Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kirill & Harper
Kirill
"Don't go—Harper, please—"
My voice echoed down the empty hallway, like the howl of a beast trapped at the bottom of a well. Her figure faded into the distance, that blue dress shimmering in the dim light like a vanishing wave. I tried desperately to chase after her, but my legs felt like lead, every step a brutal fight.
"Harper!"
She finally stopped, but didn't turn around. Just stood there, shoulders shaking slightly. I thought she'd spin back, give me a chance to explain, even if it meant getting chewed out. But she did nothing, just kept walking, disappearing into the blinding white light at the end of the hall.
Darkness crashed over me like a tidal wave, swallowing me whole—
I jerked awake, chest heaving, cold sweat soaking my back. Damn nightmare. That fucking nightmare again.
The glaring white ceiling stared back, the sharp sting of antiseptic filling my nose. Hospital. I was in the hospital. A dull ache throbbed in my left arm, like someone sawing at my bone with a blunt knife. I glanced down— the whole thing wrapped in bandages, looking like a goddamn mummy.
Memories trickled back. Gunshots. Blood. Harper's terrified scream. And that traitorous bastard Roman lying in a pool of his own blood.
"You're awake."
Olga's voice came from my right, perched on a chair by the bed, posture straight as ever, maintaining that flawless poise even here. But the shadows under her eyes gave her away— she'd been watching over me for hours.
I turned my head. Harper sat on the other side, cradling our child in her arms. Her eyes were swollen red, like ripe peaches, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks. She wore a wrinkled T-shirt, hair a mess, looking utterly exhausted.
But she was here. She was fucking here.
My throat tightened, words stuck.
The moment her eyes met mine, fresh tears spilled over, silent trails down her face. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but just shook her head, choking back a sob.
"I'm sorry," she finally rasped, voice shattered. "I'm sorry, Kirill. I shouldn't have— I accused you wrongly. I got you hurt. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't—"
"Hey." I cut her off, weaker than I expected. "Don't say that."
I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my left arm, making me hiss. Olga moved to help, but I waved her off. I didn't need her. What I needed was—
"If it gets you to cool off, I'd take a few more bullets." I forced a grin, knowing it probably looked like shit. "Seriously, worth it. You know how many times I've been shot? This doesn't even rate."
Harper cried harder, shoulders shaking. The baby stirred, letting out a grumpy whimper. She patted him gently, trying to soothe, but her own tears wouldn't stop.
Seeing her like that, my heart twisted like someone had grabbed it in a fist.
"I'm the one who should apologize," I said, each word dragged from deep in my chest. "I hurt you first. I didn't trust you. I—" I paused, eyes closing. "I took away your chance to see your brother one last time."
The room went dead quiet. Just the steady beep of machines and Harper's muffled sobs.
I struggled to lift my right hand—the only one that worked—and reached for her. My fingers shook, from weakness or nerves, I couldn't tell. When they brushed hers, she flinched but didn't pull away.
I gripped her fingers lightly. They were cold and slim, trembling in my palm.
"I love you."
The words exploded in the air like a dropped bomb.
Olga's eyebrow arched, but she stayed silent, just watching.
Harper looked up, tears blurring her eyes, disbelief written all over her face.
"I mean it," I pressed on, voice rough but steady. "I fell for you ages ago. I was just too fucking stupid to see it."
"Kirill—" she choked out.
"I know I don't deserve it," I interrupted. "I know I've been a bastard. I know I've hurt you, over and over. But if you'll— if you'll give me one more shot— I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life making it right. I'll be the man you deserve. I'll—"
My voice cracked. Damn, I sucked at this. Spilling my guts felt like standing naked in front of her, every inch exposed and raw.
Harper
I stared at him, at this man clutching my hand with his injured one, those eyes locked on mine, filled with a vulnerability and longing I'd never seen.
Kirill Orlov. The cold, ruthless mafia boss. The killer who didn't blink. The man I'd loved and hated for so damn long.
He said he loved me.
My heart pounded like it wanted to burst free. Tears blurred everything, turning his face into a hazy outline, just that hand reaching out.
I wanted to speak, to tell him I loved him too, that I'd loved him forever. But my throat clogged, and nothing came out.
He'd shielded me and the baby with his own body.
"Harper," he murmured, thumb stroking my hand. "I know I don't get to ask for forgiveness. I know I've done unforgivable shit. But—" He paused, voice rougher. "Will you give me another chance?"
I looked at him, at the plea and hope in his eyes. This man—who never bowed to anyone—was begging me.
Tears poured out, unstoppable.
I loved him. God, I loved him.
I hated myself for it, for being so weak, for not letting go. But I just loved him.
I'd thought I'd never have him. That his heart was Genevie's forever. That I'd rot in this one-sided hell.
But now he said he loved me.
Could I trust him? Forgive him? Did we even have a future?
But looking into those eyes, once cold as ice, now warm with want, I knew.
I stayed silent for a long time. Long enough for hope to fade from Kirill's face, for Olga to shift uncomfortably.
Then I nodded.
"I love you too," I choked out. "For so damn long. From when I thought I'd never have you. From when I hated you to my core. I still loved you."
I laughed, that bitter, teary laugh.
"I hate how much I love you. I hate being this weak. But I just— I can't stop."
Kirill's eyes lit up like flames in the dark. He pulled me in hard, baby and all, into his chest. His left arm hung useless from the wound, but his right wrapped tight, like he wanted to melt me into him.
"I swear," he whispered in my ear, voice shaking. "I'll be the man you deserve. I'll protect you and the kid with my life. I swear—"
"Shh." I cut him off, burying my face in his neck. "Stop. I believe you."
Saying it, something inside me uncoiled, finally loose.
Yeah, I believed him. Maybe stupid, maybe fooling myself, but I did.
The baby whimpered softly, tiny hand waving, brushing Kirill's chin. Kirill looked down, eyes softening incredibly.
"He doesn't look much like you," I murmured.
"Thank God," Kirill said, a real smile tugging his lips. "At least he won't inherit this ugly mug."
I laughed despite the tears.
Sunlight streamed through the window, warming us three. The antiseptic smell faded. The machine beeps sounded almost gentle.
Kirill leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my hair.
"We'll be okay," he whispered. "Our family will be okay."
I closed my eyes, leaning into his shoulder, feeling his warmth and heartbeat.
We had problems left to fix. The road ahead was thorny. We'd fight to survive in this dark world.
But right now, in this sunlit room, we were finally a real family.
And that was enough.
"Looks like I should make my exit," Olga said from the corner, standing up and heading for the door.
Heat rushed to my face— God, embarrassing, I'd forgotten she was here. But Olga just gave me a knowing smile, then slipped out and shut the door, leaving us alone.
With her gone, Kirill's hold tightened, his breath warm and steady in my hair. The baby slept soundly, little face flushed, oblivious to it all.
"Harper," Kirill said suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For coming back." His voice was low, rough. "For not giving up on me. For— for loving me."
I looked up at him, at this powerful yet fragile man, emotion swelling inside me.
"Idiot," I whispered, touching his cheek. "How could I ever give up on you?"
He turned, kissing my palm.
Outside, pigeons circled, cooing. Sunlight brightened, chasing shadows away.
We'd been through so much—betrayal, misunderstandings, hurt, loss. We'd torn each other apart, stood on opposite sides, thought we'd never find our way back.
But we did.
We became a family.