26. Maxim
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
maxim
The bastard had had a knife.
He had planned to kill her.
My wife.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened that I began to care so much.
I couldn’t stop the red haze clouding my vision as I watched Cora tremble in my arms, her breaths shallow and quick. Her cheek was smeared with soot, her skin torn where the blade had dug into the flesh. My hands itched for violence, for a reckoning that would wipe the O’Gara name from the face of the earth.
Instead, I focused on her.
“Cora,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady though it felt like gravel in my throat. Her wide eyes darted to mine, glassy with shock. “It’s over. You’re safe now.”
Kolya would have his own reckoning for letting her out of his sight. It never should have happened. I had told him to search the debris, but … fuck.
Her lip quivered, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. Instead, she swallowed hard and nodded, her bravery a sharp pang in my chest. She trembled as I lifted her, her weight light against me, though the tension in her frame told me she wasn’t used to being carried.
“Let me—” she began, but I silenced her with a look.
“Not now,” I said firmly. “You’re hurt, and I’m not negotiating with you about this.”
She fell silent, but I could feel her frustration radiating. That was good. Anger was better than fear.
Joe O’Gara was the kind of thug who thought his family’s name would protect him. A parasite feeding off the scraps of power handed down by better men. He was wrong.
I focused back on Cora. Her breathing was steadier, but she was clutching her chest, blood seeping through her fingers. Rage flared again. She needed me calm, not murderous.
At the townhouse, Lev held the door open, his gaze flicking to the blood on her coat. “Conall is sending O’Flannery,” he said.
I nodded, carrying her upstairs and laying her gently on the couch in the sitting room. She tried to sit up, but I knelt beside her, catching her hand.
“Stay still,” I ordered.
“Maxim, I?—”
“Cora,” I interrupted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Please.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it, soft and unguarded. Her eyes widened slightly, but she obeyed, leaning back against the cushions. I wanted to vomit apologies, toss the head of the man who did this at her feet, devour her in his blood — all of those things — any of them to beg her forgiveness for letting this happen.
Instead, I grabbed the first aid kit from the side table and settled beside her. The room was quiet, save for her shallow breaths and the crackle of the fireplace. I tore open a packet of gauze and pressed it gently against the wound, ignoring her wince.
“It’s deep,” I said, more to myself than to her. “You’ll need stitches.”
Her voice was small when she finally spoke. “He followed me.”
I nodded. “From Dublin.”
She swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to—” Guilt hovered in her eyes, and I wanted to rage and roar at it being there. That this dumbfuck thought he could make her feel bad about the joy she took in her exploration of her art.
“You don’t have to explain,” I said firmly, turning her chin so she saw my intent clearly. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine . I should have protected you better.”
She blinked, startled by the admission, and I looked away, focusing on cleaning the wound. When the knock came at the door, Lev let the doctor in.
“He could have hurt one of you. I never thought that something like that would ever happen.” Her voice was soft as she watched me carefully.
I didn’t give two shits about someone coming for me, but coming for her was bullshit. There was a code that should have been followed anyway. The O’Gara’s broke that. We never touched women and children.
O’Flannery was a wiry man with quick hands and a sharp tongue, but his demeanor softened as he examined Cora. “You’re a lucky young lady. Another inch and that knife could’ve done real damage.”
She nodded mutely.
He doused the wound with numbing spray, then moved quickly and efficiently as he sewed even tiny stitches. As O’Flannery worked, stitching the gash below her collarbone, I stayed close, watching every wince and flinch. When he finished, he glanced at me. I didn’t need the reminder that she was lucky. That fucker could have chosen to cut her deeper or sliced her throat, and I couldn’t have done anything.
“The other cuts and scrapes don’t need stitches but should be cleaned,” he said. “She needs rest. Keep an eye on her for signs of infection. If there’s anything else, call me.”
I nodded, and he packed his bag, pausing to give me a nod. “Take care of her, Mr. Volkov. She’s tougher than she looks, but she’s not invincible.”
Once he was gone, I turned back to her. She looked exhausted, her face pale against the dark fabric of the couch.
“Cora,” I said softly.
She opened her eyes, the vulnerability in them cutting deeper than I expected. “You’re angry,” she said.
“Yes.”
“At me?”
I shook my head, brushing my knuckles against her cheek. “At myself. But not you.”
She searched my face as if looking for something, then relaxed slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For saving me.”
For a moment, I just looked at her, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her face. “You don’t need to thank me,” I said quietly. “You’re mine to protect.”
She frowned, but before she could argue, I stood. I needed to plan. Joe O’Gara had made this personal, and the O’Gara family would pay in blood for what they’d done. I’d wipe them all from the earth.
But first, I needed to make sure Cora was safe. I would die before I let anyone else touch her.
A scratching at my trouser leg drew my attention, breaking through the storm of rage that churned in my chest. Frowning, I looked down, half-expecting to see nothing. Instead, that small, bedraggled kitten—a grey mix with matted fur and wide, imploring eyes—stared up at me. Its tiny claws clung to my pant leg like it had decided I was its last hope.
I stiffened. Of all the creatures in the world, cats were the ones I liked least. Their unpredictable movements and the way they seemed to see through people unnerved me in ways I hated to admit, and now, one was trying to climb me like a tree.
Cora’s soft giggle made me glance up. She watched Clyde, her lips parting in a mixture of surprise and something that looked suspiciously like delight. “Max,” she breathed, her voice tinged with wonder.“He likes you.”
I looked back at the kitten, gently dislodging it with my foot. It refused to let go, meowing pathetically as its claws stuck to my pant leg.
“It’s just a cat,” I muttered, stepping back.
“It’s not just a cat,” Cora said, her tone firm despite her weariness. “Look at it—he was abandoned. Left alone by his family. We have to be his family now.”
I tried not to look too closely, but I couldn’t ignore the thinness of its frame or the small cut along one ear. Its meow was barely more than a squeak, and even my unease couldn’t smother the faint pang of pity it stirred.
“I’ll call Lev,” I said, already reaching for my phone. “He can take it somewhere?—”
“No!” Cora’s protest was so sharp it startled me. She struggled to sit up, wincing as she moved too quickly. “Don’t send him away. Please.”
I hesitated, torn between wanting to argue and the soft plea in her voice. Her fingers trembled as she reached toward the kitten, her movements slow and careful. “Come here, sweetheart,” she murmured.
“Stop moving,” I ordered. “I’ll give it to you.” The reluctance wasn’t faked as I reached for the kitten. “Why doesn’t it have bones?” It felt like it had no skeleton inside. “Am I going to squish it? How do you hold these things?
My hands weren’t made to hold delicate things. Clyde made soft little huffing noises, looking completely unconcerned as I heaved it off the ground.
“They have bones. You can feel the tiny ribs.”
I was appalled and dropped it on her without preamble. I didn’t want to feel its ribs or any part of it. The kitten felt too fragile in my hands.
“There,” she whispered, stroking its fur with gentle fingers. “You’re safe now.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, echoing the ones I’d said to her not long ago. I watched her cradling it, her eyes soft despite the pain she was in.
“You can’t keep it,” I said gruffly, though the fight was already leaving me.
Cora looked up at me, her expression so unguarded it made my chest ache. “Why not?”
“It’s a cat,” I said, as though that explained everything.
“I’m keeping it,” she countered, her voice gaining strength.
I opened my mouth to argue but closed it again when the kitten released a contented purr, nestling closer to her. My dislike of cats warred with the realization that I’d lost this battle the moment it had appeared.
“Fine,” I said finally, pinching the bridge of my nose. “But it stays in the kitchen, and Lev feeds it.”
Cora’s smile was small but victorious.
I growled, turning away to hide the way her gratitude affected me. I’d let her have this small victory.
The kitten kept its eyes on me, its unblinking stare making my skin crawl. It was as though it knew I was afraid and liked it.
Perfect. Now I had two lives to protect: my wife and her damn cat.