels like a bad omen. I grip him tighter. “Take Mila.”
He shakes his head patiently, like he’s already explained why he can’t. “She’s still recovering.”
“At least take some backup?—”
“I told you, the fewer people I bring, the better.” His eyes grow big and gentle. “Galina, I know you’re nervous. But this is the best way to do this.”
The best way would be to clear the air before I lose my chance.
If you die before I tell you everything ... the guilt ... the shame ...
It will drag me straight to hell.
