Chapter 11
Alina
Valery and Konstantin are waiting in the reception area when Alexei and I walk into the clinic at half past eleven.
I stop in my tracks.
I don’t know what I expected, but encountering my brothers calmly sitting here wasn’t it. Alexei had to know they were here, and he allowed it. Does that mean—
“Hey.” Valery is already crossing the room toward us, with Konstantin on his heels. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” I say warily, darting a glance at Alexei’s face.
My husband’s eyes are narrowed and his jaw is tight, but he’s not reaching for any weapons, which I take as a good sign.
“We’d like to speak to our sister alone,” Konstantin says, addressing him. As usual, my oldest brother lacks all subtlety—not that the situation requires any.
We all know where we stand.
“You can speak to her here and now, with me, or not at all.” Alexei’s lips stretch into a grim smile. “Your choice.”
“It’s fine,” I say as Konstantin’s nostrils flare dangerously. “We’ll just take a few steps this way, okay? We’ll be within your sight at all times.”
Before Alexei can reply, I grab Konstantin’s hand and drag him toward the reception desk, which is empty today. Valery immediately joins us, standing in such a way that the sprawling leaves of the six-foot-tall cane block most of his face.
I make sure Alexei isn’t about to explode—he’s glaring at us darkly but staying put—before I turn to my brothers. “Thank you both for coming. You didn’t have to, but—”
“Nikolai and Chloe are on their way,” Valery says in a low voice. “They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”
I can’t hide a shocked gasp. “Really? With Slava?”
“No,” Konstantin says in a similarly quiet voice.
“They left him in the compound with Pavel. It’s too dangerous for him here.
Listen…” He leans in so his face is also blocked by the cane, and his voice drops to a barely audible whisper.
“We’re working on a plan to get you out.
We can’t do it before the surgery, but—”
“No.” The word escapes my lips before I can consciously formulate the thought. “Don’t.”
Valery cocks his head. “Why?”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
I don’t want my brothers to rescue me for the same reason I didn’t contact them when I escaped—because I don’t want to endanger them.
And because the thought of being separated from Alexei again makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
The realization is like a thunderclap in the middle of a clear sky, as disturbing as it is startling.
But it’s true. I don’t want to be away from Alexei.
Maybe it’s the tumor messing with my brain, or maybe it’s everything that happened yesterday and Alexei’s irrational determination to take care of me no matter what, but the thought of being without him, of facing the battle ahead without his strength and resolve… I can’t even imagine it.
I don’t want to imagine it.
“Has he hurt you?” Valery asks, very softly.
I shake my head. “And he won’t. But he will hurt the two of you. And Nikolai and Chloe. Please…” I shift my gaze from Valery to Konstantin and back. “Listen to me… I’m fine. I want to stay with him. Please don’t do anything—not now at least.”
Valery and Konstantin exchange a look.
“I mean it.”
“She means it.” Alexei’s sardonic drawl makes me jump. Somehow, he’s approached us without my noticing. His eyes gleam mockingly as he loops his arm around my waist to pull me to his side. “Now if you’re done plotting against me, your sister has major surgery in a few minutes.”
Valery reaches out and squeezes my hand. His expression is the closest to strained I’ve ever seen. “Good luck. You’ll do great.”
“She doesn’t need luck. She has the best doctors,” Konstantin says.
Adjusting his glasses, he gives me a level look.
“You have a good chance of surviving this unscathed. According to one recent study, only one-point-seven percent of patients undergoing awake craniotomy had any sort of permanent side effects.”
Alexei glares at him, but I just laugh. Because that’s Konstantin for you—logical, factual, and lacking in anything resembling social niceties. He says what he thinks. In that, he’s the polar opposite of Valery, whom one can never take at face value.
“I’ll be okay, you guys,” I say when I stop laughing. “See you in a few.”
They nod, stepping back, and Alexei leads me through the reception doors into the hallway and to the room where the surgical team is already waiting for us.
As soon as we enter, the nurses have me change into a hospital gown, and then Fasseau informs me that they’ll need to shave off a portion of my hair in order to perform the craniotomy.
“It won’t be as much as usual,” he says in a reassuring tone. “Our team tries to spare most of the hair by removing just a few strands around the incision and thoroughly washing the scalp to prevent infection. We understand that for women with long hair like yours, it can be—”
“Won’t I lose it anyway with chemo?”
Fasseau looks uncomfortable. “Yes, most likely, but—”
“Then just shave it all off. I want to get it over with.”
I don’t look at Alexei as I say this. I don’t want to see his reaction. If, despite all of his insistence to the contrary, he finds me repulsive with a bald head, it’s better if he walks away now, before I grow even more reliant on him.
Before I lose sight of how it all began and why we shouldn’t be together.
Fasseau shoots a helpless look at Ingels and the rest of his colleagues before turning his attention back to me. “Mrs. Leonov, are you sure about this? There’s a chance, albeit a small one, that chemo won’t be required—”
“Do as she says.” Alexei’s tone is harsh, but when he clasps my hand in his, his grip is extraordinarily gentle, as if he’s afraid I’ll break. “Shave it all off. Now.”
Fasseau pales. “As you wish.” He motions to the nurses, then pauses and turns to me. “Mrs. Leonov… you have such beautiful hair. Would you perhaps like to have a wig made of it?”
“No.” My answer is unequivocal. For some reason, the idea of wearing my own hair as a wig is giving me the willies. “Just get rid of it, please. Or… give it to someone.”
Fasseau’s eyes brighten. “Are you sure? If you’re certain you wouldn’t mind, we’d love to use your hair to make a wig for one of our pediatric patients. Her hair was almost exactly the same color and length as yours before she lost it, and she’s been devastated about it.”
I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. “Of course I don’t mind. Please go ahead.”
Just the idea of a child going through this… If I can lessen her pain in some small way, it’s worth losing my hair a thousand times over.
A minute later, I’m seated in front of a mirror in the attached bathroom as one of the nurses shaves my hair with buzzing clippers, being careful to collect the falling strands into a bag as Alexei watches from the corner behind her.
She’s extremely methodical about it, doing her best to preserve nearly all of the length, and for some reason, the experience is not nearly as traumatic as I imagined.
Maybe it’s because I know this will brighten a child’s day, or maybe because, after everything, I simply can’t bring myself to care about something as shallow as my appearance.
It’s odd, but something inside me appears to have shifted. I don’t know if it’s the man I killed or the baby I lost, but I no longer feel like myself.
“All done,” the nurse says cheerfully, and I blink, realizing I zoned out.
Though I’ve been facing the mirror the entire time, I somehow forgot to look at my reflection. So I look now—and I don’t entirely hate what I see.
Bemused, I raise my hand and touch the fuzzy stubble covering my skull.
It feels… pleasantly prickly.
And tickly.
Also, my head is a bit cold.
My eyes meet Alexei’s in the mirror. His gaze is demon dark and intense. And… filled with heat?
I blink, certain I’ve misconstrued his expression.
But no. The way he’s staring at me is raising the temperature in the small bathroom by about a thousand degrees.
I flush, no longer the least bit cold as he steps up to me from the back, forcing the nurse to step aside. Lifting his hand, he runs it over my shaved skull, the warmth of his big, callused palm perversely making me shiver.
His voice is a soft, raspy rumble as he bends down to murmur into my ear, “I fucking love it.”
The nurse clears her throat uncomfortably.
Ignoring her, he straightens and pulls me to my feet to face him. Clasping my face between his palms, he bends his head and slants his lips over mine in a raw, animalistic kiss that leaves me wet and trembling—and desperately wishing we were elsewhere.
“Um… excuse me…” The nurse’s voice is high and more than a little squeaky. “We have to prep Mrs. Leonov for surgery now.”
Alexei reluctantly straightens, ending the kiss, but his hands remain on my face, his gaze dark and scorching… and deeply worried.
I see the concern behind the heat, the fear that he can’t quite mask, and for some reason, it makes me calmer. More resolved.
“It’ll be all right,” I whisper, laying my hands over his, and then I pull away to face the nurse. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”