Chapter 32
Maksim
Iwake to the sensation of someone holding my hand.
For a moment, I don't remember where I am. The ceiling is too white, too clean. The beeping of monitors filters through the fog in my brain.
Then it all comes rushing back. The warehouse. The explosions. Roman's bullet tearing through my leg. The jump from the second floor with Kira's father.
I turn my head—carefully, because everything aches—and see her.
Kira is asleep in a chair beside my bed, her hand wrapped around mine.
Her head is tilted at an awkward angle that's going to give her a terrible neck ache. Even exhausted and disheveled, she's beautiful. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s dark outside. She’s changed clothes and clearly showered.
The last time I saw her, she was covered in cement dust.
I squeeze her hand gently.
Her eyes fly open immediately, that ice-blue gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
"You're awake," she breathes.
"Apparently." My voice comes out rough, like I've been gargling gravel. "How long was I out?"
She rubs her eyes and then looks at the clock. “All day.” She sits up straighter, wincing as her neck protests. "You scared the hell out of me, Maksim."
"Sorry."
"Sorry?" Her voice rises. "You passed out from blood loss because you were too stubborn to get treated! You could have died!"
"But I didn't."
"That's not the point!" She's on her feet now. I see the fear beneath her anger. "You can't keep doing this. You can't keep throwing yourself into danger and expecting everything to be fine!"
"Kira—"
"I'm serious, Maksim. You're going to be a father. To twins. They need you alive." Her voice breaks. "I need you alive. So, if you ever pull that crap again, I swear to God I will kill you myself."
I can't help it—I smile. "There's the Ice Queen I fell in love with."
"Don't." She swipes at her eyes, frustrated by the tears. "Don't make jokes. This isn't funny."
"I know." I tug on her hand, pulling her closer. "Come here."
She hesitates, then sits on the edge of the bed. I shift over, ignoring the protests from my battered body, making room for her.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "You're right. I should have gotten treated sooner. But I needed to make sure you and the babies were okay first."
"The babies are fine. You heard the doctor."
"I know. Now." I bring her hand to my lips. "But I had to be sure. Had to see them on that screen."
Her expression softens slightly. "Two heartbeats."
"Two." The wonder of it still hasn't worn off. "We're having twins, Kira."
"I'm aware." She touches my face, her fingers gentle. "Which is why you need to take better care of yourself. They need their father."
"I will. I promise." I mean it this time. "No more heroics."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
Fair point.
“So, what’s the damage?” I ask.
"The list is extensive," Kira says, her expression somewhere between exasperated and relieved. "The bullet wound in your thigh—which they didn’t have to do surgery, but you’re lucky.
Because you kept walking on it like an idiot you almost did real damage.
Three broken ribs, though the doctor says at least one of those was already healing from before. "
"From the last time I got shot," I mutter.
"Yes. From the last time." She gives me a look that could freeze fire.
"You also have a mild concussion from hitting your head when you passed out. Or when a building collapsed on you. Hard to say. Smoke inhalation that they want to monitor. Multiple contusions and lacerations. The gunshot to your shoulder healed nicely but you tore the one on your side. They stitched it up again. No infections but you are getting antibiotics.”
I process this information. It could be worse. I've definitely had worse.
"So when can I leave?"
"You're not leaving." Her voice is flat, brooking no argument. "The doctor says minimum one day, possibly two. You need rest. Real rest. Not 'Maksim pretends to rest while planning his next suicide mission' rest."
"Kira—"
"No." She crosses her arms. "I'm not negotiating this. You're staying in this bed until a medical professional clears you to leave. And if you try to sneak out, I will have Semyon post guards at your door."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
I study her face and realize she absolutely would. The Ice Queen doesn't make idle threats.
"Fine," I concede. "One day. Maybe two. But then we need to move. Roman is still out there."
"Semyon is handling it."
"Semyon can't—"
"Semyon is perfectly capable of coordinating people without you micromanaging from a hospital bed." She leans forward, her eyes intense. "You need to trust him. Trust that the world won't fall apart if you rest for forty-eight hours."
The hardest thing for me isn't the pain or the injuries. It's the inactivity. The feeling of being useless while threats still circle.
But she's right. My body needs time to heal. And pushing myself now will only make me a liability later.
"Okay," I say quietly. "Two days. I'll stay."
"Thank you." The relief in her voice is palpable. "Now, the doctor wants you on bed rest. That means no getting up except to use the bathroom."
"What am I supposed to do for two days?"
"Rest. Sleep. Heal." She touches my face again, her thumb brushing my cheekbone.
"Where's Anya?" I ask.
Kira's expression shifts, becoming more guarded. "ICU. With our father."
My stomach drops. "He's still alive?"
"Barely. He's hanging on, but..." She trails off, and I hear everything she's not saying. "The doctors aren't optimistic. The head injury is severe. Even if he survives, there might be permanent damage."
Guilt crashes over me. I got him out of that building, but maybe I should have done more. Moved faster. Protected him better.
"Maksim." Kira's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "This isn't your fault."
"I should have—"
"You did everything." Her grip on my hand tightens. "You got him out. You jumped from the second floor and somehow survived. You did everything humanly possible."
She leans closer, her forehead resting against mine. "My father made his choices. He set this whole nightmare in motion when he betrayed you. What happens to him now is consequence, not your responsibility."
I want to argue. Want to take on the guilt of failing to save him completely.
But she's right. I did everything I could.
The door opens, and Semyon walks in. He looks better than the last time I saw him—cleaned up, the cut above his eye neatly stitched. His arm in a sling.
"You're awake," he observes. "Good. We need to talk."
"What happened?" I try to sit up more, but Kira pushes me back down.
"Stay," she orders. "You're not going anywhere. I will absolutely shoot you with a tranquilizer dart myself if you even think about getting out of that bed."
Semyon pulls up another chair. He looks from me to Kira then back at me. "Roman is dead."
The words hang in the air. I stare at him; not sure I heard correctly.
"What?"
"Roman is dead," he repeats. "I saw the body myself. Pulled from the rubble about three hours ago. Crushed when the third floor collapsed."
Relief floods through me so intensely I feel dizzy. "You're sure?"
"Positive. I made them show me the body twice. Checked for a pulse myself." His smile is grim. "He's dead, Maksim. Really dead. That piece of shit is never coming back."
I can't process it. After everything he put us through, Roman is just... gone.
"His network is collapsing," Semyon continues. "Without him, there's no leadership. His lieutenants are already turning on each other, fighting for scraps. By tomorrow, the Barinov bratva will be in complete chaos."
"Good," Kira says fiercely. "Let it burn."
"It's not that simple," Semyon says, looking at me. "Nature abhors a vacuum. Someone will step in to fill the void. The question is who."
I know what he's asking. What everyone will be asking.
Will I take my father's place? Claim what's mine by blood and right?
"The families are already asking," Semyon says quietly. "Leo's death is being mourned. The torture victims Roman left behind are being found. People are angry, Maksim. They want justice. They want leadership."
"They want revenge," I correct.
"That too." He doesn't deny it. "But mostly they want someone to rebuild. To restore order. Your father was loved. You're his son. His legitimate heir."
"I don't want it," I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I'm not sure they're true.
Part of me does want it. Wants to finish what my father started. I want to build something better than what Roman created.
But another part wants to walk away. I just want to disappear and be normal.
"You don't have to decide right now," Semyon says. "Take time. Heal. But know that the offer is there. The families will follow you if you ask."
"And if I don't ask?"
"Then someone else will step in. Someone who might be worse than Roman." His expression is serious. "I'm not trying to pressure you. Just giving you the facts."
I look at Kira. "What do you think?"
"I think it's your choice," she says carefully. "I'll support whatever you decide."
"That's not an answer."
"Because I don't have one." She touches my face. "Part of me wants you to walk away. To take me and Anya and disappear somewhere safe. Somewhere our children can grow up without this violence."
"And the other part?"
"Knows that won't work. The bratva doesn't let people walk away. The only way to truly be safe is to control the danger." Her eyes meet mine. "If you take power, you can change things. Make them better. Be the leader your father wanted to be."
"That's a lot of responsibility."
"You can handle it." Her smile is sad. "You survived six years of hell. You can survive this too."
Can I? I'm not sure.
But looking at her, I know I have to try.
"I'll think about it," I tell Semyon. "Give me a few days."
"Take the time you need." He stands. "I'll keep things stable in the meantime. Make sure no one does anything stupid."
"Thank you. For everything."