Chapter 26
CINDY
The compound feels smaller each day. Two weeks of lockdown, and I'm starting to get a little stir-crazy. It’s not like I’m confined to a cell. The house is huge. There is plenty to do, but it’s just the idea of being locked down.
My hand drifts unconsciously to my stomach—still flat, still keeping our secret safe beneath my ribs. The baby is still a secret. I understand why we need to keep it that way.
Although our enemies already know the truth.
And that’s why he’s out there every day trying to find anyone who poses a threat to our child.
I miss him. I miss Luka.
He leaves before dawn and returns after Leo's asleep, his jaw tight with a tension that makes my chest ache. He’s a man on a mission. I know he won’t rest until he finds Yuri. And my father.
Anna's and Drew's faces flashed across the evening news three days ago—officially identified, the reporter said with that practiced tone they reserve for tragedies.
I waited for guilt to crash over me, for some remnant of the girl who once called Anna a friend to surface and mourn.
Instead, I felt nothing but hollow relief that twisted in my stomach.
They made their choices. They chose to be evil.
I’ve checked online and there hasn’t been any mention of a funeral.
It would be Charles to arrange it, and he’s disappeared. He’s abandoned his children.
"Cindy, look!" Leo's voice cuts through my brooding as he points toward the garden fountain. We've been walking the same path for twenty minutes, but his enthusiasm never dims. A butterfly lands on the stone cherub's outstretched hand.
I have no reason to complain about my gilded prison. The grounds are beautiful. The house has everything we could want or need.
And I get to hang out with Leo.
I need to stop being so sullen.
"Beautiful," I murmur, but my eyes scan the perimeter automatically.
Luka's paranoia is contagious, apparently.
There are extra guards now. The weight of being watched never quite settles comfortably on my shoulders.
It should make me feel safe, but it only serves as a reminder of the danger lurking beyond the walls of the compound.
Leo runs ahead to get a closer look at the butterfly. It’s a gorgeous day. Not too hot. There’s a nice breeze, and I can smell the fresh-cut grass. My sense of smell feels like a superpower these days.
For a moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost peaceful.
Then I see Grigori.
He's sprinting across the courtyard with the kind of speed that makes my blood turn to ice. His face is set in grim determination, and there's something in his eyes that makes every instinct I have scream danger.
"Leo!" I call, but Grigori reaches him first.
In one fluid motion, he sweeps up the little boy under his arm like Leo weighs nothing at all. He’s carrying him like Leo is a football. For a brief second, I think maybe he’s playing. Grigori loves to roughhouse with Leo.
Before I can even process what's happening, Grigori's arm clamps around my waist like a vice. My feet leave the ground, the world tilting sickeningly as he throws me over his shoulder. My ribs slam into hard muscle, driving every bit of air from my lungs.
"Leo!" The boy's name comes out as a wheeze.
The world bounces violently—sky, ground, sky, ground. My hair whips across my face, blinding me. I can hear Leo screaming somewhere nearby, high and terrified. Mac is barking, snarling, trying to follow, not understanding why everyone is running.
A bullet whines past—so close I feel the air displacement. Grigori grunts but doesn't slow. Something warm splatters across my dangling hand. His blood? Mine?
"Get down! Get down!" Someone's screaming in Russian.
I try to lift my head to see what's happening, but Grigori's hand pushes it back down. "Stay low!"
My stomach rebels against the motion, morning sickness mixing with terror. I taste bile and swallow it down. Can't throw up. Not now. Not upside down.
"What—" I start to protest, but then I hear it.
Gunfire. Sharp, rapid pops that crack through the air like deadly fireworks. The peaceful afternoon shatters into chaos. Grigori is running hard toward the main house while my world bounces violently with each pounding step.
I hear men shouting and more gunfire.
Leo's voice cuts through the noise, high and scared. "Cindy!"
"I'm here, sweetheart!" I twist to see him, my hair whipping across my face. Tony has appeared from nowhere and taken Leo from Grigori's grip, cradling him protectively as they race alongside us.
More gunfire erupts, closer this time. I feel Grigori's body jerk beneath me, hear him grunt in pain, but his stride never falters. His arm around my thighs feels like a vise.
I realize with cold terror that we're under attack. Kozlov found us. Somehow, despite all of Luka's precautions, the wolf has come to our door.
Something warm and wet drips onto my hand where it dangles near Grigori's leg. In the chaos, it takes me a moment to understand what I'm seeing. Blood. His blood. He's been hit, but he's still moving, still protecting us with every ounce of strength he has.
"Grigori, you're hurt—"
"Keep your head down," he growls, his voice strained but steady. "We're almost there."
The main house looms ahead. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
A combination of fear and the bouncing. Guards are moving everywhere, taking positions, and shouting orders in Russian and English.
Someone yanks the door open before we reach it, and then we're inside, footsteps echoing in the marble foyer.
"Safe room, now!" Tony barks, still clutching Leo.
Everything becomes a blur. My feet touch the ground for maybe three seconds before Grigori's arm wraps around me again, guiding me toward the safe room.
Tony is right behind us with Leo, who's gone eerily quiet—the kind of quiet that means he's processing something too big for his little mind to fully grasp.
A massive steel door stands open at the end of the hall. The safe room. Grigori ushers me inside.
Tony sets Leo down gently. He immediately runs to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face against my belly. I pull him close, my hand smoothing his hair as the steel door slides shut with a sound like a tomb sealing.
We're locked in. Safe, but trapped.
"It's okay," I whisper to Leo, though my heart is hammering against my ribs. "We're safe now."
Grigori slumps against the wall, his hand pressed to his thigh where dark blood seeps between his fingers. Tony immediately moves to help him, pulling supplies from the medical kit with practiced efficiency.
"How bad?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
"Flesh wound," Grigori grunts, though his face is pale. "The bullet went straight through. I'll live."
Leo looks up at me with wide eyes. "Are the bad men here?"
I want to lie, to tell him it's just a drill, just practice. But he's been through too much already to be fooled by false reassurances. "Yes," I whisper. "But we're safe here. It’s going to be okay. Your dad will make sure we’re safe.”
Where is Luka? The question burns in my throat, but I don't voice it. He could be anywhere. The monitors flicker with images of guards taking defensive positions, but I don't see his familiar silhouette among them.
“Go,” Grigori grunts. “I’ve got it.”
I understand what they’re not saying. They need Tony out there.
“I’ll take care of him,” I say.
“Guns are there.” Tony points to a cabinet in the corner.
“I know.”
“And you know what to do if—”
“I do.”
And then he’s gone.
I take a deep breath and force a smile for Leo’s sake. “Let’s turn on your movie. We didn’t get to finish watching it.”
Leo looks at me, then Grigori.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m going to help Grigori and then we’ll have a snack and watch the movie together.”
It only takes thirty seconds to get the movie going, but every second I’m not tending to Grigori is another second he bleeds.
I grab the medical bag with shaking hands, forcing myself to focus on what needs to be done. "Grigori, roll onto your stomach. Now."
He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "I'm fine—"
"Roll over," I snap, surprising myself with the authority in my voice. "I need to see the wound."
He complies with a grunt of pain, and I immediately see why he's trying to downplay his injury. The fabric of his pants is soaked through with blood, far more than any simple flesh wound would produce.
I grab the medical scissors from the kit and start cutting away the fabric around the wound. My hands are trembling, but I force them to steady. Leo needs to see me calm. Grigori needs me to be functional.
"Oh, shit," I whisper when I see the damage.
The bullet tore through the back of his thigh, ripping muscle and probably nicking an artery. Blood pools beneath him faster than it should, and his skin has taken on a grayish pallor that makes my stomach clench.
"This is not a flesh wound," I tell him, my voice tight. "You need a hospital. You need surgery."
"Not happening," he grits out. "Compound's under siege. No one's leaving."
I press gauze against the worst of the bleeding, but it's like trying to dam a river with tissue paper. The white fabric turns crimson almost immediately.
"I need more gauze," I mutter, digging through the medical supplies. "And pressure bandages. And probably a miracle."
My hands are covered in blood now. It's warm and sticky, and the metallic smell makes bile rise in my throat. I've never done anything like this before. I fix engines, not people. But Grigori's life is literally in my hands right now, and Leo is watching everything from across the room.
I grab another handful of gauze and press down harder, trying to ignore the way Grigori's breath hitches in pain. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I know this hurts, but I have to stop the bleeding."
"You're doing good," he manages, though his voice is getting weaker. "Just... keep pressure on it."
I do, but I can feel his blood seeping between my fingers despite my efforts. This is beyond anything I can handle with basic first aid. He needs real medical attention, the kind that comes with operating rooms and blood transfusions.
"Grigori," I say quietly, trying to keep the panic out of my voice for Leo's sake. "Stay with me, okay? Keep talking to me."
"Not going anywhere," he mumbles, but his eyes are starting to lose focus.
I look at my blood-covered hands and feel something break inside me. This man took a bullet protecting Leo and me. He carried us to safety even while bleeding out, and now he might die because I don't know how to save him.
“Clot—powder.” Grigori’s words are barely a breath.
“What?”
“Clot. Bandage.”
He tries to grab the bag. I pull it closer and dump the contents. Grigori’s fingers pull at a package.
I pick it up. “WoundStat.”
“Yes. Dump. Bandage.”
I quickly read the directions. Simple enough. I dump the powder in the wound. Grigori hisses.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
I reach for more gauze and press against the wound.
To my utter relief, the bleeding slows. I almost cry..
“It’s stopped,” I say.
I look at Grigori’s pale face. His eyes are closed.
“Oh no. No, no, no.”
I shake him. He moans, and his eyes pop open.
I sigh with relief once again.
He’s alive.
For now.
I pull a blanket from the closet that is stacked with blankets, pillows, and towels. I do my best to clean him up and make him comfortable.
What’s happening out there? It feels like we’ve been in here forever.
With Grigori tended to, I need to make sure Leo is okay.
I sink into one of the chairs and pull Leo onto my lap. He's trembling. I realize, I am too.
"Tell me a story," Leo whispers against my shoulder.
I close my eyes and begin to speak, my voice weaving a tale of brave knights and safe castles while gunfire echoes somewhere above us, muffled by steel and stone but impossible to ignore.
If the safe room is breached, it will be up to me to protect Leo and myself.
I will protect him with my last dying breath.