Page 167
“Baby?” Sergei whispers but I’m still lying there, soaked in a man’s blood I promised to kill when I first saw Sergei’s scars. Trembling and smiling.
The door bursts open with a loud bang just as Sergei cups my face in his hands, grounding me. Through the haze, I register Roman and Alec rushing in.
Sergei shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around me, pulling me into him like he’s afraid I might disappear.
“I’m so sorry, solnyshko. I’m sorry.” He almost sobs but I’m shaking my head even as my body trembles in his arms.
“You’re safe.” I tell him, a lone tear rolling down my eyes. “No one is going to hurt you anymore, Sergei.” I kiss his cheek.
And just like that, I’ll kill myself before my existence can cause him any harm.
We stay there for a while, breathing each other’s scent in, as if we can erase everything that just happened.
I want to believe it’s over but I still feel Vasily’s hands on my body, even though he’s lying right next to me, breathing on borrowed air, his chest barely moving but I know life hasn’t left him.
Sergei kisses my cheeks, my forehead, his own hands quaking and cold, so cold, his eyes have a dazed look in them.
“Sergei?” I call out, but his lips are pressed to my forehead.
I look up to find Roman staring down at me as Alec drags Vasily’s lifeless body out of the cage, leaving behind a slow trail of blood.
“He’s safe.” I mumble and Roman nods, his blue eyes burning with rage and pain, yet so much respect—for me.
When I sense no movement from Sergei, I turn to look at him, his eyes are shut and his chest is barely moving.
“Sergei?” My voice comes out smaller than I expect, fragile, like it might shatter if I push it any louder.
Nothing.
Panic crashes in all at once.
“Roman!” I choke out, the word breaking halfway through. “S-Sergei, he’s not breathing.”
THIRTY-NINE
Sergei
“Hey!”
I hear a soothing, familiar voice. A warm, soft hand caressing my cheek causing me to open my eyes.
“Hey.” My throat works a few times before the word spills out and she smiles. There are dark circles under her eyes as if she hasn’t slept in days.
Her smile is wavering at the edges, a small blueish-yellow bruise forming under her right eye.
“How are you feeling?” Her voice breaks softly, like glass under pressure.
“Good, now that I can touch you.” My hand hovers over her skin, aching for contact. I need her.
I need her right now, forever.
“I’ll call the doctor.”
“N-no, don’t go.”
She nods sensing the panic in my voice. Her thumb brushes over my knuckles, like she’s anchoring me to something stronger than the drugs flooding my system.
Darkness keeps pulling me under, but I force my eyes open, my eyelids feeling heavier by the minute and I try to vie against the urge to close them and fail.
