Chapter 31 – NIKOLAI
Chapter
Thirty-One
NIKOLAI
P ain.
That's the first thing I register as consciousness creeps back in. Every breath sends fire shooting through my back. My head feels like it's been stuffed with broken glass. I try to move, but my limbs are heavy, uncoordinated.
Where the fuck am I?
Images flash through my mind in disjointed fragments. The airfield. The chaos. The Knight tearing through my men like they were made of paper. The sound of chains snapping, of screams, of...
Cosima.
The name tears from my throat in a ragged moan before I can stop it. I remember her now. Silver hair streaming behind her as she ran into the forest.
And the Knight...
That fucking monstrosity was going after her.
I have to get up. Have to find her before?—
"She's not here."
The voice comes from somewhere to my left, quiet and hollow. Familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten with emotions I've spent years drowning in vodka and blood.
Chief among them is fucking rage.
My vision swims as I force my eyes open. The room gradually comes into focus. Concrete walls, dim fluorescent lighting, the lingering scent of antiseptic. Some kind of cell or holding area.
And there, across the room, is Raven.
He's slumped against the wall, golden hair falling in his face. He looks... wrong. Broken. The usual manic energy that radiates off him like sunlight is gone.
A metal collar gleams around his neck, chain trailing to a ring set into the wall behind him. The sight takes me back to the day I found him all those years ago. Has to be about a decade now, but I've never been the sentimental type who keeps track of that shit.
He wore a collar then, too. A flashier one, but the sight still pisses me the fuck off more than it has any right to.
All that running and this is where you ended up, huh, little bird?
I shift, trying to get a better look at him, and feel cold metal against my own throat. My hand flies up, fingers brushing against an identical collar. Except mine is covered in rust. Guess Geo was hoping if the gunshots didn't finish me off, the tetanus would do the job eventually.
That bastard collared us both. And he took my goddamn glasses.
"Your psycho boyfriend finally tied you up too, huh?" I croak, my voice rough from disuse. How long was I out?
Raven's lips twist into a bitter smile. "He's not my boyfriend. He's my Daddy."
I can't help the harsh laugh that escapes me, even though it sends fresh pain shooting through my back. "Is there a difference?"
"Yes." Raven's voice is sharp, brittle. "The latter is always a colossal fucking disappointment."
I snort, trying to push myself up again. This time, I manage, but my arms are still bound and I'm too fucking weak to do shit about it. It's not just the gunshots. I can tell I've been drugged. Probably by whatever quack Geo got to patch me up,
But that was a lifetime ago.
"How long have we been here?" I mutter.
Raven shrugs, the movement making his chain rattle. "Hard to tell. The doctor comes and goes. You were out for most of it."
Holy shit.
She's out there without me. Without protection.
With that thing .
"She's not dead," Raven says as if he's reading my mind in that listless tone that makes his voice sound foreign and so unlike the one that mocks me in my dreams.
"And how would you fucking know?" I demand, propping myself against the wall behind me, ignoring the agony that burns through my chest.
"Because she's my mate," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.
I scoff, the sound harsh in the concrete cell. "Your mate ? Either the stress of living on your own in the Outer Reaches has finally cooked your egg, or you're an even bigger liar than you were before."
"I'm not lying," he snaps, some of that familiar fire finally returning to his voice. "I felt it the moment I saw her."
"Right. Just like you 'felt it' with the beta twins in Belvast. And that Reinmichian guard who?—"
"That was different!" Raven cuts me off, his chain rattling as he sits up straighter. "This is real. I know it is."
"Like I said. You're either delusional," I drawl, "or you're just using her as an excuse to get my attention again. Which is it, little bird?"
That sets him off. He lunges forward as far as his chain will allow, teeth bared in a snarl that would be more impressive if it was on literally anyone else's face.
"Don't you dare call me that," he hisses.
"And how are you so sure she isn't my mate?
What makes you such a fucking expert, you soulless warlord? "
"Because she's mine !"
The words tear from my throat before I can stop them, echoing off the concrete walls. Silence instantly falls between us. Raven stares at me, his blue eyes wide with shock. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he processes what I've just said.
"You're fucking lying," he finally whispers.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Seems like we're at a standoff then, doesn't it?"
Raven falls silent again, his gaze distant as he mulls over this new information. I can see the exact moment it really sinks in. His jaw clenches and he lifts his chin in a defiant little tilt.
"No," he says, shaking his head. "No, that's impossible. Someone as pure and elegant as Cosima could never be destined to be with such a… barbarian . It's a fate too cruel."
I can't help it. I throw my head back and laugh even though the movement sends fresh pain shooting through my back. It's worth it for the way Raven's face contorts with indignation.
" Pure ?" I wheeze through my laughter. "Have you even met her? She's more of a psycho than either one of us."
And I mean it as a compliment. She's everything I never imagined an omega could be.
Raven's fists grip the bars that separate our cells. "I'll cut out your tongue if I ever hear you sullying her name like that again," he snarls.
"It was a compliment, you anthropomorphic feather boa."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what it means, fop ."
"Mongrel!"
"Spoiled brat."
"Irradiated psychopath!"
"Neurotic whore!"
"Illegitimate mafia trash!"
That one hits harder than I'd like to admit.
My lip curls back in a snarl, ready to remind him exactly who pulled him out of that brothel, who taught him everything he knows about survival.
But before I can unleash the venom building on my tongue, the heavy door at the top of the stairs creaks open.
Raven and I exchange a look, an unspoken truce passing between us as footsteps echo down the concrete steps. We immediately fall back into old rules that haven't bound us for years, but still chafe against the thought of outsiders seeing us at each other's throats.
That's private.
Family business.
A tall man in a white doctor's coat I can only assume is the one who patched me up appears at the bottom of the stairs, medical bag in hand. He looks between us warily, no doubt sensing the tension in the air.
"Well," he says dryly, "at least you're both conscious this time."
"Ryefield," Raven says bitterly.
I take it they know each other.
I eye the doctor warily as he approaches my cell, keys jingling in his hand.
He's tall and lanky, with graying hair at his temples and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
The kind of guy who probably would have had a cushy job in some fancy hospital before the world went to shit.
Instead, he's patching up criminals in an underground dungeon.
Funny how life works out.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, his tone clinical as he unlocks my cell door.
"Like I've been shot in the back," I drawl. "Twice."
He gives me an unimpressed look as he kneels beside me, pulling various instruments from his bag. "Your sense of humor remains intact, I see. That's a good sign."
"I aim to please," I say with a sharp grin. "Speaking of aiming, where's your boss? Still nursing his wounded pride after shooting a man who was walking away from him?"
"Geo is... occupied," the doctor says carefully, pressing a stethoscope to my chest. "Deep breath."
I comply, wincing at the sharp stabbing sensation that feels like fresh bullets going straight through me. "Occupied with what? Brooding in front of his security monitors?"
His lips twitch. "Something like that." He moves the stethoscope, listening intently. "Your lung function is improving. The transfusion seems to have helped."
That gets my attention. "Transfusion?" I ask sharply. "Whose fucking blood did you give me?"
From across the room, Raven raises his hand and wiggles his fingers at me with a smirk. "O-negative. You're welcome."
I grimace, my lip curling in disgust. "Great. Just what I needed. I better not turn into a weretwink."
"Too late for that," Raven says sweetly. "The transformation begins at midnight. Hope you like glitter and lip gloss."
I try to catch his scent, to verify if he's telling the truth, but my sinuses are still fucked from when Cosima broke my nose. A little parting gift from my omega. All I can smell is the lingering antiseptic and the musty concrete of the cell.
The doctor ignores our bickering, checking my vitals with practiced efficiency. "Well, you're healing remarkably well," he says finally, sitting back on his heels. "Which means it's time for another dose of sedative."
My muscles tense instinctively. Even with my arms bound, I might be able to take him down. He's not exactly built for combat, and if I can just get those keys...
A soft whimper from across the room draws my attention. Raven is pressed against the bars of his cell, his face twisted in what looks like pain.
"What's wrong?" the doctor asks, frowning as he turns toward him.
"I don't... I don't feel well," Raven says, his voice weak and trembling. "I'm so hot..."
The doctor's frown deepens. "The temperature in here is perfectly regulated."
"No, it's not that," Raven pants, pressing himself closer to the bars. His face is convincingly flushed, his eyes heavy lidded in a look I remember well. "It's... uhm..."