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As in, the only mature one who didn’t take part in the watching or the fighting. Maksim, who was the first to quarrel, insists on joining Yuri.
They’re both here, but their closest friend isn’t.
I know because I scanned the crowd earlier, and there was no sign of her fucking presence.
Not that I expected her to come back after what she’s done.
The doctor insists that I need rest, so Viktor kicks everyone out—Karina and Anna included, though he does use more diplomatic methods with them.
Once it’s only the two of us, he clicks the door shut and stands by my side like some fallen angel.
“Didn’t you hear the doctor?” I speak like I’ve gained a few decades of age. “I need rest. Pretty sure that means you should leave, too.”
He glares down at me. “What happened after we separated? Who did this to you?”
Interesting.
When I woke up to find myself in New York, I was sure that Viktor had followed me, saved me, and brought me back here. But according to his words just now, that wasn’t the case.
Was that dream where a soft voice was calling my name and crying not a dream, after all?
“How much do you know?” I ask instead of answering him.
“Nothing except that the fucker Lipovsky somehow got you to the hospital and called me from there.”
My eyes narrow.
What does that mean? She had no reason to take me to the hospital after she led those men to ambush me.
The thoughts that plagued me when I was getting shot weren’t losing my life, my ambition, or leaving everyone I cared about here unprotected. It was the very fact that she’d betrayed me.
And for one foolish moment, I actually lost all fight and surrendered to the implications of that knowledge.
But that moment has ended. That foolish, sentimental, absolutely illogical part of me was killed by those two bullets.
“Is he behind this?” Viktor insists. “Give me an order. Anything.”
“I want you to turn Russia inside out. Find him.”
His brow creases as if he hasn’t heard me right. “Why would I do that? He came back with us.”
My lips fall open. “He’s…here?”
Viktor nods slowly, still appearing bemused.
That doesn’t make sense. Why would she accompany me back to New York after that stunt? If she thinks she can fool me, I swear to fuck—
Pain throbs in my chest. Maybe the doctor needs to give me more painkillers so I can deal with this situation more efficiently.
“Is he not supposed to be here?” my guard asks in his usual suspicious tone.
“Where is he? He wasn’t with the others just now.”
“Probably training and punching things. He’s been doing that a lot since we came back. And you didn’t answer any of my questions. Did Lipovsky have a hand in what happened to you?”
The short answer is yes, but if I give it to Viktor, he’ll torture and kill Lipovsky without giving it a second thought.
It’s not that easy and can’t be that easy.
I’m the only one who’s allowed to deal with her.
No one but me.
So I shake my head.
“If it wasn’t him, then who was it?” Viktor asks.
“Mercenaries.” I tell him part of the truth. “They had masks on, but I recognized them from the way they handled their weapons. They could have been my father’s enemies or my own from the army.”
“I will look into this.”
I nod in agreement. “Make it discreet. I don’t want anyone else to dig into this incident.”
“Could it be your mother?”
“She’s not the type who sullies her hands.”
“Konstantin, maybe?”
“Maybe.”
Viktor clears his throat. “He…has been here every day since we landed in New York. It looked like he was consoling Miss Karina, but he visited even when she wasn’t here.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back. Viktor’s words barely register. It’s not my newfound life, my siblings, or my men who are occupying my thoughts.
It’s that bitter taste of betrayal that’s been clogging my throat since the moment I was shot.
That fucking taste is the worst medicine I’ve ever swallowed, and it nearly made me lose all my power.
But it didn’t.
I’m here now, even as I continue to swallow that god-awful taste with each passing second.
“I’ll leave you to rest,” Viktor announces. “If you need anything, I have three of our best men guarding your room. Just click the intercom button, and they will be here. If you need me personally, call me.”
I nod, still closing my eyes and seeing blood red. In the middle of the snow. The stark contrast makes my head dizzy.
“Boss.”
“Hmm?”
“Lipovsky’s here. He must’ve heard about you waking up.”
My eyes open slowly but pointedly. I stare at Viktor, who’s at the door, waiting for a reply.
Behind that door stands the woman because of whom I’m experiencing this irrational burning pain. And I’m not talking about the physical discomfort from the wound. That doesn’t compare to the constant squeezing in my injured heart.
