Page 202 of Barinov

“Honey, you all are my family. I wasn’t about to let anything bad happen to him. I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” Sabine leans down, presses a kiss to Bella’s forehead, and squeezes my hand once.

“Thanks.” I nod, smiling up at her.

Sabine pauses briefly to glance back at us as she nears the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Bella doesn’t wait for the door to close before she’s wrapping me up tighter. “You scared me half to death,” she cries into my chest.

“I’m all good,” I say as another cough breaks loose.

She pulls back, her steel-gray eyes squinting as they narrow on me. “You sure?”

“I will be once we get out of this damn hospital,” I grit out.

She lets out a soft, broken chuckle. “We will.”

“So,” I press. “What happened?”

“Zeke, I think we should wait until you’re fully healed before we get into all of that.”

“No!” The word tears out of my throat in a jagged roar, making Bella flinch. I lean forward, ignoring the pull of the wires. “Tell me what happened while I was shoved in that fucking basement. Where is he? Where are they?”

“Luca’s dead,” she blurts out. Her chin raises but her eyes stay cold. “Lex killed him.”

For a moment, I just stare at her. The words refusing to compute as they hit my ears.

Luca is dead.

The man who owned my heartbeat for over nine hundred days and whose footsteps I could track through solid floorboards. The one whose touch could flip from a soft caress to a chokehold in a single breath.

Gone.

A strange tightness settles over my ribs. It’s heavy, suffocating, and terrifyingly close to grief. I hate myself for it instantly. Because for one split-second, news of the death of that monster doesn’t bring me joy or peace.

It brings me sadness.

No. Remember who you are.

Ezekiel Malik Blackwood.

Bella’s fingers tighten around mine, her eyes widening as they search my face. “Zeke?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, dragging a hand over my mouth.

Part of me feels lighter than I have in years. Like I can finally take a full breath without wondering what he’ll do next. But another part keeps expecting the door handle to rattle and his shadow to fall across the threshold.

“Ivan?” I choke out. “What about Ivan?”

“After he poisoned you, he ran,” Bella admits, her expression grim. “Tex and the guys searched everywhere but no sign of him.”

My stomach twists into a hard, sick knot. “Damn.”

Knock. Knock.

Bella’s head snaps to the door.

“It’s open,” I call out.

Marisol strides into the room in black leather pants that look like they were stitched onto her perfect long legs. A pink lacy crop peeks out underneath her signature leather Los Cuervos jacket. Her black and pink waves are curled to perfection in a flawless, high ponytail.