Page 35 of Dark King Daddy

Lev remained in his chair, bent forward. Two dark holes marked his white shirt through the abdomen. Blood soaked the fabric and ran onto his trousers.

The rear service door stood open.

Leonid was gone.

Anton saw it too.

“Gusev.”

He ran through the rear passage.

Ksenia entered behind me and made a sound.

Not a scream. Smaller. Worse.

“Papa.”

She dropped beside Mikhail.

I went to Lev.

His chair shifted as I caught him beneath the arms and lowered him to the floor. His blood covered my hands almost at once. Hot. Too much.

“Father.”

His eyes found me.

They were clear.

That frightened me more than panic would have.

“Pressure,” I said, though there was no one to instruct except myself.

I ripped open his shirt. One round had entered below the ribs. The second sat lower. Neither wound was clean. Blood welled beneath my palms when I pressed down.

Across the room, Ksenia pulled the linen cloth from the table. Glasses struck the floor. One shattered.

She tore the cloth with both hands, braced one folded section against Mikhail’s chest, and pressed.

“Papa. Look at me.”

Mikhail’s breath caught.

Ksenia leaned over him. Her hair fell forward, hiding part of her face. Blood spread across the white linen beneath her hands.

“Stay with me. Anton is coming back.”

Mikhail tried to speak.

“No,” she said. “Save your breath.”

The woman who had challenged my security at the entrance was gone. The strategist at dinner was gone.

This was a daughter on her knees in her father’s blood. My father coughed. Blood touched his lower lip.

“Danya.”

“I’m here.”