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Her expression brightened somewhat.
“Oh,” she said.
“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right,” he agreed, almost tutting her for her lack of faith. “The Gregors we shoot in the back of the head, though,” he added, letting her hand go.
He straightened his leg out again, teeth clenched at the streak of pain that shot from the wound into his hip and down to his toes.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Do you want some more?” she asked, nodding to the bowl still half-full of water and herbs.
She didn’t wait for an answer, getting to her feet to grab the glass. Once filled she brought it over to him, watching him as he drank. His eyes went to hers, trying not to let them drift down to her mouth.
He failed.
A small smile drew over her lips. She didn’t keep eye contact, glancing down at the carpet, surprisingly bashful. She must have been as surprised by that kiss as he’d been. A moment of passion, a momentary lapse in judgment.
He reached out a hand again, this time sliding his fingertips over her neck, into her hair. She closed her eyes at the touch, letting out a softly trembling breath, turning to him as he leaned forward. Their lips were seconds from touching again when a gunshot shattered the stillness.
They both turned their attention on the door, then back at each other, exchanging a look before they pulled apart.
He got to his feet with another wince, but this time he could stand on the leg. The herbs were beginning to work their magic.
Another gunshot was fired. A shout and the sound of a body thudding to the floor. One of the guards outside their door had been hit. More gunshots, then the sound of receding shouts as the guard left standing gave chase.
He quickly limped to the door, Alina getting off the bed.
“Where are you going now?” she hissed.
“Into the hallway,” he said as meaningfully as before.
Where did she think he was going?
“Stop,” she whispered.
He didn’t listen. This was his chance.
He opened the door a crack, grateful they were too arrogant or too stupid to keep it locked. The man on the floor was either dead or out cold. He didn’t care. He looked for the weapon that should be dropped somewhere near him. He couldn’t see it.
“Dmitri,” Alina said behind him.
“Stay here,” he said.
“No.”
“Stay here, please,” he repeated.
She was frustrated but adhered as he slipped out through the door.
Chapter 9 - Alina
What could she possibly do? She wrapped her arms around herself again, staring at the door, willing it to open and for him to walk back through it. He was being so stupid. He was going to get himself shot again. What was it with men and their daredevil antics? If only her father hadn’t been such a dick and she could’ve told Dmitri all they needed to do was sit tight and wait for the cavalry to arrive. But no. Of course, he now had to risk his life. For what, exactly? What did he think he was going to accomplish by himself against a house full of trained hitmen?
Then again, the first shot had been fired at the guards.
Someone was out there who might help. Misha? He seemed loyal.
It was taking too long. It was too quiet. She was too alone.
