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“What for?” I definitely sound more casual than I feel.
“For staying alive.” She grins. “And for calling me Sasha again.”
I did?
Before I can reply, she clutches me by the arm. “Let’s go. I’ll get us safely to Yuri.”
And this fucking woman does exactly that.
11
SASHA
There are times in life when everything is uncertain.
Your beliefs.
Your purpose.
Your whole being.
However, in the middle of the blurry ambiguity stands something real. And that’s the only thing I currently believe in.
The one person because of whom I found another goal. The one person who motivates me to get out of bed in the morning and work harder on myself.
Even if he ignores me most of the time and only pays me stilted attention.
So I’m glad I let my instincts guide me and followed him after he ordered me to stay put.
When I made this decision, it wasn’t only because I insisted on being by his side, or that I’m still desperately trying to prove my loyalty. I truly had a horrible feeling the moment his car left the premises.
Karina came out of her room and celebrated the prospect of the two of us spending time together, but that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t bother with an excuse as I fetched my rifle, jumped into the car, and started driving.
I didn’t pay Maksim any attention when he banged on the window and told me to at least take him along. I had only one concern at the time—get to Kirill.
Turns out, it was a legitimate concern, because the moment I arrived at the site, it was a full-on war, and he was about to get killed.
It didn’t take us long to find Yuri since he was already following the GPS to locate Kirill. The car was shot a few times, but it remained functional.
Instead of leaving immediately, Kirill stayed put until he ensured the rest of the men were also retreating. Then we heard from Viktor that he’d sent the Mexicans back and told their leader, Juan’s right-hand man, that Kirill would get in touch about what to do next.
The weirdest thing about the hit is that after Kirill was cornered and I got there in time, it was like the attackers got an order to retreat. They completely disappeared, taking their dead and injured along.
One of our men died, and a few were wounded, but none of them are in a critical condition.
Despite my attempts, Kirill refused to get his head wound looked at because the other men were his priority.
He only complied after both Anna and Karina got involved and basically forced the doctor to treat him.
After he’s gotten everyone settled in the clinic and has given instructions to Viktor about the site’s cleanup, he starts to leave the annex, then stops.
“You’re coming with me, Aleksander.”
My spine jerks, but it’s not accompanied with the pain I felt whenever he called me by my fake last name. Aleksander is better.
Besides, he did call me Sasha earlier. He touched me, wiped my tears, and brought me down from the overwhelming fear I had when I saw a gun being pointed at his head.
I had gruesome flashbacks from when he was on the verge of death while surrounded by blood and snow in Russia. For a second, I thought I’d lost him for good this time.
All my fears and nightmares played in front of my eyes, and all I could think about was saving him.
Even after the assailant was out of the picture, all I could see was the blood trailing down his temples and cheeks, and I nearly lost it. That high of emotions would’ve swept me over if he hadn’t been there to keep me upright.
Maksim winces as Kirill turns and leaves. I mouth, “What?”
“You disobeyed his order, idiot,” he hisses. “RIP.”
Yuri looks at me in a weird blank way before he offers a sympathizing tap on the shoulder.
Oh, shit. I completely forgot about that.
My steps are heavy as I follow Kirill out of the annex and try to keep up as he strides in the direction of the main house.
I jog to his side and clear my throat. “About earlier, I—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“But—”
“Not another word.” He throws me a chilling side-eye. “I mean it.”
My lips clamp shut, but I walk the rest of the way in complete silence. My mind, however, is in overdrive.
How can I convince him to completely forget about what happened without endangering the fragile peace we re-found?
Or, at least, I did. I don’t know how he feels about the recent events or if he feels anything at all.
If it’s the latter, I would seriously be heartbroken—more than I already am.
Once he walks inside his room, I follow and I try again, “Look at it this way, if I hadn’t come, you’d probably be dead—”
One moment I’m standing there speaking, and the next, the breath is knocked out of my lungs when strong fingers wrap around my throat and slam me against the nearest wall.
