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She looks forward again. Nods. Doesn’t say anything else.
I add, “He saw me get kidnapped when I was a kid. Risked his life trying to save me. They framed him for it and threw him in prison. Even so…”
The reality of all that’s happened suddenly washes over me. I grip the handle of the car door so she doesn’t see me teeter under the intensity of it all.
“Even so…” I half-cough, half-laugh, “he doesn’t blame me. Well, he did, for a while, and he had every right to. But he got over it so fast and now… well, now, here he is. Helping his brother. Saving me, saving you. So, yeah. Tolya’s good people.”
It’s not that I don’t know this; I guess I’ve just never absorbed it, not really. Not to the level of actually accepting it as a reality.
Tolya forgives me.
He doesn’t just forgive me. Hecaresabout me.
He shouldn’t.
He doesn’t have to.
But he does anyway.
I open the door for Eva and give her a stabilizing hand to climb in. She moves gingerly and winces when she sits, but otherwise settles in nicely. “Are you coming?” she asks me, ready to move over and make room.
I shake my head. “I gotta go find my man. Stay here. You’re safe now.”
I leave her there in the tank of an SUV. She looks exhausted but less fearful than before.
I know that look. I’vebeenthat look. I’ve seen it in the mirror far too many times.
And now… I wonder if I’ll ever see it again.
Now that the monsters are gone, as Willow would put it… what do I have to be afraid of?
When I walk back to where Tolya and Pavel have the Yakuza rounded up, I can feel the shift in the air. The women are quickly filing out with a few of Demyen’s men guiding them, while more of his men are slowly but steadily positioning themselves around the Yakuza captives on their knees.
I don’t know if I want to be around for the execution I know is about to happen.
But I also don’t know if I’ll regret not seeing it through. Getting the closure.
I scan the crowd for any sign of Demyen. It’s a bit of a challenge, given that everyone in his Bratva is wearing the same style of dark tactical clothes and heavy utility belts.
But then I see a blood-stained hand run through a mess of familiar thick, dark hair.
And my heart skips a beat.
He’s alive. He’s alive and I think… I think he’s looking for me.
“Dem?”
He spins around. Sees me between passing men.
And in two solid strides, he’s pulling me into his arms and crushing my lips to his in a searing kiss.
Everything falls away. I don’t hear the shouted orders; the engines rumbling to life in Hummers loaded with Raizo’s rescued victims don’t reach my deaf ears.
I hear nothing but the pounding of my own heartbeat. The groan that rumbles through his chest.
I feel nothing but the warmth and strength of his arms wrapped around me. His hands cupping my face and tangling in my hair.
I want nothing other than him.
