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“Alex!” I aim blindly in front of me.
The men don’t stop. Grunts follow the dull thuds of their fists as they rain punches down on one another. Alex is on top. He gets in a blow that sends Besov’s face flying sideways. A jet of blood flies from Besov’s mouth and paints a red streak over the snow. Besov jams a fist into Alex’s injured side. Alex howls, his head thrown back. It gives Besov a chance to fling Alex around, reversing their positions. Cartilage cracks as he slams a fist into Alex’s nose.
I don’t have a clear shot. If I pull the trigger, I may kill Alex. Aiming the gun in the air, I fire.
Pop!
The gunfire echoes in the space. A flock of birds lifts from the trees in the forest and rises noisily into the sky.
Both men freeze. I slide to the bottom of the embankment on my ass, lifting my feet to prevent my heels from digging into the snow and stopping me.
With Alex momentarily distracted, Besov breaks free. Instead of running up or down the embankment, he beelines straight for the frozen river. When he’s halfway across, far enough to feel safe from my amateur aim, he stops.
One of his eyes is swollen shut and his lip is split, but that doesn’t prevent a mocking smile from curving his lips. “You may get away now, but I’ll be back for you.” His voice rings out over the expanse. “You’ll never sleep soundly again. That’s my gift to both of you.” He blows me a kiss before resuming his escape, this time walking at a mockingly normal pace.
My vision goes hazy. It’s like a scene from a movie where the bad guy gets away. You look at the screen, waiting, because no one deserves to live in fear, but then the screen turns black, the music plays, and the credits roll. I watch it happening now, see our future like a spectator who looks on from the safety of her sofa. I see Igor’s unconscious form in the ER and the bullet the doctor extracted, the bullet the bodyguard had taken for Alex. I see Alex on that bed, no longer breathing, his blue eyes no longer alert. I see myself, my mom, Joanne, my friends, and everyone else Besov will use to get to us. Because he won’t stop. Not unless I stop him.
Without another thought, I aim at his feet and pull the trigger.
Stopping, he shoots a surprised look at me from over his shoulder. A moment of silence follows as the smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils. Alex moves in my peripheral vision. I don’t know if he’s telling me to back down or calm down, but I don’t do either as Besov’s laugh tears through the air.
I pull the trigger again. The ice around his feet cracks. His laugh dies. The sound drifts away with the snow.
Crack.
He stiffens, his eyes widening.
It’s too late.
The frozen layer gives. It breaks. His weight pulls him down.
A beat passes. And another. My heart slams against my ribs, each thud painful. Another second ticks into nothingness, but Besov doesn’t surface.
The ice that cracked is now in my veins.
I killed someone. I didn’t shoot him, but I pulled the trigger. And I’m not sorry. I’m not sure what shocks me most. That I did it or that I don’t feel remorse.
“Katerina!”
I look toward the sound of that voice. Alex is making his way through the snow, using his hands for purchase on the steep part.
Just as he reaches me, my legs buckle. The gun drops from my hand as I go down.
He falls onto his knees next to me, grabbing my face between his hands. “Katerina, look at me. Look at me, my love. Stay with me. Stay with me, damn you. I’ll get you out of here.”
I fight to comply, but the screen is fading, the credits already rolling.
“It’s a happy ending,” I whisper as he holds me to his chest.
He smiles down at me, looking at me as if it’s the last time he’ll see me. He seems like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes a hand over my forehead and says in the saddest voice I’ve ever heard, “Yes.” He seals it with a tender kiss. “It is.”
Yes.
It was.
38
Alex
The room of the private clinic in St. Petersburg is basked in the dusk of day. The ceiling light is set on dim so as not to disturb Katerina. Her face is pale on the pillow, the same color as the white linen.
Placing a hand over hers where it lies on top of the covers, I study her like I’ve done for the past four hours. Her eyes move behind her lids as in a deep sleep, and her breath tickles the fine, almost invisible hair on her skin as she exhales.
