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From the moment Levin kicks it open, everything happens very quickly. I catch a glimpse of a naked, dark-haired woman passed out on a mattress, her hair covering her face, and although I can’t be certain that it’s Caterina, the sheer possibility of it is enough to spur an instinctive reaction in me that can likely only end with someone dead.
There are two men in the cabin, one stocky and the other lankier, and both of them recoil as we burst in. “Keep one of them alive to question,” I snap at Levin, and instantly their entire demeanor changes. It’s clear they can see that they’re outmatched and outgunned, and I can see the instance in which they both shift from the offensive to self-preservation.
“I didn’t fucking touch her!” the stocky one blurts out, his face paling. “It was all him. He’s the one who cut her up—”
“It wasn’t just me!” The lankier one reaches for something as if to grab a weapon, and in an instant, Levin fires a shot, hitting the smaller man’s kneecap and sending him shrieking to the floor.
“Just fucking take them both if you can,” I snarl, my gun leveled at the forehead of the stockier man. “We’ll sort it out later.”
There’s no doubt in my mind now that the woman on the bed is Caterina, and I turn away from the fight, trusting Levin and the others at our back to deal with the two men while I go to collect my wife. I don’t see a sign of anyone else at the cabin—clearly, whoever had ordered her abducted had thought two guards would be enough.
They’d clearly underestimated me.
No one fucking touches what’s mine and gets away with it.
There’s nothing on the bed to wrap her up in. I cast a glance around until I finally see a questionable blanket balled up in one corner of the room, shoved between the wall and a torn armchair. There’s no time, and so I grab it anyway, throwing it over her prone, still body and lifting her off of the bed.
“We’ll take the truck outside,” I shout, seeing that Levin and the others have the two men down on the floor, the stockier one on his knees with his hands up. The other curled on the floor, still moaning from the pain of his shattered kneecap. “Someone fucking hotwire it so we can get out of here.”
All of my concern is for Caterina. I can see her breathing shallowly—she’s still alive—but I’m not sure how thin the thread is that she’s hanging on by. I carry her out into the cold air, my chest constricting as I breathe in, forcing myself to believe that she’ll make it.
Levin leaps into the driver’s seat the moment the truck is hotwired, the growl of the engine filling the quiet forest air as the others pile in. One man is next to Levin, the others in the open bed with our two prisoners. I sit next to Caterina in the back, looking at her bone-white face as she lies there unconscious.
“We’ll go to the safe house,” I tell Levin sternly. “I know it’s a fair distance, but it’s the best option. As quickly as you can get us there.”
I’ve never been a religious man. But watching Caterina as she lies there, I’m almost tempted to pray for the first time in my life.
My wife is in grave danger.
* * *
It’spast midnight when Levin gets us to the safe house. It’s a cabin tucked well away in the woods, not unlike the one we just rescued Caterina from, with a large shed in the back. “Put both of them in the shed and make sure it’s secure,” I instruct sternly, jumping out of the truck and carefully reaching for Caterina. She’s barely moved for the entirety of the journey, only the very slight movement of her chest letting me know that she’s even still breathing. “I’m going to get in her inside.”
I take her directly to one of the bedrooms, carrying her up the steps and into the house bridal-style. The irony of it isn’t lost on me, but I don’t have time to be sentimental. I need to take stock of the situation, and the first part of that is what state Caterina is in.
I kick the door closed behind me as I carry her into the bedroom, laying her down carefully on top of the bed. I’m hesitant to unwrap the blanket around her, almost afraid of what I’ll see.
I’ve seen a lot in my lifetime, things tragic and horrific and vile, but seeing the tortured body of my wife is something else. I hadn’t thought anything could be worse than when I’d found Vera, but something about the state Caterina is in exceeds even that. Vera wasn’t mangled, but the sight when I pull back the blanket, prying it away from where it’s stuck to her body with dried blood as carefully as I’m able, makes my stomach turn over and my blood boil with a primal urge to go outside and rip both men in the shed from limb to limb.
In fact, one of the only reasons I don’t is because Caterina deserves to see it happen after what they’ve done to her.
From shoulders to ankles, her body is a mass of cuts, some shallow and others deeper. There’s hardly an inch of her skin that isn’t bruised, her body a rainbow of blue and black and purple, broken capillaries fanning out in a grotesque pattern over her skin. Only her face is mostly untouched, and even then, her lip is split and bruised, her jaw swollen and nose bleeding.
She’s barely hanging on. I can tell that much. She doesn’t make a sound when I touch her, or even move, her chest rising and falling with the most shallow of breaths. She needs a doctor, but I’m very afraid she won’t make it long enough for someone to get out here.
A heavy knock comes at the door, and I pull a quilt over her before answering it. The action feels surprisingly tender to me, striking a chord somewhere deep inside of me that I’m not sure I’ve felt before. Not even with Vera.
I don’t give myself a chance to think too hard about it. Instead, I open the door to see Levin standing there, his face set in hard lines. “They’re secure in the shed, sir. I have two of the men watching them.” He glances over my shoulder, a flicker of worry creasing the lines between his eyes. “How is she?”
“Not well.” My jaw tightens as I consider what to do next. “I need you to see how quickly we can get a doctor here that we can trust. And Max.”
“Max?” Levin raises an eyebrow, and I frown.
“Where else in Russia would you find a Catholic priest?”
“He’s not—”
“It’s close enough. Just do it.” I shut the door then, turning back to the bed. Levin won’t mind the brusque brush-off. He’s used to following orders. He and Mikhail are the only two I trust implicitly, and I hope that Mikhail is managing to keep Alexei in line back in New York.
