CHAPTER 34 #2
"I know," he says gently, his thumb moving slightly against my hand.
"But I'm okay now, I'm here, you're here, that's all that matters to me.
" I sit down properly in my chair, still holding his hand like I'm afraid he'll disappear if I let go.
"You still want me to call you Dad? Even after everything? "
He looks at me with confusion written all over his tired face. "What else would you call me?"
"I don't know," I say, trying to smile. "Mister Miroslav? Sir? Your honor?"
He laughs weakly, then winces in pain. "Don't make me laugh, it hurts my chest, but yes, please keep calling me Dad, I like hearing it from you." I smile through my tears. "Okay, Dad." He squeezes my hand back with what little strength he has. "Good girl."
After a moment of comfortable silence, I ask quietly, "Do you think it was Ilay who sent that man?" His expression shifts immediately, becoming more serious. "No."
"How can you be so sure?" I press, needing to understand. "He threatened to kill you, he threatened the whole family, how do you know it wasn't him?"
"I know how Ilay operates," he says with certainty in his voice. "That man doesn't use hired guns to do his dirty work for him, if he wanted me dead he would show up himself to put the bullet in my head, he wouldn't send some nobody in a hoodie to do it from a distance."
I blink, processing this. "Then who would want you dead badly enough to try this?"
"You want to know why that man hates me so much?" he asks, his voice getting slightly stronger. "Why he threatened your entire family when they took you?"
I nod quickly. "Yes, I want to understand."
He takes a slow breath, gathering his strength.
"My father was a hard man, cruel in ways I've spent my whole life trying not to repeat, he believed in cutting down weeds while they're still small so they can't grow into problems later, from the time Ilay was just a boy, maybe eight years old, he had been kidnapped by my family five different times, five times we took him from his mother and used him as leverage against his father. "
My eyes widen in horror. "Five times? Why would your father do that to a child?"
"The last time was when Ilay was fourteen years old," my father continues, his voice heavy with old guilt. "My father decided it was finally time to kill him off permanently, to eliminate the future threat he represented, but that bastard refused to die like he was supposed to."
"What happened?" I whisper.
"He survived somehow," my father says, almost admiringly despite the circumstances. "Ran through the forest to escape while my father's men hunted him like an animal, on his way through the woods he encountered a wild wolf, that's how he got that scar on his neck, the one you've probably noticed."
I gasp, my hand going to my own throat. "A bear attacked him while he was running for his life?"
"He killed it with his bare hands," my father says. "Fourteen years old, bleeding, terrified, running from killers, he still managed to kill a full-grown wolf that attacked him, that's when I knew he would grow up to be something truly dangerous."
My mind is reeling with this information, trying to reconcile the image of a terrified fourteen-year-old boy with the powerful, ruthless man I know now.
"So you see," my father continues, "the real culprit for this shooting, the person who's actually after me right now, should be whoever is also after those property documents we've been fighting over for months, that's who shot me, not Ilay."
For some reason, hearing him say that with such certainty makes me feel calmer than I've felt in weeks.
It isn't Ilay.
He didn't do this.
He didn't send someone to hurt my father.
I don't know why that matters so much to me, but it does, it matters more than I want to admit.
My father watches me carefully, reading my face. "You were really worried it was him, weren't you? That's why you've been so frantic these past two weeks."
I nod slowly. "Yes. I thought maybe he was starting to make good on his threats, that he was going to kill everyone I care about until I went back to him."
He sighs, shifting slightly in the bed. "I understand why you care about him the way you do, I really do, he's magnetic in his own twisted way, but you need to be careful with that man, Iris, he's dangerous in ways you haven't fully seen yet."
"I know," I whisper, looking down at our joined hands.
"But," he adds, his tone softening unexpectedly, "I will tell you this honestly, if you weren't such a complete psycho magnet who attracts the most dangerous men in the criminal underworld, I might've actually considered him a decent match for you someday, the way he fought to get you back, threatening an entire country, that kind of devotion is rare even if it's completely unhinged. "
I look at him, genuinely surprised. "Really? You would consider him?"
"Really," he says with a small smile. "But he's still not stable enough for my liking, he needs years of therapy at minimum, I definitely know this shooting wasn't his work though, Ilay doesn't use assassins to carry out his jobs, he shows up himself to do the killing personally, that's why he's been in this game for so long and stayed alive while so many others died, the man is relentless when he wants something. "
I nod slowly, absorbing everything he's telling me. "I understand."
He squeezes my hand one more time with more strength than before. "Now I want you to go get some actual rest, you look exhausted, when was the last time you slept in an actual bed instead of that chair?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe three days ago?"
"Then go," he says firmly despite his weakness. "I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right here when you come back."
"I will," I promise, standing up slowly. "After I make absolutely sure you're okay."
He smiles at me, that warm fatherly smile I'm still getting used to. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, I promise you that." I stay by his side for another hour, watching him drift in and out of sleep, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat on the monitor.
When I finally leave his room, Roman is waiting in the hallway. "He's awake?" he asks, hope lighting up his face.
"He's awake," I confirm, smiling through fresh tears. "He's going to be okay." Roman pulls me into a tight hug, relief evident in the way he holds me. "Thank God." That night, lying in my bed at the estate, I stare at the ceiling while my mind races.
My father was right about one thing. Ilay didn't send that assassin.
He wouldn't use a hired gun. If he wanted my father dead, he would come himself.
I know that now. I know him well enough to understand how he operates.
But that doesn't change the fundamental problem.
I'm still the reason people around me get hurt.
My presence puts targets on their backs.
As long as I'm here, Ilay will always be a threat hovering over my family. If I stay in Russia, there will always be danger.
I look at the ceiling in the darkness, making a decision that breaks my heart even as I know it's the right one. When my father is strong enough to be left alone, when he's recovered enough that I know he'll survive without me, I'm leaving Russia forever.
I'm going far away where Ilay will never find me, where my presence won't put targets on my family's backs, where my father and brothers can live without constantly looking over their shoulders waiting for the next bullet meant for me.
I'm done with the blood spilling over people I love. I'm done with the monsters who follow me wherever I go.
I'm never looking back.