Chapter 45
SASHA
The rain is barely a mist now, just enough to cool the air. An ambulance sits parked next to the warehouse. No sirens, no lights—one of my EMT teams on the payroll. I had them here within minutes of the détente.
Gabriella sits on a stretcher inside the open doors, legs dangling, a paramedic shining a penlight in her eyes. She’s pale and exhausted, but she’s alive. Whole. She squeezes my hand every time the EMT touches her abdomen.
“She’s stable,” the medic finally says. “No trauma to the abdomen. Blood pressure’s high, but that’s understandable. She needs rest.”
I nod once. Relief washes over me, but my expression is calm.
Clouds move over the sun, the already weak sunlight fading.
Then Gabriella’s eyes light up. “Bogdan!” The name explodes out of her mouth as she springs off the stretcher and rushes toward him.
She throws her arms open and she hits him with a thud, one that makes his eyes go wide, then his face contort.
He curses in Russian, but it’s more at the pain than Gabriella.
“Easy, little one,” he says, gingerly closing his arms around her for a soft hug. “I’m not at my best.”
She pulls back instantly. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so glad to see you. I thought you were dead.”
“I came prepared,” he says, lifting his shirt to show the ruined vest. “But bullets still hit like trucks. Probably a few broken ribs.”
“You saved me,” she says. “Took a bullet for me.”
“Would’ve been better if I’d killed those assholes before they took you.” Then he turns to me. There’s genuine worry in his eyes, contrition. A little fear. “Pakhan, I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed her. And I’m the one who told her the truth.
“The truth?” I ask.
“About Peter. I thought she needed to know. I stepped out of line. I understand if you need to punish me.”
I silence him with a raised palm. “Enough.”
He forms his mouth into a flat line. He’s a good soldier, ready for whatever’s next, no matter how harsh it may be.
“You’re going to the hospital.” I nod to the ambulance. “No arguments.”
He gives a pained grimace. “I hate hospitals.”
I smirk. “That sounds suspiciously like an argument.”
Another curse in Russian, then he trudges towards the ambulance.
“After you get checked out, you’re taking care of yourself for once.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re benched, my friend. Starting immediately. One full month. Paid leave. Plus hazard pay for today. No negotiating.”
Now it’s Bogdan’s turn to feel relief. His posture relaxes. “Yes, Pakhan.”
“Go someplace warm, anywhere it doesn’t look like this.” I nod toward the gray around us.
“I hear Rome is nice this time of year,” Gabriella says with a sly smile.
“That’s what I hear, too.” I catch the underlying meaning, but I don’t pry.
Gabriella steps toward him, pulling him into another hug, softer this time. “Thank you.”
He closes his eyes, nods. “My pleasure.”
She lets him go. Bogdan and I make eye contact, and I give him the briefest of nods. Old soldiers like us don’t need speeches. He knows he did his duty, that I’m pleased with his service. Nothing more needs to be said.
When he’s gone, Gabriella steps over to me without hesitation. I cradle her face carefully, running my thumb beneath the smidge of dirt on her cheek.
“You scared me,” I say.
“I didn’t mean to.” She curls into my chest, small and warm and alive. I press my lips to her hairline, holding her just a bit tighter.
I don’t say the words. Not yet. But they’re here, hanging back in my throat. I can tell she feels them. I can tell by the way she rests her head on my chest, the way her fingers curl into my coat.
Footsteps crunch on gravel behind us. I turn. Johan approaches, suit jacket gone, his tie undone. He looks like a man who has just been through hell. Then again, he had, in a sense.
“Gabby,” he says, warmth on his words. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
She gives him a weary smile in return. “Thanks, Johan.”
He gives her a once-over, as if he’s noticed something the medic missed. “When this mess settles, you and Angie will be planning the mother of all baby showers. And I’ll make sure Father pays for it.”
In that brief moment, I find myself wondering what sort of life awaits these two, what relationship they’ll build now that they know the truth.
Gabriella laughs. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He purses his lips for an instant. “And I’m looking forward to meeting them. My nieces or nephews. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Uncle Johan.”
With a bright smile on his face, Johan nods his head politely and returns to his men. Peter and his own soldiers are nearby, preparing to leave.
Peter turns. Our eyes lock across the muddy parking lot. Rain drips from his silver hair. The exhaustion on his face makes his features droop. He’s a man ready to rest. Perhaps a man ready to retire.
The look he gives me isn’t forgiveness, and neither is the one I give him. Not even close. But it’s a conditional truce. It’s a recognition that our war nearly cost him everything, and ending it for good will take more than what happened today.
I bow my head once in return. Johan and Peter slip into a sleek, gray car. Gabriella lets out a breath as soon as the doors are shut.
“I can’t believe it’s over.”
I glance over my shoulder, watching as my cleanup team carefully carry out the bodies of Ruth and her men. What a goddamn mess.
“It’s not over yet,” I say gently. “But it’s stable.” I brush a kiss against her temple. “And that’s enough for tonight.”
I take her hand.
“Come, let’s go home.”