Page 92 of Where the Wind Whispers

She could do this for him.

Hours crept by as Kaz remained at his brother’s bedside. Men came and went, and after a few last reassurances from Rus’ doctors, Kaz had finally been able to convince Irina and the girls to leave. Alfie had reassured him with a clap on the shoulder that he would take care of them, even convincing Violet that she and the baby needed to come as well.

Now, he was alone, left with the guilt of the choice he’d made.

And that guilt, that all-consuming emotion, was only made worse because he still didn’t regret the decision he made, not as he was hearing the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor connected to Rus.

How many times had he thought Rus was infallible?

This wasn’t the first time Rus had been shot, not even the second, and more damage had been done to his body than anyone could fathom—what was once more? The question had plagued him relentlessly as he raced across the city and even when he slammed on the brakes and hopped out of his car.

That fear …

He wondered if Rus had felt the same when he found him all those months ago, a breath away from death. Did he feel as helpless as Kaz felt when he’d come upon his body, his blood staining the asphalt, thin lines of red streaking down the street?

But even seeing him there, he knew he would have made the same choice because hearing Anastasya’s wails and even Violet’s cries had felt like music to his ears.

They were alive.

And selfishly, that was all that had mattered to him then.

Now, knowing that Rus would be okay and that infection was all they had to worry about while he healed, Kaz allowed himself to feel the guilt of his actions and the ramifications of his choice.

Once Rus woke up, he would have to explain what had happened, and he wasn’t looking forward to his brother’s reaction.

“Sir!”

Kaz glanced up a second before Nathaniel—the man who ran Rus’ club, and his sometimes lover—appeared in the doorway, his gaze barely landing on Kaz before he was looking for Rus.

Four years Kaz had known the man, and not once had he ever seen such a broken expression on the man’s face. He had always been so careful, Rus too really, never showing anything as to their relationship because of how others would react.

Especially Vasily.

Had he known about Nathaniel, Vasily would have made it a point to make an example out of him.

For one unguarded moment, Nathaniel looked at Rus the way Kaz knew he looked at Violet. Kaz didn’t interrupt, giving the man as much privacy as he could by turning away, though he did not intend to leave his seat.

A second, maybe two, passed before Nathaniel cleared his throat. “How is he?”

When Kaz looked back, all traces of emotion were gone from his expression. They weren’t the only ones feeling the pressure of battles both won and lost. “Stable. He’s got at least another week in here. They want to make sure he stays clear of infection.”

Nathaniel dug his hands into his pockets, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “You didn’t have to call me.”

Kaz shrugged, patting his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he had on him. “I would like to think that if the positions were reversed, he would make sure Violet was here.”

“It’s not—”

“No worries,” Kaz said before the other man could finish, getting to his feet. “Your secret has always been safe with me. I need a smoke, so I’ll give you some time. There are a few of my men out here already, but anybody who even looks remotely Italian tries to come in this room, you have my blessing.”

He had given his men the same order.

Taking the elevator down to the front entrance of the hospital, he stepped out the door, immediately stepping over to his left where the lights couldn’t reach. When he got that first big inhale, burning nicotine saturating his lungs, he felt a bit of that pressure inside his head dissipate.

A plan.

That was what he needed.

Until now, he had been playing defense, waiting for the moment Alberto made a move against him to strike out. Now, he needed to take a page out of his father-in-law’s book and hit him where it hurt.