Chapter 30
Ryder
Liev lies in the bed, unmoving.
For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks still. His chest rises slowly beneath the thin hospital sheet, the movement shallow but steady.
A tube runs from his side, disappearing into a collection chamber beside the bed. Dark fluid gathers there in slow, measured drops, each one a reminder of how close this came to something worse. Something permanent.
The doctor explained it twice.
The bullet penetrated his chest wall and partially collapsed his lung. They placed a chest tube to drain the air and blood, allowing the lung to re-inflate over the next few days. If everything goes as planned, he’ll stay here under observation until they’re sure it’s stable.
Then weeks of recovery. Four to six, minimum.
No strain or movement that risks a setback in the healing process.
I stand beside the bed, arms folded loosely, my gaze fixed on him as I process it again. The words make sense. The procedure makes sense.
The reality of it makes less sense. How will this man run a brand new empire with a host of enemies waiting in the shadows? But he’s alive, and that’s what matters. Everything else comes after.
Viktor stands near the door, speaking quietly into his phone, most likely updating Kazimir on what happened. He’s likely giving an update on Liev and that he is alive.
My fingers flex slightly at my sides, the phantom feeling of his blood still lingering even though I scrubbed my hands twice in the bathroom down the hall. It’s gone physically, washed away hours ago.
I step closer to the bed; my attention drawn back to the slow rise and fall of his chest. It’s uneven, but it’s there, supported by everything around him.
The monitors hum quietly, numbers shifting in small, controlled increments that I don’t fully understand but choose to trust. The blinds are drawn, but dawn is making them glow just faintly.
Another beautiful Miami sunrise, and my husband is unconscious in a hospital bed.
“He’ll be out for a while.”
I glance up at the doctor standing on the other side of the bed. He’s calm and practiced. He’s done this enough times that nothing about it rattles him anymore. It’s reassuring, but men like this parallel our lives. They’ve seen death, too, and can look at it with an otherworldly calm by now.
“How long?” I ask.
“A few hours, at least,” he replies. “The sedation helps with the pain and allows his body to adjust. The chest tube isn’t comfortable.”
That’s an understatement.
“And after that?”
“He’ll wake up gradually,” the doctor says. “There will be pain. Breathing will feel difficult at first, even with the lung re-inflating. That’s normal. We’ll monitor him closely.”
“How long until he’s stable?”
The doctor considers that. “If there are no complications, a few days before the lung fully re-inflates. Longer before he’s anywhere close to normal activity.”
“He needs to take it easy,” the doctor adds, his gaze steady on mine. “No pushing himself. No shortcuts. If he does, he risks setting himself back or worse.”
A humorless thought flickers through my mind. Liev doesn’t do “taking it easy,” not really, despite how calm and unbothered he always seems. I’ve heard of other Pakhans who rip out into the world ready to kill; not Liev. He does it quietly, efficiently, in his own way.
“I’ll make sure he takes it slow,” I say.
The doctor studies me for a second, then nods.
“You’ve got a few hours still; you should get some rest.” He doesn’t point out that I’ve been up all night, since his arrival hours ago at the shift change.
A small part of me whispers that stress and exhaustion are bad for the baby, but that feels like too much to think about right now.
He leaves a moment later; the door closing softly behind him, leaving the room quieter than before. Viktor finishes his call shortly after, stepping in, his expression tight.
“Security’s locked down here,” he says. “No one gets near him without clearance. I have two men staged in the waiting room, and one of the security guards on this floor is on our payroll.”
Not sure how that happened, but it’s good.
His gaze flicks to Liev, then back to me. “We’ll find who did this.”
There’s no doubt in his voice, but I can hear his frustration. Things have been escalating for weeks, since before Viktor even arrived in Florida.
I hold his gaze for a second, then nod again, slower this time. “We will.” I don’t tell him about the tattoo or my suspicions yet. But I know the problem is closer to home than any of us thought.
Viktor’s cell buzzes and a professional mask slips over his features. He steps back out into the hallway. Alone, I look down at Liev again, at the steady rise and fall of his chest, at the machine quietly helping him do something that should come naturally but doesn’t right now.
“I was going to tell you tonight,” I murmur, too quietly for anyone but me to hear.
The words hang there, unanswered.
My hand lifts, hesitates for a second, then settles lightly against his, careful of the lines and monitors attached to him.
“You don’t get to check out before I do,” I add under my breath. “Not just because you’re an old man. You have to have a better excuse than that.”
It’s not a joke, not really.
As I watch his chest rise and fall, I try to figure out the next few weeks. I’ll have to force him to lay low and recover, tell him we’re going to have a child, and hunt down our enemies. I realize that whatever this turns into, I’m not running away from it anymore.
The door opens without a knock, and I already know who it is before I turn. My mother moves into the room as if hospitals and blood and near-death experiences are just another setting she can step into and control.
Her gaze lands on Liev first, taking in the machines, the stillness, the obvious severity of it all. There’s no outward reaction or concern, and for a moment I hate her. Why couldn’t I have the kind of mother who would comfort me in this moment?
Then she looks at me.
“Well,” she says lightly, “I suppose this is one way out.”
The words settle in slowly, then all at once, and I see red. “What?”
She shrugs one shoulder, as if it’s obvious. “If he doesn’t make it, you’re free. No complications. No negotiations. A clean break.”
I stare at her, waiting for something—anything—that suggests she doesn’t mean it the way it sounds.
“You think this is convenient?”
“I think it’s an opportunity,” she replies smoothly. “One you didn’t have before.”
My mother doesn’t know me; not really. She knew the child, the teenager who stayed out of the way and observed. She knew the college girl focused on studying and placing top of the class.
She doesn’t know what Papa had me doing or what I’m really capable of. She doesn’t know that if I wanted to, I could kill almost any man I go up against. If she did, she wouldn’t dare say what she just did.
“He’s not dying.”
“That remains to be seen,” she counters.
Something in me snaps. “Stop,” I say, sharper now.
Her brows lift slightly, surprised more by my tone than my words.
Carmela watches me carefully now, something more calculating slipping into her expression. “Ryder,” she says, softer but no less firm, “you didn’t choose this life. You were forced into it. If there’s a way out—”
“I’m not looking for one.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and final, but she doesn’t take the hint.
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I am. More clearly than you think.”
She studies me for a long moment, like she’s trying to find the crack in that statement, the weakness she can push through.
“There’s nothing here for you,” she says finally. “Not long-term. He’ll discard you some day.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay in control. If I’ve learned anything from her, it’s that. “That’s your fear, not mine.”
She looks like I slapped her, and for just a second, I can see who she was once—a young woman, younger even than me when she met my father. Trapped before she realized what kind of monster he was. Praying for a way out.
“Even if this isn’t perfect,” I continue, my gaze flicking briefly to Liev before returning to her, “he treats me like an equal.”
“An equal,” she repeats.
“Yes.”
Her head tilts slightly. “That’s what you think this is?”
“It’s what I know it is,” I say. “He doesn’t control me. He doesn’t diminish me. He doesn’t—” I stop myself before I say too much, before I turn this into something else entirely. “He stands beside me.”
The silence that follows is something breaking between us, because we both know what I’m really saying. What I’m comparing.
Mama’s gaze hardens. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But it’s mine to make.”
That’s the end of it.
Carmela straightens slightly, her composure locking back into place. “I didn’t come here to argue,” she says, her tone cool.
When I don’t answer, she turns and walks out. The door closes behind her with a quiet finality. What if I don’t see her again? A small voice whispers in the back of my head.
But I know the answer: I don’t really care. Not anymore.
Once, it felt like she and my father were all I had. I built my life around them. But now I have something else—even if I lose Liev. And I won’t lose him. That’s what I’m choosing.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the door, the tension draining out of me so quickly it makes my head spin.
I step back.
The room tilts slightly, and I think the door opens, but with the way everything spins, I can’t be sure.
“Ryder.”
Viktor’s voice cuts in, sharp with concern as he lunges into the room, catching my arm just before my knees give out completely.
“I’m fine,” I murmur automatically, even as I grip his sleeve harder than I mean to.
“You’re not,” he says, teeth gritted.
He’s right.
The adrenaline is gone now, replaced by something that drags at my limbs and clouds my thoughts. My stomach churns, a wave of dizziness washing over me that I can’t quite push through.
I close my eyes for a second, breathing slowly, trying to steady myself. It takes longer than it should.
When I open them again, Viktor is still there, watching me closely. “You need to sit,” he says.
“I need to stay,” I counter.
“You can do both.”
I let him guide me to the chair beside the bed, lowering myself into it carefully as the dizziness fades just enough to be manageable. My body feels heavy; every movement takes too much effort. I’m exhausted.
My hand drifts instinctively to my stomach, resting there for a brief second before I force it away again. I’m not just dealing with my own limits anymore. I need to be smarter than this.
Viktor watches me for another moment, then, when he’s satisfied I’m not about to collapse, steps back toward the door. “I’ll be right outside,” he says, half-promise, half-warning. Hopefully, he doesn’t get a doctor.
When everything settles, I turn my attention back to Liev. His fingers are warm when I thread mine through them, and relief settles in my chest.
“I almost lost you tonight,” I whisper.
The words feel too big for the quiet room, but I don’t take them back. My thumb brushes lightly over his knuckles, grounding myself in the contact.
“I have things to tell you,” I continue, my voice low and steady now. “More than I thought I did.”
The baby.
My father.
Everything in between.
“I don’t know what this is supposed to look like,” I admit. “Or how it’s going to work.”
My gaze drifts over his face, taking in the sharp lines softened by sleep, the stillness that feels so different from the man I know.
“But I’m starting to think about it,” I add quietly. “A future. Not just… surviving this. Something more.”
The words surprise me even as I say them.
But they don’t feel wrong.
They feel honest.
Exhaustion starts to settle in, eyelids drooping as my vision darkens. “I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur sleepily.
As long as Liev Demsky still breathes, the assholes trying to take him down can find me right by his side.