2. Ruslan
2
RUSLAN
I hear distant and distorted voices around me, like I'm underwater and someone's calling from the shore. A light flickers through my eyelids, harsh and clinical. My body feels like it's weighted with concrete, and every inch of me screaming with muted pain.
The voices grow clearer. And slowly they take shape into the familiar cadence of Russian.
Artyom.
I force my eyes open. The light blinds me momentarily, and I blink hard to clear my vision.
Suddenly, I'm assaulted by a cacophony of sensations. Beeping machines, chattering nurses, and the ever-present smell of antiseptic.
"You're awake." Artyom leans forward in his chair beside my bed, his face drawn tight with exhaustion.
Deep shadows beneath his eyes mark the hours—or has it been days?—that he's been here.
My throat feels like sandpaper. I try to speak but only manage a rasping cough.
"The girls are safe." Artyom places a hand on my arm. "Stella, Sofia, and Mikayla are all waiting outside with six of our best men. We fought off the Triads just in time."
Relief washes through me, momentarily dulling the pain shooting through my chest and shoulder. The girls are safe. Whatever else happened, whatever else is coming, at least I kept that promise.
I try to speak, but can only manage to croak out an indecipherable sound.
"Three bullets. One grazed your shoulder, one went clean through your side, the third," Artyom pauses. "The third missed your heart by centimeters. The doctors say it's a miracle you're alive."
Not a miracle. Just Dragunov stubbornness.
Death knows better than to take me before I'm ready.
I try to sit up, but white-hot pain lances through me. That's when I notice it. A smear of red to Artyom's right. I blink hard, trying to focus through the haze of painkillers.
It's a woman. Red hair. Hunched forward in her chair, hands clasped tight.
Hannah.
My heart monitor betrays me, suddenly beeping faster. If Hannah is here…
"Where's Aurora?" I find my voice again and rip the words from my throat, rough and desperate.
Hannah lifts her head, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. The look on her face makes my blood run cold.
"Kristofer took her." Her voice breaks. "He had a knife to my throat and made her choose. She went with him to save me."
My heart slams against my injured chest. Each beat sends shockwaves of pain through my body, but it's nothing compared to the agony tearing through my mind.
"When?" I demand, trying to push myself up despite the tubes and wires tethering me to the machines.
Artyom places a firm hand on my shoulder. "Ruslan, you need to rest."
"How fucking long has she been gone?" My voice cracks like thunder in the sterile room.
"Hours," Hannah whispers. "It happened hours ago."
I turn to Artyom, feeling panic rise like bile in my throat. "What time is it?"
"Just after ten," he says quietly. "You've been here five hours."
Five hours. Five fucking hours while Aurora is in the hands of that monster. Images flash through my mind. Aurora terrified. Aurora hurt. Aurora thinking I abandoned her.
I've failed her. Just like I failed Leslie.
"Where is he taking her?" I ask Hannah, my voice shaking with barely contained fury. "Did he say anything about where they were going?"
Hannah shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know. He just kept saying they were going to be happy together."
The monitor beside my bed begins to wail as my heart rate spikes. A nurse rushes in, but I wave her away.
"Get me out of this bed," I growl at Artyom, yanking at the IV in my arm. "Now."
"You'll die if you leave," Artyom snaps back.
"She'll die if I stay!" I roar, and the effort sends shooting pain through my chest. Black spots dance across my vision.
The nurse calls for backup as my blood pressure climbs dangerously high. The machine screams in protest.
More nurses rush in, surrounding my bed like vultures. Their hands grabbing at tubes, adjusting dials, speaking in rapid medical shorthand that blurs together.
"Mr. Dragunov, you need to calm down," a stern-faced nurse with steel-gray hair commands. "Your heart rate is dangerously elevated."
"Get these fucking tubes out of me," I growl, ripping at the IV taped to my arm. "My wife is out there!"
"Sir, hospital protocol requires you remain under observation for at least twenty-four hours after surgery." Her voice carries the weight of someone who's dealt with unruly patients before. "You've sustained multiple gunshot wounds. One nearly punctured your heart."
"I don't give a fuck about my heart when my wife is in danger. Do you understand?"
The pain in my chest feels like someone's driving a red-hot poker through it, but it's nothing—nothing—compared to the thought of Aurora in the hands of that monster.
The nurse doesn't flinch. "I don't care if you're the President of the United States. In this hospital, I'm in charge and I'll be goddamned if I let you die on my fucking watch."
She nods to another nurse who injects something into my IV line. Almost immediately, I feel a creeping warmth spreading through my veins.
"What did you just give me?" My words already starting to slur. My limbs growing heavy.
"Something to help lower your blood pressure and keep you reasonable."
The room begins to swim before my eyes. I fight against the medication, but it's like trying to swim through concrete.
"Artyom." I switch to Russian, desperate for him to understand how important this is. "Find her for me. Please."
"We need to inform the Vori that you are alive first, Ruslan," Artyom replies softly in Russian. "And that both Semyon and the Triads have taken action against you."
"Fuck the Vori ," I manage in English, my voice barely above a whisper now. "Find Aurora. That's what matters. She's all that matters."
I want to scream, to demand that I be let out of this fucking hospital bed, but the drugs are pulling me under.
Every muscle in my body feels like lead.
"You need to rest, Ruslan," Hannah says, cutting through the haze. Her voice is steady, but I can see her hands are shaking. "There's nothing you can do for Aurora in your current state."
I channel what's left of my fading strength into a glare that would make most of my men retreat.
But Hannah doesn't back down.
"Listen." She steps closer to the bed, wiping tears from her face with an angry swipe. "Aurora is one of the most resourceful people I've ever met. If there's anyone who can find a way out from Kristofer while you recover, it's her."
The world swims before my eyes. I try to focus on Hannah's face through the fog of medication. Her words pierce the veil of my despair like rays of sunlight.
"She escaped him once before, Ruslan. When she was just a scared nineteen-year-old girl." Hannah's voice cracks with emotion but gains strength as she continues. "She crossed the entire country alone, built a new life from nothing. She survived seven years without anyone's help."
I latch onto these words like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. Maybe Hannah's right. Maybe my zarechka is stronger than I've given her credit for. She's survived so much already.
But what if…
"Do you really believe that?" I rasp, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.
Hannah meets my gaze unflinchingly, her expression fierce despite her tear-stained cheeks.
"It's the only thing I can believe," she whispers. "Because the alternative is too awful to imagine."
The truth of her confession sends fresh tears burning behind my eyes as the drugs drag me deeper into my hospital bed.
I feel the darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision. The medication is dragging me under, but I fight it like a drowning man struggling against the tide.
"You're right," I admit, my voice barely audible over the machines monitoring my broken body. "Both of you."
The admission tastes bitter on my tongue, but the truth often does. I turn my heavy head toward Artyom, summoning what's left of my strength.
"Contact Gregor. Tell him I'm alive." Each word is a battle against the sedative's pull. "Tell him Semyon moved against me... that the Triads were involved. That this is war."
Artyom nods, his face grim in the harsh hospital light. "I'll handle it, my pakhan."
I try to nod but my head feels impossibly heavy. I reach out, grasping Artyom's wrist with what little strength I have left.
"Artyom, before you go..." The words slur together as I fight to stay conscious. "Bring my nieces in. Let me see them."
"Are you sure?" Artyom asks, concern etched across his features. "The doctors?—"
"Please," I whisper. "I need to see them. I need to know that they're alright."
Artyom squeezes my hand once before leaving the room. The minutes stretch like hours as I drift in and out of consciousness, clinging to the thought of my nieces, of Aurora.
Finally, the door opens. Three small figures enter, flanked by Artyom and two guards.
My heart aches at the sight of them.
Stella's face is streaked with tears, her small shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Sofia stands beside her, trying to look brave but her trembling bottom lip betrays her.
And Mikayla...
My oldest niece looks like she's aged years in a single day, her serious eyes hollow with a haunted look of a child forced to grow old in the face of endless deaths.
"Uncle Ruslan," Mikayla whispers, her voice breaking.
I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. "Hey, princesses. Don't look so worried. I'm okay."
Stella breaks first, rushing to my bedside with a strangled cry and seeking out the comfort of my hand. Sofia follows close behind. I pull them close despite the pain that shoots through my chest, and feel my heart rending as the sensation of their tears falling onto my skin.
"Shhh, it's alright. I'm okay," I murmur. "I'm right here."
Hannah rises from her chair, exhaustion evident in every movement. "I'll give you some time with your nieces."
Her eyes search mine, and I see the same fear that's eating me alive reflected back in them.
"Hannah," I call after her as she turns to leave. The medication makes my voice sound distant even to my own ears. "When they let me out of here, I'm going to find Aurora. No matter what it takes."
She pauses at the doorway, nodding once. No empty reassurances, no meaningless platitudes. Just that simple acknowledgment of a truth we both understand.
Then she's gone, Artyom following silently behind her.
The door clicks shut, leaving me alone with my nieces and their two guards.
My family, I realize.
What's left of it.
"Uncle Ruslan," Mikayla's voice is barely above a whisper. "What happened to Aurora?"
The question cuts through the haze of medication, bringing a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. How do I explain to a fifteen-year-old that I failed to protect someone I promised to keep safe?
"I wronged her," I manage, the words thick on my tongue as the drugs pull me deeper into their embrace. "I didn't trust her when I should have. And now she's in danger."
Mikayla's eyes fill with tears. "It's my fault," she whispers, her shoulders hunching forward. "I helped Mama break into the security system without even knowing it."
"No." I shake my head, my movements clumsy but determined. "You don't need to apologize for your mother's sins, Mika."
Her hand joins her sisters in mine and I can't help notice how they're all trembling.
"What will you do?" she asks, her eyes searching mine.
The question is loaded with implications. About Aurora. About her mother. About all of us caught in this web of betrayal and blood.
"I don't know," I confess.
I should lie. I should tell her everything will be fine, that I have a plan, that the monster can't hurt them as long as I'm around. But the words won't come. I've never lied to my nieces, and I won't start now, even if the truth offers no comfort.
Mikayla's eyes drop to our linked hands. "I'm scared, Uncle Ruslan."
"It's okay to be scared, dorogaya ," I whisper, giving my nieces' hands a gentle squeeze. "That's the only time you can be brave."
Slowly, the drugs pull me deeper into darkness with each passing second.
"Be good to each other," I manage to whisper as my eyelids grow too heavy to keep open. "I'll see you when I wake up."
The words slur together, floating away from me like smoke. I hear Sofia's muffled sob, feel Stella's small fingers squeeze mine one last time, sense Mikayla's solemn presence beside the bed.
Then nothing.
Darkness swallows me whole, but it's not empty.
Aurora appears, her image crystal clear against the void. She's not how I feared I'd see her. Cowering, broken, and begging for my help as that monster drags her away.
No.
My zarechka stands tall, her chin lifted in defiance. Her hazel eyes burn with a fire I've seen flickering beneath her gentle surface from the moment we met. The look of a woman who crossed an entire country to escape a monster once before.
The look of a survivor.
Even in this drug-induced vision, she's breathtaking. Strong. Fierce.
In my vision, she speaks without words, her eyes telling me what I need to hear.
That she won't give up. That she'll find a way. That the girl who rebuilt her entire life from nothing isn't about to surrender now.
I reach for her, but my limbs are leaden weights. She's slipping away from me, but her determined look never falters.
Aurora will fight. She will survive. Just as she did before.
My Aurora isn't just some damsel waiting for rescue. She'll find her way, or make one.
As consciousness slips completely from my grasp, I cling to this image of her. Not broken. Not defeated.
A fighter.
My fighter.