Chapter Thirty
Dmitri
The first thing I felt was pain, dull and distant at first, then sharpening steadily as my body remembered exactly what it had survived, radiating from my shoulder and side in a way that told me the worst of the immediate danger had already passed, that the ache was from healing rather than active crisis.
Then I felt the warmth. A hand wrapped loosely around mine. It was small and very familiar. I could feel the fingers curled against my palm with the unconscious trust of someone who’d fallen asleep holding on rather than deciding to let go.
Somewhere beneath the pain and the warmth, fragments of memory surfaced slowly, disconnected and out of order. Vale’s flat voice. The impact of a bullet finding its mark. Roman’s voice, sharp and urgent, repeating my name.
Val.
When my eyes finally opened, the world stayed blurred for a long moment, shapes and light bleeding into each other before slowly becoming clearer.
The room around me was quiet and sterile in a way that told me exactly where I was without needing further confirmation.
Machines hummed steadily somewhere nearby, monitors tracking whatever vitals the medical staff had spent the last however-many hours watching closely.
And Val sat beside me.
She was asleep in a chair pulled close against the bed, her head tilted at an angle that would leave her neck aching once she woke, her hand still loosely holding mine despite exhaustion having clearly claimed her at some point during whatever vigil she’d kept.
The way her hair was loose and disheveled told me she’d been here considerably longer than a few comfortable hours.
But she was alive. Present. And here with me.
For a long moment, I simply watched her, something settling in my chest that had nothing to do with the pain still radiating through my body.
I’d promised her I would come back. Looking at her now, exhausted beside my hospital bed, I understood that the promise had somehow held despite everything Vale had thrown against it.
I shifted slightly, testing the limits of my own body, and the small movement was enough to wake her instantly. Her eyes flew open with the sharpness of someone who’d been listening for exactly this signal even in sleep.
“Dmitri.”
My name came out of her mouth in a rush of breath, disbelief and relief tangled together so completely that for a moment she simply stared at me, like she needed several seconds to confirm what her own eyes were telling her.
“I’m here,” I managed, my voice rougher than I expected, throat dry from whatever tube had been keeping me breathing through the worst of it.
“You’re awake. You’re actually awake.” She reached for a cup of water on the small table beside the bed, her hands steady despite the visible exhaustion carved into every line of her face, helping me drink without hesitation.
I drank slowly, the water cool and welcome against my raw throat, watching her the entire time, unable to fully look away from the reality of her presence.
We didn’t speak much at first. Words felt unnecessary against the overwhelming weight of simply being present together again, alive and on the other side of whatever violence had nearly ended things permanently. I reached for her hand again once the water cup had been set aside.
She leaned forward slowly, resting her forehead briefly against mine, her breath unsteady against my skin.
The silence between us no longer carried the heavy, fragile weight it often did. This silence felt different; it was soft and safe. The quiet of people who’d already survived the worst version of what they’d feared, rather than still bracing for it.
“I came back,” I said quietly, my voice still rough but steadier with every word.
“I knew you would.” She pulled back just enough to look at my face properly, something fierce and unshakable behind her tired eyes.
“I told everyone that, the whole time. I don’t think I fully believed it every single hour, if I’m being completely honest. But I never stopped telling myself that anyway. ”
“What made you keep believing it, even when you doubted it?”
“Nikolai told me a story about you surviving something similar years ago. Woke up asking about the operation before you even asked about your own condition.” Something warm and slightly exasperated crossed her expression.
“That sounds exactly like something you’d do, which somehow made it easier to believe you’d manage it again. ”
“Did I ask about the operation yet?”
“You’ve been awake for about ninety seconds, Dmitri. Give yourself a moment before returning to business as usual.”
Something almost like a laugh escaped me despite the pain the motion cost my ribs. “Fair enough. Though for the record, the operation succeeded. Vale’s dead. His network collapsed across all five locations.”
“I know. Roman told me, before I even got here.” She studied me a long moment, something more serious settling behind her tired expression. “It’s actually over, isn’t it? Not another delay, not another careful escalation waiting somewhere down the line. Actually finished.”
“Actually finished.” I squeezed her hand gently, the small motion costing more effort than it should have but worth every bit of the discomfort. “Whatever comes next, it won’t be Vale circling us anymore. That particular threat is permanently resolved.”
She exhaled slowly, something releasing in her posture that told me exactly how much weight she’d been carrying since the moment Roman had first appeared in our doorway with the news.
“You scared me,” she said quietly. “More than anything else since this all started. None of it scared me the way watching you lie here unconscious for hours did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for surviving something you had to walk into. Just—” Her voice caught slightly, some old fear still working its way through her. “Just don’t make me feel that particular fear again anytime soon, if you can help it.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make certain of that.”
“God, I love you. I’m so glad you’re safe,” she let out, kissing the side of my face.
“I’ve missed those kisses more than anything,” I confessed, smiling at her.
“And he’s back to being my teasing, flirtatious husband,” she remarked, half-rolling her eyes.
“Always your husband.”
“And forever.”
“Did I ever tell you I love it when you roll your eyes like that?”
“Okay, enough talking, Dmitri Golovin.”
“I love you, baby.”
Her fingers cradled my face. “We survived.”
“We did.”