What He Keeps (Silent Sins: Agapov Bratva #2)

1. Maggie

MAGGIE

There’s so much blood.

“Stay with me,” I beg, my voice shaking as I press my hands harder against Irina’s stomach. Blood keeps slipping through my fingers, hot and slick, no matter how hard I try to stop it. “Irina, please stay with me.”

Her face has already gone frighteningly pale. Her hand twitches weakly beneath mine, then stills completely.

“No. No, no, no,” I murmur.

Pain spreads through my chest as I stare at her face. I keep my hands over the wound even though it’s too late. Blood coats my palms, my arms, the front of my shirt, and I can’t seem to make myself move.

“Maggie!”

I jerk at the sound of Ivy screaming my name. She’s crouched several feet away near an overturned cart of donated blankets, crying so hard her entire body shakes. Her wide hazel-green eyes lock onto mine with pure terror, and the sight finally shocks me back into motion.

I scramble toward her. The second I reach her, she throws herself against me so hard I nearly lose my balance. Her tiny arms wrap around my neck while sobs wrack through her chest.

“Maggie,” she cries brokenly against my shoulder.

“I got you, baby.” My voice trembles so badly that the words barely come out. I cradle the back of her head against me while trying to shield her from the nightmare around us. “I got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

But she’s not okay. Nothing about tonight is okay.

Blood smears into Ivy’s hair from my shaking hands while I glance farther down the hallway toward Viktor.

He’s slumped against the wall, clutching his shoulder, blood splattered across the white paint behind him in violent streaks.

Luka is already beside him pressing fabric against the wound while barking rapid Russian into his phone.

Then Alexei appears.

He comes down the hallway fast with violence written all over him. I’ve never seen anyone move like that before in my life.

Blood stains his left cheek beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

One hand grips a gun low at his side while those ice-blue eyes sweep across the hallway, taking in the entire scene in one terrifying glance.

The blood covering the floor. Volunteers screaming somewhere near the front lobby.

Viktor slumped wounded against the wall.

Irina lying motionless behind me. Then his eyes land on me, covered in blood, with Ivy shaking apart in my arms.

Alexei comes to an abrupt stop. Something in his expression changes so fast it nearly knocks the breath out of me. It’s not panic or grief. It’s something colder than both. His entire body goes still for one terrible second before he reaches us.

“Maggie.” His voice sounds rough and uneven in a way I’ve never heard before.

I can barely breathe. “Irina’s gone.” The words break apart halfway through.

Alexei’s attention moves toward Irina’s body. For the first time since I met him, genuine emotion cracks through his control. It’s quick, quiet, and devastating all at once. Pain flashes across his face so fast that most people would miss it.

Then Ivy sobs, “Papa!”

Alexei drops to his knees beside us. One arm wraps around Ivy while his other hand grips my shoulder firmly, grounding me before I can completely come apart. His fingers tighten once when he feels how violently I’m shaking.

“She’s okay,” I whisper. “They tried to take her.”

Alexei closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, pure lethal control fills his face sending cold fear sliding down my spine.

“We caught one,” he says.

I stare at him blankly. “What?”

“One of the attackers.” His jaw flexes hard. “He’s alive. For now.”

The words should comfort me. Instead, dread crawls through me. Suddenly, I understand exactly what kind of men the Agapovs are when someone threatens their family.

Sirens scream outside moments later. Red and blue lights flash through the shelter windows while officers rush through the building shouting commands.

EMTs flood the hallway carrying stretchers and trauma bags while frightened volunteers crowd together near the adoption room, crying hysterically.

Dogs continue barking from their kennels, feeding off the panic pouring through the building.

Everything feels shattered.

One medic kneels beside Irina while another rushes toward Viktor. Ivy buries her face harder against my neck as they check Irina for a pulse that no longer exists.

Alexei rises smoothly to his feet beside us. Blood streaks across his hands now from touching both Ivy and me, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

An officer approaches carefully. “Sir, we need everyone separated for statements.”

“No.” Alexei’s voice remains calm and even. Controlled in a way that feels more intimidating than yelling ever could. “Not yet.”

The officer hesitates. Apparently, Savannah police know exactly who Alexei Agapov is because the man backs off almost immediately.

Two EMTs crouch in front of me next.

“Ma’am, are you injured?”

I look down at myself like I’m seeing my body for the first time. Blood covers nearly every inch of me, soaking into my shirt, staining across my arms, and smeared down the front of my jeans. But none of it belongs to me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper honestly.

They guide Ivy and me toward one of the ambulances parked outside the shelter.

Ivy refuses to let go of me the entire walk, clinging so tightly to my shirt that I can barely move without her.

They help us sit on the edge of the ambulance.

The medics begin checking Ivy first while silent tears slide down her cheeks.

“Sweetheart, did anyone hurt you?” one medic asks gently.

Ivy shakes her head no and buries herself against me.

Alexei stands by the ambulance doors while officers put up crime scene tape around the shelter. A black SUV pulls up looking expensive and out of place next to the animal rescue vans and volunteer cars.

Roman’s men.

I know who they are instantly by the way they move through the parking lot, silent and lethal making my pulse race.

One of them speaks quietly to Alexei in Russian, while another disappears toward the rear of the property, followed by two more men.

Alexei responds without taking his eyes off Ivy and me.

The medic checking my pulse finally says, “You’re in shock.”

My shaking hands answer for me. I keep staring toward the hallway where they covered Irina’s body with a white sheet. This morning, she was smiling and laughing while helping Ivy pick ribbons for Mr. Pickles’ leash. Now she’s dead on my shelter floor. My throat constricts painfully.

Suddenly, Jules comes barreling through the police barricade, looking half out of his damn mind.

“Maggie!” he shouts.

I stand up so quickly that one of the EMTs grabs my arm in protest, but Jules is already crossing the parking lot toward me. His face goes pale beneath the flashing emergency lights. The moment he reaches me, he grabs my shoulders hard while his eyes search frantically over my face.

“Oh, sweet heaven.” His voice cracks apart. “Jesus Christ, Maggie.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s not mine,” I say quickly.

His eyes drop toward Ivy, curled against me. Then he notices the white-sheet-covered stretcher being wheeled toward the coroner’s van. The last bit of color drains from his face.

“No,” he breathes.

Fresh tears sting my eyes.

“Jules…”

His hand flies up over his mouth while grief tears through him so suddenly it makes my chest hurt. “Who?”

“Irina.”

He turns away sharply, dragging in a rough breath that doesn’t seem to help much. “I should’ve stayed,” he says hoarsely. “The event went so well I thought everything was okay. I should’ve stayed but I left because I thought everything was calming down.”

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” I try to reassure him.

“There damn sure was.” His hands clench at his sides so hard I can see the tension all the way up his arms.

“Jules.”

“I should’ve stayed.” His voice breaks completely that time. He drags both hands through his hair, sucking in deep breaths like he’s trying not to lose it right here in the parking lot.

I pull him into a quick, fierce hug. He hugs me back just as tightly while trying unsuccessfully to pull himself together.

Around us, officers continue moving through the shelter, gathering statements from shaken volunteers while frightened dogs retreat deeper into the corners of their kennels. Flashlights sweep across the property, and radios continue to crackle. It feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

“I need to check the animals,” I mumble, my voice sounding strange to my own ears, distant and uneven like it belongs to somebody else. My attention moves toward the shelter doors, where volunteers hurry between runs, trying to calm the animals. “They’re scared.”

“You are not going back in there tonight.” Alexei’s voice cuts clean through the commotion surrounding us.

I look over at him standing beside the open ambulance doors, his broad shoulders rigid while red and blue lights flash across his face in rapid bursts of color.

“I have to,” I argue weakly. “The volunteers are overwhelmed and those animals are terrified.”

“Maggie.” His tone drops lower, firmer this time. “No.”

I shake my head, and the motion sends dizziness rolling through me so hard I grab the edge of the ambulance for balance. Ivy reacts instantly, tightening both arms around my waist like she thinks I might collapse right in front of her.

“I can’t just leave them here.”

“You almost died tonight,” he growls.

The words hit me like a slap. I know he’s right, and the thought nearly makes me sick.

Alexei steps closer, lowering his voice further when he sees my face change. “At this moment, I don’t care about the shelter.”

Tears burn behind my eyes. “I do.”

“I know.”

His voice loses some of its edge on those two words, and that almost breaks me worse than the cold control he’s been holding onto. Around us, officers continue moving through the crowded parking lot while paramedics load equipment back into ambulances.