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She hurries to me and throws herself over my chest.
“No. Don’t die. Please, Alek. I can’t live without you,” she rambles, her arms around my neck threatening to strangle the little life I have left from my body.
More gunshots erupt, and Dario drops dead to the floor, the side of his face blown away.
Papa.
I don’t know where I find the strength, but I push Everleigh back, and struggling to my feet, I wrap my arm around her shoulders so I can lean on her and keep her close.
“We need to move,” I order.
My girl wraps her arm around my lower back to help me move, careful not to touch the torn skin. When we get to the door, and I’m about to tell her to pick up Dario’s gun, I see my father hurrying down the hallway.
He locks eyes with me and picks up his pace while barking, “Come. Hurry!”
I didn’t expect a warm reunion. That’s not the kind of person my father is.
“Where’s Vincent?” he asks, his voice strained.
I can only shake my head as I lean into Everleigh so I can limp faster.
Papa’s eyes land on her, and before he can ask who she is, I say, “She’s coming with me.”
“Boss. We’ve got Prodi out back,” Grigory, my father’s second in charge, calls from down the hallway.
Papa forgets about Everleigh as he spins around and jogs toward Grigory.
“Let’s hurry,” I tell Everleigh, and as we head past the bodies of Prodi’s men, I get a sliver of satisfaction that they’re dead.
“Your father came, Alek,” my girl whispers with overwhelming relief making her voice hoarse. “We’ve been saved!”
I pull her closer to me, and together we find our way out of the warehouse that’s been our prison for weeks…months.
I won’t know how long we were Prodi’s captives until I talk with my father.
Papa came.
If only he had come earlier.
From the blood loss I’m suffering, I start to feel severely lightheaded, and Everleigh struggles to keep me on my feet as she drags me to the nearest SUV.
“Alek needs to go to the hospital. He’s been shot!” she shouts at someone.
I can’t keep my head up, and I start to drift in and out of consciousness.
At least Everleigh will get to live.
Strong arms grab me, and I’m forced into the back of an SUV. It only takes seconds before I feel Everleigh’s hands pressing down on the bullet wound to my thigh.
“We have to hurry,” she cries, the desperation in her voice growing thicker.
I still hear gunfire, and I can’t tell how long we wait before the SUV dips from men climbing into the vehicle.
“Aleksandr,” Papa snaps.
Years of conditioning have me lifting my head.
“Don’t you dare fucking die,” he orders.
