Page 171 of Cruel Demands

“You think?”

“I’m not a doctor, but I think, yes.”

A doctor who has followed us into the room steps forward. “Take her,” Mikhail says.

“Mikhail,” I protest.

His eyes close. His forehead lowers to mine. For several seconds, he only breathes. His hands settle against my stomach. The baby moves beneath them.

Mikhail’s breath catches. “There.” He opens his eyes. Nikita stands beside us. Only then does he see the blood dried along the side of her face. “Mama.”

“I am fine.”

“You were struck.”

“I have survived worse.”

He reaches for her without releasing me. His hand closes around hers. She squeezes once. My chest aches for all the bloodshed and hurt this family has endured.

Then I look past him. Olga is standing near the doorway. Her cream suit is stained at one cuff. Her face looks gray.

And behind Mikhail is a chair with Orlov still in it. I recognize him from the photographs. His head has fallen forward. His hands hang behind him. There is a tie loose around his throat.

My chest tightens. Mikhail feels me go still. “Taylor.”

I step around him, and he lets me. Orlov doesn’t move. The room smells like blood. I don’t need to touch him. I don’t need to see his face. I know.

“You knew we were safe,” I say. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

“And then you killed him.”

“Yes.” No apology. No attempt to soften it.

Relief moves through me before horror can stop it. Orlov will never send another man to my apartment. He will never touch Nikita. He will never know my child. The relief makes me feel sick.

Behind us, voices grow louder in the corridor.

Another voice calls from farther down the hall. Someone is demanding Mikhail. Someone else is demanding Olga. The hospital is swallowing the private little world they made in this room.

Mikhail looks toward one of his men. “Move him.”

Olga turns sharply. Two of Mikhail’s men step toward Orlov. One grabs the chair. The other reaches for the tie around his wrists. “Stop,” Olga says. They don’t stop. Olga’s face hardens. “I said stop.”

Neither man even looks at her. They look at Mikhail.

Olga sees it, and so do I. “Mikhail,” she says, softer now. He doesn’t answer. “That body is evidence.”

Mikhail finally looks at her. “Then you have a decision to make.”

Her eyes narrow. “You think this is a negotiation?”

“I think everything is a negotiation.”

One of his men cuts the tie from Orlov’s wrists. Olga steps forward. “Do not move him out of this room.”

The men continue.