Chapter 41 – Kolya
“ I won’t lose you again,” I promised, my words reverberating through the empty truck, as I watched the forest green jacket weave through the students filing from the dormitory.
At the building’s door, Harley paused.
My heart skipped.
When she turned, gaze sweeping the area and landing on me, the organ in my chest began to patter wildly. I was calmer with her around; my beast sated. While the rational part of my mind protested vehemently that she was in danger by staying with me, there were two arguments to that. First, she was already exposed. Fate or Divine Providence already put her back in the path of external danger. It would be safer for her now to be with me and have what protection I could offer—for her, I would destroy any threat that dared approach her. But there was the second argument that still held ground in my mind.
I lifted my hand and returned her wave. The smile she flashed me brightened the inside of my truck in a way nothing else, no other light, ever could.
That’s because you’re so dark and damaged—nearly broken.
As long as Harley was with me, she would be in danger from me.
But as she slipped out of my sight, I let out a ragged breath. Danger from me was the biggest risk we took by continuing this relationship. Needing to sort through the chaos in my mind, I began to ramble to myself, my voice filling the truck cab.
“But I’m not losing you,” I rasped, grip tightening on the wheel.
It was settled. Final. Done. Carved onto my fucking heart.
“So now we deal with the reality that I’m a broken mess,” I asserted as I pulled away from campus. “We take each day at a time, and we do little things to make sure I never—”
Images of Harley hurt by my hands filled my mind. Bruised and battered. Bleeding and suffering—dead.
I pulled onto the curb, dropped my head into my hands, and drew in breath after breath. There was no escaping the facts that I’d harmed my brothers-in-arms, good men who’d done me no wrong, in that altered state of consciousness. Harley was at risk coming to me.
Panic gripped my chest. The vise-like squeeze made it impossible to draw a proper breath.
From far away, a rat-tap-tap sounded.
“Hey, man! You okay?” a worried voice called out.
“He’s not! Call the police,” another urged.
Swimming from the hellscape of my mind, I squinted through the side window. Worried faces peered back at me through the tinted glass.
Somehow I managed to find the button and roll the damn thing down.
“Dude, you’re having a panic attack, you need me to call the EMTs?” the student asked, beanie askew on his floppy mess of hair.
I shook my head, or tried to. The movement was jerky and incomplete.
“There’s no shame asking for help,” he said kindly. “You’re pretty bad. You took out a shrub with this monster truck.”
“No cops,” I rasped.
“Then breathe with me,” the second student insisted.
“Yeah, just do some box breathing. We’ll be cool. No cops, but you need to breathe.” The first one began a series of deep, rhythmic breaths.
By the second set, I followed along.
Minutes passed and the fear ebbed.
“There, that’s better. You got some water to drink?” the hatless one asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“We can hang with you if you need. But you’ve got to move the truck before campus security gives you a fine,” the beany guy said with a wince.
“No, but thank you,” I rasped. “Get to class.”
They exchanged a skeptical look.
“I’m going to go park and call my friend.” I pointed ahead where a gas station sat on the corner of the campus.
Seeming to be satisfied, the strangers waited a few moments more before taking off to their classes.
I managed to move the truck before throwing it into park. The phone rang through the cab on the Bluetooth speaker.
“What happened?” Dimitri clipped from the other end of the line.
“I need you to shoot me.”
Silence ticked by. I couldn’t even hear Dimi breathe.
Outside, other vehicles came and went. Doors slammed as drivers jumped out to fill their tanks or ran inside for a convenient stop. Overhead, advertisements played on the speakers in a prerecorded loop.
I inhaled deeply, gasoline and windshield wiper fluid strong enough smells to revive and ground me.
“You’re going to need to explain that one, but—” my cousin raised his voice “—there are very few scenarios where I would shoot you, Kolya, and I can’t imagine this being one of them.”
The exhale didn’t shake as it left my lungs. “If I have an episode, and Harley is in any danger, I need you to promise me that you’ll shoot me before anything can happen to her.”
“Ah,” Dimitri hummed. “I see.”
I steeled myself for his arguments.
“Let me tell you why that will never happen,” Dimi began.
My protest started as a wordless burst of outrage that he was dismissing me so casually.
But he spoke over me. “You’re not going to hurt her.”
“Dimitri! I’ve killed people before!”
The sounds of the gas station faded. Walls closed around my ears. I couldn’t breathe again.
“Do you know what you did last night?” Dimitri asked, voice light and airy, completely at odds with how I felt as if he didn’t care I was suffocating.
My silence was the result of my inability to form words, to exist through the rising panic attack.
“You stepped between us, Kolya.”
I blinked. It was the one motor skill still in my control.
“You saw Luka and I as threats, and you put yourself between her and us.”
A shudder rumbled down my whole body.
I protected her. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
My voice was hoarse. “I can’t let anything happen to her.”
“You won’t.”
A ragged breath left my lungs. “Thanks, Dimi.”
“Anytime.” The phone clicked off.
I could do this. Harley and I could be together. One day at a time, but miracle of miracles, I didn’t have to lose her.
The horror ebbed, and my body thawed. Cranking the truck to drive, I crept out into the road. It was high time to see what Chicago’s underworld had to offer. If there was a way to stay here in the Windy City and not give up my vocation, I needed to pursue it! This might feel too good to be true, but for once, I embraced hope instead of radiating despair.
***
Walking through the door of the Seattle-founded café, I met the stare of the barista. I walked forward, avoiding the line at the point-of-sale, to stand before the espresso machines. Beth flicked a glance at her wrist, pursed her lips, and grabbed another cup to start filling.
“I can wait,” I offered quietly. “But I’m ready to talk.”
“Order something, and I’ll take my break.”
I glanced back at the line and grimaced. Coffee had never been something I enjoyed. But as I flicked my gaze over the menu, something about pumpkins and apples made me think of Harley.
I should try one. Oh, how she would smile when I told her.
Convinced, I joined the line, ordered, and when the beverage was finished, I took the white cup to a back table near the bathrooms.
Beth joined me a moment later, setting her nametag between us. “What changed your mind?”
“You’re good at computers. You know things.” I popped the lid off my coffee. There was brown stuff sprinkled on white foam. I sniffed at it. Spices—warm and rich, like my stepmother’s kitchen.
“You found the college girl?” Beth leaned forward, keeping her hopeful voice quiet.
I met her sparkling gaze. “I’ll raid the safe house tonight.”
“See! We would make a damn fine team,” Beth whispered.
“And what would we be doing together?” I pressed. While she considered me, I took a long sip. The hot liquid burnt my tongue, but aside from the fact that this was too damn sweet, the flavors weren’t wretched.
“I’ve been recruiting. But none of my other operatives have your…record.” Beth tapped her fingers in a steady rhythm against the tabletop. “I need a mentor for the field operations. I can find the bad guys, I have the manpower, funds, resources…but I need teams who can take them out.”
Maybe it was the sudden spike in blood sugar, but my pulse began to quicken. “A training program?”
“Exactly!” Beth said, a little too loudly. She winced, leaned forward even more, and lowered her voice. “You’re the last piece of my puzzle, Wraith. The commander to mold and lead my men.”
This could be too good to be true.
This could be an answered prayer.
For the rest of my days, as long as I wasn’t old and crippled, I would fight this cancer to society. But how I fought could change for the better. Not wanting to rush into anything, I quickly developed a plan that would benefit both parties involved.
“I’ll meet them. We’ll spend the next few weeks getting to know one another and building trust,” I agreed. “If we feel like this is a good fit for both of us, I’ll join you full-time.”
Beth gave me a time and place before hurrying behind the counter to continue her shift. This was a start. I took another long sip of my coffee. If only I’d responded to her sooner—realized there was potential. No, the past was done and there was no changing it. But now I could spend my time looking forward.