Chapter 38 Sofia
SOFIA
As soon as Andre left, I called Esmeralda.
It had already been so long since I’d talked to her, since I’d seen her.
Missing her was something I had to face in the present and in regard to the future.
She was here on limited time, and now that I’d embraced Andre’s love and knew he wanted to support me, I had the freedom to be reunited with her.
Once my uncle was dead.
Worry and fear filled me as I watched the car pull away. Andre was heading into danger—for me, for our baby, for us—and I was tense with dread that something could go wrong.
It was a necessary risk to take, though, and I tried to distract myself from anxiety that he could be hurt by looking forward to how I’d thank him and show my appreciation when he returned.
Talking to my cousin was another distraction, and I enjoyed the chance to see her with my own eyes. To hear her voice.
She did look better, with a little more color in her face and a new and clean beanie on her head to keep her adequately warm with how she’d lost her hair from treatments and chemo.
The most beautiful of all was the smile that transformed her face upon seeing me again.
“I feel like I need to pinch myself,” she admitted. “That this is a dream.”
I shook my head. “It’s not. But I know what you mean. It does feel surreal.”
Mikhail and Claire arranged for her to have a private room, something much better than what I’d been independently planning for her.
They claimed that a private suite would be more ideal for security purposes, and I supposed that was true.
Because she had her own room, we could talk more freely, but I was overjoyed to hear her explain how she could go and be near other patients in the open area.
Depriving her of socialization was one of the cruelest things my uncle had done to her.
“From a nightmare to a dream,” she said.
“The nightmare is ending tonight,” I replied.
“Godspeed to your baby daddy,” she said, a sly smile on her lips.
I grinned, giddy to be able to share that news with her.
“You know, when I told you to live life to the fullest, I didn’t mean for him to fill you with a new life.”
I laughed at her raunchiness, loving that she could be more of her old self. It was still a shell, with her prognosis unchangeable. But her spirit was unbreakable, even with all she’d gone through.
“I look forward to meeting him and congratulating him myself,” she said.
“You can tomorrow, at our wedding.”
She coughed on the sip of water she took. “What?”
“Or maybe it’s not called a wedding if we’re just eloping. But you’ll be there.”
We talked some more, mostly about Andre and how I wanted to believe that I had honest-to-God happiness within reach.
I asked more about how she was doing too, and she didn’t hold back from telling the truth.
She also shared her opinions about Anya and Claire, who’d come to the hospice to make sure things were going smoothly.
She hung up with me, citing her fatigue as a reason for us to video call later. Her yawns became more frequent, and while I hated to end this call with her, I knew I could see her soon.
Just after we ended the call, the front door opened.
I shot to my feet and spun, watching Andre enter the apartment.
“Andre!”
I ran to him, knowing that it probably looked worse than it actually was. He’d gone to war for me. He’d willingly entered a fight for us. He wouldn’t look well-rested and fresh.
Staggering in and wincing, he clutched his shoulder and seemed to look for a place to sit. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said gruffly.
“What?” I reached him, letting him lean on me.
He strained, clenching his jaw as I guided him to the couch. “He wasn’t there. Fucking coward. They opened fire and weren’t planning to do anything but try to kill me.”
“I’m not surprised,” I replied, trying to stay level-headed and focused.
He was wounded, clearly shot with how he held a blood-stained hand to his shoulder. “Oh, Andre. That’s the same side…”
He nodded, dropping onto the couch. “We didn’t lose anyone. But now I have to wait again to…” Closing his eyes, he cringed and caught his breath.
“My God.” I ran to get a first-aid kit—because I was that kind of a worry-wart and wanted to know where it was as soon as we came here—and returned to him to help with the injury.
All the stitches I’d given him months ago were long gone, but the scar tissue was a mess, cut up again with a bullet embedded in him.
“How could they let you stay like this and…” I scowled as I watched him wince and moan in pain.
“I knew you’d be here. My little nurse. My love.” His hand found mine and he squeezed. “Oleg was taken to the clinic. He was shot too.”
At the news of Oleg being out of this safehouse, an apartment building, I couldn’t help but be more nervous. Oleg was his assistant. His right-hand man. I knew I was safe so long as Andre was with me. But he was wounded. Almost drugged and sluggish.
“I think the ammo was tipped with something,” he drawled, slurring his voice.
Oh, shit. I compressed the wound on his shoulder and searched for tweezers.
The metallic sheen of the bullet was visible, and I was glad it hadn’t gone any further.
I was no surgeon, but if leaving that thing in him was causing more harm, I’d get it out immediately then double down on compressing the wound.
He barely reacted other than with moans and grunts of discomfort and pain as I pried at the bullet to get it out. It seemed more like a dart than a bullet, but I was no expert.
He will be okay.
They all will be.
“Easy,” I told him gently. “Take this nice and slow,” I whispered as I tried to grasp the object in his flesh.
But he’s still out there.
He said Uncle Roberto wasn’t there.
What if…
I winced at the fear that he could still be a threat. To me. To Andre. My baby. Any of the Orlovs.
No. Stop it.
It will be fine.
Guards are stationed here.
No one is—
I blew out a deep breath of relief as I got the bullet. Dart. Whatever it was, it was out. I set it on the opened flap of the first-aid bag.
As soon as I pressed another rag to Andre’s wound, the door banged open.
“I need—”
I whirled around, assuming that it was one of the Orlov guards rushing in to assist.
But it wasn’t.
A spike of icy fear shot up my spine at the face of a Giovanni guard at the door. A knife in hand. Murderous rage in his scowl.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck no.
He advanced into the apartment, glaring at me then eyeing Andre.
“No.” I stood, lowering my hand to grab a scalpel out of the first-aid kit next to Andre’s thigh. Holding it out, I embraced that same fiery energy I’d learned to welcome when I had been taken and beaten.
This need to protect.
To defend.
To stand between anyone my uncle commanded and the one I loved.
“You traitorous bitch,” he growled, stepping closer.
I closed my fingers around the scalpel. It was a small blade. A sharp edge intended to be used to help a patient. Not in defense, but it was better than nothing. Summoning every ounce of courage I could find, I positioned myself between Andre and the door. Between my future and a symbol of my past.
“Get out. Get the hell away from here,” I ordered.
“No. You’re going to pay. You’re going to die alongside your fucking Orlov filth.” He bared his teeth, breathing hard. “I’ll kill you for the boss. You and that bastard spawn. Then him!”
I jumped, nervous as he lunged forward a step.
But I didn’t back down. My heart raced so fast, sending blood rushing through me and highlighting the inflammation of all the injuries and bruises that still healed.
My lungs couldn’t fill fast enough with the shallow pants of air I sucked in.
Panic threatened to weaken me. I grew lightheaded with the pinpoint of dread.
A guard had to be coming. This one man must have followed Andre here and thought he could sneak in. But that wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. Mikhail ran a tight ship and all his men were trained. They weren’t sloppy with their calculations.
Mikhail Orlov would never let his son be in the way of danger. But just in case something had gone wrong. If all the security had been bypassed…
“You will not get past me,” I warned, determined to protect my man, stubborn to defend my future.
I was no pawn here. I wouldn’t be seen as a thing to use, dismiss, or dispatch on any stupid, ill-fated missions.
Until help came, I would stand here and be Andre’s equal in standing up to my uncle’s regime.
He laughed, spittle flying from his lips. “Oh, I won’t?” He shook his head like I was a joke. “That’s probably what all those Orlov soldiers thought as I followed that motherfucker back here.” He pointed at Andre on the couch, his knife tip dripping with blood.
He was unhinged. High on the “glory” of serving my uncle. Bloodlust shone in his menacing glare, but it wouldn’t dissuade me from standing up to the evil they perpetuated.
“You’re dead, bitch. I’ll see to it if it’s the last thing I can do for the boss.”
I shook my head, stepping side to side to counter him. Mere feet spanned between us. A small side table was the only hurdle that he’d need to pass to reach me.
“No.” I had too much to live for. I had too much love to give and cherish. Andre and I were starting a family, and this mama-bear protectiveness wasn’t waning.
“This is what you deserve for turning traitor,” he shouted, stepping forward.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
Where’s my phone?
Where is a guard?
I steadied my arm, holding it forward as I glanced at Andre.
Please. Please, wake up.
“I’m not a traitor,” I argued, trying to stall the guard.
“You are! You chose to defy the boss. You had aligned with him!” He thrust his knife in the direction of Andre on the couch. “And for that, you will—”
“Never be alone again,” I shouted, finishing his claim as I saw fit.
He laughed, holding out his free hand. “Looks like you are now. Who’s going to save you this time?”
I rotated my wrist to be in a more ideal stance to attack. They did say the best defense was offense, right?
“I will,” I growled.
I would fight for my love, for my chosen family, until my last breath.