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I shove my weapon into her hands, ordering, “Shoot anyone who’s a threat.” Bending, I pick her up bridal style before I walk to the opening and jump off.
Turning my head to the right, I see Alek standing with Abbie cowering against him. Her face is beaten so severely there’s blood everywhere.
I carry Aurora closer to them, but when she sees her friend, she struggles out of my hold and runs to her, leaving a bloody footprint on the gravel.
“Abbie,” Aurora screams with intense relief before she rips her friend away from Alek, engulfing her in a hug. “They told me you were dead.”
Abbie doesn’t move to hold Aurora but just stands still as if she’s in a shocked daze. It takes a moment before she whimpers, “It hurts, Ra-Ra.”
Aurora pulls back, and the next moment Nikolai darts past us, sweeping Abbie up in his arms. She lets out a sob and breaks down against his chest. She wraps her arms around him as if he’s the only thing standing between her and certain death.
Okayyy?
I’m even more surprised that Caruso and Emilio don’t check on their daughters.
The fuckers.
“Let’s get them back to St. Monarch’s,” I order.
I signal for Armani to come to us before I lift Aurora into my arms. I don’t want her walking on her tortured foot.
“Where the fuck are you going with our daughters?” Caruso hollers.
Before I can tell him to fuck off, Aurora shouts, “I’m going to St. Monarch’s. Just because you made peace with the bratva doesn’t mean I’m okay with everything.”
“You will come to me,” Caruso orders.
“You’ll have to pry her from my dead arms,” I growl. When I turn around and walk toward the back of the trainyard where the vehicles are, I hear Director Koslov say, “Don’t do anything stupid, Caruso. You’re still outnumbered. Aurora and Abbie will receive the best medical attention at St. Monarch's.”
Done with this place, I walk toward the vehicles.
“Thank you,” Aurora breathes against my neck. “For coming to get me.”
“I’ll always come for you,moy malen'kiy olen'.”
Chapter 38
Aurora
Sitting on a bed in the infirmary, my eyes keep darting to Misha, who’s unnaturally quiet.
“Misha,” I say to get his attention.
The doctor doesn’t stop cleaning my butchered toes, and it takes a moment before Misha lifts his eyes to mine.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Another couple of seconds pass before he nods, turning his gaze back to the doctor, who’s now busy wrapping a bandage around my foot.
As soon as the doctor is done, he says, “I’ll give you something for the pain, but you’ll be okay. The nails should grow back in six to ten months.”
“Can I go?” I ask to make sure there are no other checks he wants to do on me.
He nods, “Just take it easy for a couple of days. No heavy training.”
“Okay.” I smile at the doctor as I slip off the bed, careful not to put any pressure on my right foot. “Thank you.”
Misha darts forward, and I’m swept up into his arms.
