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Because I’d been shot?
Because I’d just seen two men killed right in front of me?
Because I’d just found out I had a father, but he’d turned out to be some monster?
Because the man I loved, whom I hadn’t seen in weeks, had just turned my entire existence inside out?
I didn’t know, and the world was starting to go dark around the edges, so I really couldn’t analyze it much.
“Tavia.” Theo’s voice held so much authority, and it commanded I look at him.
I blinked my eyes, trying to focus on his perfect, masculine face I’d always been fascinated with. Those deep-set eyes, that perfect Cupid’s bow mouth. High cheekbones. Square jaw. The weeks’ worth of beard growth was new, but I liked it a lot on him. It made him look older than twenty-one.
“Don’t die on me, krasotka. Do you hear me? Don’t fucking die.” His fingers trembled as he cupped the side of my face with his free hand.
“I’m s-s-s-o c-c-cold, Theo,” I told him, fighting the tiredness that was suddenly pressing down on me, praying I didn’t vomit from the pain.
“I know, krasotka. I know. I’ll get you warm as soon as I can, baby. Just don’t leave me.”
A sad laugh escaped me as more tears fell. “But you want me to leave you,” I mused aloud, and he flinched. “You don’t want me.”
“Don’t say shit you know nothing about, Tavia,” he snapped, but his touch was so gentle when he wiped away my tears that more fell. “Just a little longer. We’re almost there.”
“I really thought you loved me,” I whispered as my lashes began to close.
“Tavia!” He shouted my name, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t open my eyes for him.
Chapter 4
Theo
I ran into the ER with Tavia unconscious in my arms, and the medical staff worked quickly. One second, she was right there in front of me, only inches away. The next, they were wheeling her into a trauma bay and I was being told to stay back so they could treat her.
Five minutes later, she was being transported up to surgery. The bullet was still in her gut, but who knew what kind of damage it had done in there.
A nurse escorted me to the OR waiting room, Yury and Ivan following behind, always watching my back. I should have been making phone calls already. To my Pops and uncles. To my connection with the cops. There were at least ten people I needed to speak to, and quickly, but I couldn’t concentrate on that. Not when my Tavia was fighting for her life.
Petrov’s people were going to be after me now. I’d known that risk when I’d put all this shit in motion. Knew that I would be on some extremely ruthless people’s lists for a little while until I took charge of Petrov’s assets. He had a brother who would want to step in, who would be after my head.
I knew the kind of vengeance the man would want. It was what I had been seeking when I went after Viktor, so I would be disappointed if his brother didn’t want the same thing.
But things were different now. For one, Tavia had been dragged into the middle of this war, and I still couldn’t completely comprehend that twist of fate.
My sweet, beautiful, good-down-to-her-soul Tavia was the daughter of one of the vilest monsters ever to walk the earth. It didn’t seem possible that the two of them shared DNA. I wanted to deny it, but the look on Viktor’s face told me he wasn’t playing.
And the motherfucker just stood there while someone touched his daughter.
I tried to keep my cool when Yerik put his hands on Tavia. I tried so fucking hard. But then he’d pinched her nipple, and the memory of how ripe that nipple had tasted in my mouth only weeks before had flooded back, and I’d lost it.
I shot the bastard without thinking, and then I’d done what I’d gone there to do in the first place.
Killed Viktor.
It wasn’t the up close and personal death I wanted for him, but there was no way I was going to leave there without taking him out.
His men started shooting as soon as I put the first bullet in him, but it wasn’t me they were aiming at. It was Tavia. As I turned to get her, I watched as a bullet pierced her abdomen and the blood began to seep from her, soaking through her shirt.
“Cops are here, boss,” Ivan muttered.
