Chapter 4 - Kliment #2
“But I acknowledge the debt that you have put me under by saving my life. And a Chernykh never forgets their debts.”
Silence stretched between us, heavier this time, and I looked away first, my gaze shifting to the road ahead.
“Why were you there?” I asked.
She didn’t answer immediately.
“Why were you following me?” she asked in reply, forcing me to look at her. I stayed silent, and her lips curved into a smile. “Don’t ask questions when you aren’t ready to give answers yourself.”
“I noticed how you switched cars three times to get there,” I continued. “You don’t use a burner phone for nothing, and you don’t walk into a warehouse like that unprepared unless you expect something.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Long enough.”
She considered that. “And you didn’t think to intervene or catch me sooner? If you were following me, you must have had a motive.”
“I do.”
“So why save me now?”
I met her eyes again. “Because the gun was at your head.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her more than anything else could have.
“I was meeting someone,” she said.
“That much I know, Misha,” I said, her name rolling off my tongue like it belonged there.
“He knew more than he was supposed to.”
“He is dead now.”
“Yes.”
Her jaw tightened slightly at that, not out of regret but out of frustration. The signal was subtle, but it was enough for me to notice. It only meant that whatever it was she had come to get, she hadn’t gotten it.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said.
“You didn’t answer mine,” she replied.
Fair. I leaned back slightly, trying to study her again.
“I know your patterns enough to know that you are not careless,” I said. “So whatever you’re involved in, I am sure it matters.”
“It does.”
“And clearly it’s not something your brothers know about because they would have died themselves before letting you walk into a situation like that all alone with no security to help or protect you.”
Her eyes flickered, and that was all the confirmation I needed.
“Don’t tell them anything,” she said.
The words came quietly, but they were firm. It was not a request but a condition instead. I watched her for a long moment.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because they’ll either force me to shut it down,” she said. “Or take it over and bury it.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“No.”
“You trust me more than you trust them?” I asked.
“No,” she said immediately. “I don’t trust you at all.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because you benefit from not telling them,” she replied. “Just like I do. So why not keep it that way?”
Interesting.
I knew she wasn’t wrong in her assessment.
I didn’t want them to find out just as much as she didn’t want them to find out, even though our motives were starkly different from one another.
The SUV slowed as we turned onto a narrow, unmarked street.
The Romanov safe house came into view seconds later.
It was nondescript and quiet, invisible to anyone not really looking for it.
I had built it that way. We stopped right outside the main gates.
I stepped out first, then reached back in to lift her again before she could attempt to stand, and to my surprise, she didn’t protest this time.
Taking her in my arms, I walked through the open doors, already familiar with the place.
Inside, the house was exactly as I had left it.
Clean and functional, with minimal decorations and furnishings.
Without wasting any time, I carried her straight to the main room and set her down carefully on the couch.
“Don’t move,” I said.
“I wasn’t planning on running anywhere, I promise,” she said, her tone humorous.
For someone who was injured, she sure still had a sense of humor.
I moved to the cabinet and retrieved the medical kit, bringing it back with me.
She watched me the entire time as her gaze tracked every movement.
I could sense she was still assessing and measuring.
I knelt in front of her, reaching for the hem of her jacket.
“This is going to hurt,” I said.
“I assumed.”
I peeled the fabric back carefully, exposing the wound. Blood had already soaked through, but the bleeding had slowed significantly. That was a good sign.
“The bullet only grazed through,” I muttered.
“Told you I’ve had worse.”
I ignored that and worked efficiently, cleaning the wound while applying pressure to contain the bleeding upon impact.
I dressed it with practiced precision. I could not help but notice how she didn’t flinch when I touched the injury and didn’t try to pull away in pain.
Instead, her breathing remained steady and controlled.
Only the slight tightening of her fingers against the cushion betrayed the pain.
For someone who looked as soft and fragile as her, she had guts of steel.
“You’re very composed,” I said.
“I don’t see the benefit in panicking.”
“Most people panic no matter what.”
“Most people don’t survive things like this.”
I glanced up at her briefly and chuckled, knowing she was right.
Our world was a unique one, and not everyone could understand or survive it.
Misha Chernykh was clearly experienced. When I moved to her foot, she tensed slightly, which was enough to tell me that it hurt more than she was ready to say out loud.
“Let me see it,” I said.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s clearly not.”
She took a deep breath and finally extended her leg towards me, as carefully as possible. I examined it, pressing lightly along the joint to check for any serious injuries. She didn’t react immediately, but when I hit the wrong spot, her breath hitched just slightly.
“You have a serious sprain,” I said. “Possibly a minor fracture, but only an X-ray will be able to confirm that.”
“Can you fix the sprain?”
“I can try and stabilize it so your foot begins healing.”
“I think that would be more than enough for now.”
I wrapped it quickly, securing the joint to prevent further damage.
It only took a few more minutes before I was finally finished.
I leaned back slightly, studying her again.
Despite the blood on her skin and the pain in her body, she sat upright as if nothing could bend her.
Still looking at me like she hadn’t just nearly died.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said.
“Neither are you.” She shifted slightly, adjusting herself against the couch. “I’m staying here.”
It wasn’t a question or a request, and I raised a brow in wonder.
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“It is,” she replied calmly. “You know perfectly well that I am not in a position to move, and going back to the estate like this raises too many questions.”
“Your brothers will notice you’re gone.”
“It’s alright. I can’t worry about that right now. I need to get better, and I need to get better quickly. I will return home when I can walk without a limp.”
“What will I get?” I asked, leaning back.
She met my gaze directly. “You get answers.”
Silence settled between us again while I studied her.
The fact that she had just walked into something that could have killed her and was already planning her next move instead of dwelling on the outcome astounded me.
I had intended to kill her. That had been the plan.
But everything was suddenly complicated.
Now I was sitting in a safe house with her blood on my hands, stabilizing her injuries instead of ending her life.
I leaned back slightly, my gaze still locked on hers.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I said quietly.
“No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t. But it did anyway. I believe we really cannot anticipate outcomes and make the world turn according to our will.”
She was right.
And for the first time since this hunt had begun, I was no longer certain what the end of it was supposed to look like.