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“Do you know if he hit his head?” I ask, purely out of instinct. I rush over to Dimitri’s side and check the man for injuries, careful not to move him.
Dahlia shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“That’s alright,” I say reassuringly. “Why don’t you take the little one out of the room?”
She does just that, comforting the boy while I get to work.
“I need you to grab me a few cushions,” I tell Dimitri. “Place them under his feet so they’re raised.”
To his credit, he does exactly what he’s told. I check the man’s pulse, gently tapping his cheeks. His breathing is stable, his pulse strong.
“What’s his name?” I ask Dimitri.
“Lev.”
“Lev,” I echo. “Hey, Lev? Lev, can you hear me?” His eyes flutter, but they don’t open all the way. “Is he on any medication? Does he normally experience episodes like this? Do you know if he has underlying health issues like epilepsy, a history of cardiac arrest, or hyperglycemia?”
Dimitri doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s on medication to control his blood pressure; this is the first time something like this has ever happened; and he’s recently been diagnosed with severe PTSD but is in otherwise good health.”
I press my palm to Lev’s forehead. He’s warm, but not sweaty. I look around the room. The air is stuffy and there’s plenty of sunshine streaming in, but no free flow of air. Following my instincts, I give his arm a gentle pinch. His skin comes away white, lacking its normally pinkish hue.
“He’s dehydrated,” I state firmly. “I need you to close the curtains, open one of the windows, and grab a glass of water for him to drink.”
“Got it,” Dimitri says, getting up in a hurry.
My hands may be steady, but my heart beats a mile a minute. Never in a million years did I think I’d be helping the father of the man who killed my own. But what was I supposed to do?Nothelp? My conscience would never let me go through with that. Lev isn’t the enemy here, Dimitri is.
The man lying before me stirs, mumbling incoherently under his breath. I sigh in relief. He’s coming to.
“Who…” he rasps. “Who are you?”
“It’s okay, just relax,” I tell him gently. “My name is Nat. Can you tell me if anything hurts?”
“N-no, I… Where are my boys?”
I furrow my brows. “Your boys?”
“My… My sons. Misha? Dima? P-Pyotr?”
The sound of heavy footsteps reach my ear. I look up to find Dimitri in the doorway, a glass of water and a damp cloth in hand. He hurries over, helping me lift Lev’s upper body while he brings the rim of the glass to his lips.
“I’m here, Father,” Dimitri says. There’s a pain in his voice. It’s barely noticeable, but I catch it all the same.
Lev coughs, pushing Dimitri away. “Who are you?” he snaps. “Where’s my son?”
Dimitri looks crestfallen. For a moment, I almost pity him. I’ve stumbled into something I probably shouldn’t have. I’m not going to linger in it, either. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Even if Ididtry to kill Dimitri now, too many people have seen my face.
“Help me get him back in his chair,” I say to him.
Dimitri and I work together and help Lev get situated again.
“I think you should call for a doctor,” I mumble.
“I thought youwerea doctor.”
“One who’s presently equipped for such a situation,” I correct. “You shouldn’t leave someone in his condition unattended in a hot room like this. It’s irresponsible.”
“It was my housekeeper’s idea, but… No, it’s on me, you’re right. I should have had someone watching him.”
