Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
JONAH
Absolute chaos follows. Fingers peel his shirt away. Someone checks his breathing while another presses a palm to his throat. Men move around us, Russian words cutting the air.
I stay close until one of them angles his body between me and the bed. He shuts me out. The mattress is a flurry of hands and equipment. I'm an outsider again. A shadow in a room full of soldiers.
The doctor, a woman with red hair tucked into a bun, checks the monitor. She mutters about the stimulant overdose. Her flashlight cuts through the dim light, catching the way Viktor’s chest hitches in bursts. Every rasping breath he takes feels like a hook in my own lungs.
I try to push past, but a guard jabs me in the back and yanks me away.
He steers me into a stiff-backed armchair.
I’m forced to face a man in a black T-shirt.
Blond hair falls over pale eyes. His fingers clip the end of a cigarette.
He barks orders, but his gaze never leaves mine.
He looks like he’s already decided where to bury me.
He’s around Viktor’s age. Built for trouble. He’s close to Viktor; it’s in the way he watches the bed. His palms shake as he lights the cigarette and tosses a silver lighter onto the table. He stills his hands before anyone can see.
“If you’re going to smoke, go outside.” The doctor doesn't look up.
He ignores her. He exhales a stream of smoke and studies me. “So. Whose part are you playing?”
“Nikolai.” The doctor snaps her bag shut. “This isn't the time for an interrogation. We should be lucky his heart didn't seize in that basement.” She fixes her gaze on me. “If it wasn't for you. How did you know what to do for him?”
“I’m a nurse.” I hate the stammer. I hate that I’m sitting here shaking while he’s lying there.
I want the version of him that was awake.
The one who called me mine. The guards filter out, but the distance between us doesn't shrink. He’s there, and I’m here.
I want him conscious. I want to be back in the room with the piano, tangled in his bed. Just us.
My eyes burn. I blink hard. I won't cry in front of these people.
“A nurse.” Nikolai takes another drag.
“Yes. I was assigned to take care of him. It’s complicated.”
“Then fucking explain it.”
“I don't know where to start.”
“At the beginning.”
“My father called me and took me to the Morozovs.” The words feel like lead. “He had a debt. He couldn't pay it, so he… he sold me.”
Nikolai’s brows draw together. “He sold you? To who? Sergei?”
“No. To the lady. The one who runs the house.”
“Babushka.” He hums. “So it's true.”
He watches in silence as the doctor puts on her coat.
“So Babushka hired you to take care of Viktor.”
Boots thrum down the hallway. The guards snap to attention.
The door bursts open and a man storms in.
Dark hair, set jaw, tattoos running down both arms. The resemblance to Viktor is a physical blow.
It knocks the air right out of me. He doesn't wait for an answer. He scans the room until he sees the bed. His stride falters. He braces his hands on the mattress near Viktor’s shoulder, searching for a pulse. “Vitya… bratik… open your eyes.”
Viktor doesn't move. The man leans closer until his forehead almost touches Viktor’s. “I buried you,” he whispers. “I fucking buried you.” He looks up, eyes finding Nikolai. “You knew?”
“Lev.” A guard starts to speak, but the man raises a palm. “Don't. Niko?”
Nikolai lights another cigarette. “I couldn't tell you, mladshenkiy. Not until I was sure we could get him out. I wasn't letting him die twice.”
“You could have fucking told me. For fuck’s sake.” Lev pushes Nikolai, but there's no force behind it. He lets Nikolai squeeze his shoulder before he turns to me. “And who the fuck are you?”
I press back into the chair. The wood bites into my spine. “I'm… was… Viktor’s nurse.” My face is on fire. He’s looking at me with Viktor’s eyes, but there's no heat in them. Only ice.
Lev takes a step toward me. I cringe, pulling back until there's nowhere left to go. Lev takes a step toward me. I cringe, pulling back until there's nowhere left to go. His gaze is a weight I can’t shake, a mirror of the man currently drowning in sedatives on the bed. I should be pleading for my life, but instead, I’m claiming my place at Viktor’s side because the thought of being sent back to the world is worse than the threat of a shallow grave.
“Explain yourself. Since when do you work for Sergei?”
“I don't work for Sergei.”
Lev huffs. “You’ve got balls walking in here pretending you're a choirboy. If you weren't working for our uncle, you could've contacted us. Why didn't you?”
“He was locked up with Viktor.” The woman guard steps in. “I saw them together. He couldn't get out either.”
“And you believe him? Just because he’s soft-faced and...”
Nikolai’s grip snaps around Lev’s wrist. “Lev. Enough. Let go.” Lev jerks, but Nikolai holds firm. “Babushka hired him. She trusted him.”
Lev stares at me. “She knew? You all fucking knew? You should have told me, man.”
“She didn't tell you because she knew you'd run at Sergei,” Nikolai continues. “She was protecting Viktor and you. If Sergei suspected you knew, you'd both be dead.”
Lev freezes. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Well, he's home now. We're not losing him again.” He turns fully toward me. “You. You take care of him. You keep him breathing. Whatever you were doing before, keep doing it. But everyone in this house is watching you now.”
I nod. I don't have a choice. I don't think I'd want one even if it were offered.
“If you fuck this up.” Lev steps closer. “There won't be warnings.”
“You'll bury me with him. Alive.” I sigh. The exhaustion is finally heavier than the fear. “Babushka said the same.”
Nikolai’s shoulders shake with a quiet chuckle. “The nurse has a sense of humor. I think I like him.”
Lev doesn't smile. He looks back at the bed. “I hope he has more than that. Because when my brother wakes… we start.”
“Start what?”
Nikolai meets my eyes. His expression goes cold. “War. Welcome to our world now, Jonah the nurse.”