CHAPTER 33
IRIS
I scramble into the backseat of the car and slam the door shut behind me, my chest heaving and my fingers trembling so violently that I can barely pull the seatbelt across my lap while tears flow freely down my face, hot and stinging as they track through the dust still clinging to my skin.
Roman looks at me through the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed with a mixture of alarm and growing rage as he shifts the car into gear, his eyes scanning my face for fresh bruises.
"What the hell happened in there, Iris?" he asks, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Did that son of a bitch hit you? Tell me right now if he laid a finger on you, I am turning this car around and finishing what he started."
"No," I choke out, shaking my head so hard it hurts while I try to steady my breathing. "He didn't hit me, Roman. Just drive. Please, just take me to the hospital, I need to see Tessa or I'm going to lose my mind."
He studies me for a long moment, his jaw tight and his knuckles white on the steering wheel, looking like he wants to argue but seeing the desperation in my eyes makes him hold back.
"Fine," he says finally, his voice clipped. "But you're going to tell me what happened in there eventually, you know that, right? I'm not letting this go."
"I know," I whisper, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "Just not right now. Please."
He doesn't say another word as he floors the accelerator, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he peels away from the estate and leaves the nightmare behind us.
The drive to the hospital is a blur of passing buildings and blurred lights as I stare out the window and try to breathe, but every time I close my eyes I see Ilay's unhinged expression, the way his eyes looked when he told me to run, the way his voice sounded like a promise of violence.
When we finally arrive at the hospital, Roman parks the car and walks beside me into the sterile white lobby, his presence a silent shield against the world, and we take the elevator up to the recovery wing in silence.
When we reach the door to Tessa's room, I have to pause for a second to settle the fluttering in my stomach, then Roman pushes the door open and I freeze when I see who is standing by the bed.
Kirill is there, hunched over a vase on the nightstand as he carefully arranges a bouquet of brightly colored flowers, an overnight bag slumped in the chair beside him, and he looks like he hasn't slept in a week with his hair a mess and his shirt wrinkled.
He looks up when he hears us, his expression shifting from focused to his usual mask of mild annoyance.
"Oh. You are finally here," he says flatly, as if we are the ones who are late to some appointment he never told us about.
I stare at the flowers and then at him, my confusion momentarily overriding my grief. "What are you doing here, Kirill?"
He gestures to the yellow blooms with a flick of his wrist, his tone casual. "What does it look like I am doing? I am making sure she has something better to look at than these depressing white walls when she finally wakes up."
Roman crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, his eyebrow raised.
"Since when do you care about anyone's comfort, brother?
I thought you only cared about yourself.
" Kirill shoots him a look that could draw blood.
"Since when do you care what I do with my time?
You were busy playing chauffeur while I stayed here to make sure she didn't die alone in some sterile room with no one who gave a damn about her. "
"Can you two not do this right now?" I snap, stepping between them with my patience completely gone.
"She just got out of major surgery and she needs peace, not your bickering like children.
" Kirill looks at Tessa's sleeping form and then back at me, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second.
"The doctors said she is stable and that she will wake up in a few hours once the anesthesia wears off, so there is nothing to worry about. "
"Good," I say, gesturing toward the door with my hand. "Now leave. I want to be alone with her."
Kirill raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely offended. "Excuse me? I have been sitting in that uncomfortable chair all night keeping watch over her, and you're just going to kick me out like I'm some stranger?"
"You heard her," Roman says, stepping forward to back me up with his arms still crossed. "Let's go, Kirill. Give them some space."
Kirill sighs and picks up his leather jacket from the end of the bed, looking irritated but ultimately giving in. "Fine. But I am coming back later to check on her, so don't think you're getting rid of me permanently."
"Whatever," I mutter as he walks past me, but he pauses at the door and looks me in the eye with that familiar arrogant smirk.
"You know, little sister, you could at least say thank you," he says, his tone light but his eyes serious.
"I have been sitting in that uncomfortable chair all night when I could have been doing literally anything else.
" I look at him and feel a tiny spark of gratitude despite everything that has happened today.
"Thank you, Kirill. Now please, just go. "
He smirks again, looking satisfied that he got his acknowledgement, and then he and Roman finally exit the room and leave me in the quiet.
I walk over to the bedside and sink into the chair that Kirill vacated, looking at my best friend who seems so small and fragile under the white blankets, her face a map of purple bruises and her arm tucked into a sling, and the sight of the IV drip in her hand makes the tears start all over again.
I take her cold hand gently and lean my forehead against her arm, finally letting out the sobs I have been holding back since I left Ilay's office, "I don't know what to do, Tessa," I whisper into the blankets, my voice breaking.
"I have a family now, a real one, and my father is trying so hard to make me love him, and I can feel that my brothers actually care about me in their own twisted way. "
I wipe my face with my free hand and look at her closed eyes, wishing she could answer me.
"But then there is Ilay. I love him so much it hurts, but he is insane and dangerous, and he made me choose between him and the only blood I have left.
He told me to run, Tessa. He told me he would hunt me down and ruin me. "
I stay there for what feels like hours, talking to her while she sleeps, telling her about everything that happened in the woods and everything I am feeling, until the sun begins to set and the nurses come in to check her vitals and gently suggesting that I go home.
Eventually, I kiss her forehead and whisper a promise to return tomorrow, then I head back to the estate with Roman driving in silence the whole way.
***
The next morning, I am startled awake by a soft knocking on my bedroom door at seven in the morning, and I groan while pulling the covers over my head.
"Come in," I mumble, thinking it is one of the maids bringing breakfast or fresh towels.
The door opens and my father walks in, beaming with a massive bouquet of yellow flowers held in his arms like he is presenting me with a trophy.
"Good morning, my beautiful daughter," he says, his voice full of a cheerfulness that feels way too bright for this early hour. "I brought these for you thinking they would brighten up the room and maybe put a smile on your face."
I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, looking at him in confusion. "Dad, it is seven in the morning. Why are you awake? You usually don't get up until at least nine."
"I couldn't sleep," he admits with a laugh as he sets the flowers down on my dresser with exaggerated care. "I have been up since five planning a whole father-daughter day for us, and I wanted to make sure we got an early start so we don't miss anything."
I raise an eyebrow, still trying to process what he is saying through my sleepy haze. "A father-daughter day? What does that even mean?"
"It means we are going shopping and then to lunch at that nice café you mentioned wanting to try," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement like a child on Christmas morning.
"I even went ahead and picked out a dress for you to wear, but you don't have to wear it if you don't like it, I can just take it back and we can find something else. "
"You did what?" I ask, my jaw dropping in disbelief. "Dad, you picked out a dress for me? When did you even have time to do that?"
He pulls a garment bag from behind his back like a magician performing a trick, looking nervous and eager to please me at the same time. "I saw it in a window yesterday when I was out and I just knew it was meant for you, the color reminded me of your eyes."
He looks so nervous and hopeful that my heart melts a little despite my exhaustion. "Dad, it's fine. Let me see it."
He unzips the bag carefully to reveal a soft lavender dress with delicate lace details, and it is honestly the most beautiful thing I have ever owned.
"Do you like it?" he asks, holding his breath while he waits for my reaction.
"I love it," I say honestly, reaching out to touch the fabric. "Thank you, Dad. This is really sweet."
He looks like he might burst with joy, his whole face lighting up. "Wonderful! Get dressed and meet me downstairs in twenty minutes, we have a lot to do today and I want to make sure we have time for everything I planned."
***
An hour later, we are in the car heading into the city, and he is acting like a child on Christmas morning, pointing out every landmark and telling me about the history of the buildings we pass.
"I called ahead to every store we are visiting today," he tells me proudly, turning in his seat to look at me. "They have cleared out the other customers so we can shop in peace without anyone bothering you or recognizing who you are."
"Dad, that is so unnecessary," I say, laughing at the sheer scale of his effort. "I don't need all that, I'm fine with just walking around like a normal person."
"Nonsense," he says, patting my hand with his warm one. "You are a Miroslav, and you deserve the best of everything. Today, I am going to spoil you until you can't walk from all the shopping bags."
He keeps his word, taking me to store after store in the luxury district, buying everything I so much as glance at for more than two seconds, silk dresses and designer shoes and handbags, soon the bodyguards following us are buried under a mountain of shopping bags.
"Dad, stop," I laugh as he tries to buy a third diamond watch from the display case. "Where am I even going to put all this stuff? I don't have room in my closet for all of this."
"We will build you a new wing for your closet," he says seriously, and I realize he isn't joking at all when he pulls out his credit card again.
We eventually stop at a small, elegant café for lunch, and we sit by the window where the sunlight hits the table and makes everything feel warm and peaceful.
He orders a green smoothie and sighs when I look at his glass with a questioning expression.
"Doctor's orders," he says with a grimace, pushing the glass around on the table. "My heart isn't what it used to be, so I have to be careful with what I eat these days."
My smile fades as I look at him, noticing the tiredness in his eyes. "I didn't know you were sick, Dad. Is it serious?"
"It's just old age catching up to me," he says gently, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "But don't worry about that today, I want to tell you about how I met your mother, would you like to hear that story?"
“Yes.” I reply wanting to hear his version of how they met. His face lights up as he describes meeting her in a small bookshop on a rainy afternoon, telling me how smart and stubborn she was, how she refused to take his money until he practically begged her to let him buy her coffee.
"She was too good for me," he says softly, his eyes misting over with the memory. "She was the only person who ever saw me for who I really was, not just the man with the gun and the dangerous reputation."
"She loved you very much," I tell him, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand back. "She talked about you until the very end, even when she was too weak to say much else."
He smiles, a real, beautiful smile that makes him look younger and happier than I have ever seen him. "I'm so glad I found you, Iris. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost, I promise you that."
We finish our lunch and start walking back toward the car, but as we step onto the sidewalk, I notice a man in a hoodie standing across the street, watching us with an intensity that makes the hair on my neck stand up.
"Dad," I whisper, grabbing his arm tightly. "I think someone is following us. Don't look now, but there is a man across the street who has been staring at us for the past few minutes."
He tenses instantly, his protective instincts taking over as he subtly scans the area. "Where? Point him out to me without being obvious."
"Grey hoodie. Across the street near the lamppost."
He looks, but it is already too late, the man pulls a handgun from his waistband and levels it at us with cold precision. "Dad!" I scream, trying to push him out of the way with all my strength.
The sound of the gunshot is deafening, and I watch in horror as my father collapses onto the pavement, blood blooming across the chest of his expensive suit like a terrible flower.
Everything turns into a nightmare of screaming people and shouting guards, and I am on my knees in the dirt, pressing my hands against the wound to stop the blood that won't stop flowing.
"Stay with me!" I sob, my hands slick with his blood. "Dad, please, stay with me! Don't you dare leave me now!" The bodyguards surged forward, with their guns drawn.
"Call an ambulance!" I yell. "Someone help!"