CHAPTER TEN
NATALIA
“Dima. Stay with me. I can’t lose you.” I grip hold of Dima and hold his head in my arms.
My eyes dart back and forth between Dima as he fades, and Pawel’s lifeless body. Blood is soaking through both of their shirts. My stomach twists, my chest heaves, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence, slightly interrupted by my own breaths.
Dima wheezes and the sound of blood gurgling as he tries to breathe leaves me numb and I freeze. His eyes open but then roll back, his hand grips mine for seconds but his fingers soon slip and he lets go.
I try to stop the bleeding by pressing his shirt to the wound, and I cradle his head in the crease of my arm, but there’s no way to stop his blood spilling through the material and soaking my hand.
I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not here. Not when I’ve only just got him back.
My heart shatters and I can’t hold back. Breathless sobs burn my lungs and break through the stillness.
“I’m ... sorr ... sorr ... sorry.” I fight to get the words out, but it’s useless.
My tears burn my cheeks and my mind crashes like waves trying to break free over sharp rocks. Flashes of Pawel being shot by my bitch of a mother play out repeatedly in my mind causing my chest to tighten.
I can’t breathe ... I can’t breathe ... I can’t breathe.
The blood. The death. Dima. Pawel. My mother.
I swallow hard; a deep sob follows. The weight of it all crushes my chest. It’s an emotional pain I’ve never felt before. I’m so used to physical pain that this ... this ... hurts.
I need to focus.
This is my fault. I’m to blame for everything.
Heavy, confident footsteps thud against metal. I turn my head and look out toward the hallway not knowing who it is. All I see is black combat boots.
I feel sick.
Are they back to finish us off?
My heart hammers in my chest, expecting more danger, but it’s his savior. It’s Dima’s grandpa. He marches into the room and his presence commands even without a word. His soft eyes take in the chaos, the blood, my shaking form, but he doesn’t flinch.
He’s calm.
“Grab him,” he says, voice low, steady. “We don’t have time. We need to leave now.”
“Pawel ....” I turn my head in Pawel’s direction.
“I know,” Dima’s grandpa replies and shakes his head.
“How did you know where we were?” I ask even though it’s not important.
“Dima informed me. Now come on we need to hurry.”
“Pawel, he ....” I can’t find the words, so I don’t.
Dima’s grandpa places his hand on my shoulder. “It’s too late for Pawel, but it’s not too late for Dima and for you. Now listen to me, okay. Try to focus on slowing your breathing down, sweetheart. Dima needs you.”
I nod, biting back the sob rising in my throat. Dima groans, sweat and blood combine on his skin, and the knife wound in his side continues to bleed, his face is pale and his body shivers hard.
I tremble as I listen to Dima’s grandpa.
“Dima,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Stay with me. Please. You can’t leave me. I refuse to let you leave me again. I waited seven years for you to come back into my life. You don’t get to leave me, not like this. Do you hear me, Dima?”
He opens his eyes, dark as the night, etched with pain, but he sees me. “Nat... I’m... I’m fine...” His voice is hoarse and weak, but even in his slow breaths and against fear, his refusal to give up is as present as ever.
Dima never gives up. It’s one reason I love him ... one of the reasons I’ve always loved him. No matter what, he never gave up. Never gave up when The Man hurt us, never gave up when Nikolai tried to take me away from him. And he won’t give up even now as death tries to snatch him from me.
“You’ve got this my King,” I whisper when all I want to do is yell.
I hold his head in my hand and grip his hand tightly with the other.
“You’re going to live. I swear it. You hear me?
You’re going to live, and we’re going to get you out of here.
We’re going to get married, have babies.
We’ll have a son, and he’ll be just as brave, and just as handsome as his father. ”
“A daughter, too?” He asks, his breathing shallow.
“Yes, of course, a beautiful daughter too.” I reassure him and try my best to mask my pain with a broken smile. My foot bounces, and I bite my lip hoping and praying he doesn’t sense my very real fear of him dying in this place.
Grandpa kneels beside us, his hands move quickly, precisely, tearing a bigger hole into Dima’s shirt and assessing the wound.
“I’ve got him,” he says firmly and stuffs the torn material into the stab wound.
I lift my arms underneath Dima, trying to support him as Grandpa takes most of his weight, but I struggle with his six-foot-two frame.
“I need help in here.” He calls out into the hallway, and I wonder who he’s calling to.
“Almost there, Lev.” The voice of a man I don’t recognize calls back.
A gun shot rings out and I fear this isn’t over.
My hands are sweaty and soaked in Dima’s blood that’s turned sticky.
Moments pass and a man enters. My eyes widen unsure if if he’s part of the bratva or if he’s with Dima’s grandpa.
“Over here.” Dima’s grandpa directs him and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “My grandson is injured. I need you to help lift him. We need to get out of here.”
“I’ve cleared all the rooms I could find, so we should be good,” the man replies.
“Come on we need to hurry.” Dima’s grandpa says and the two of them lift Dima to his feet.
His legs are bent and his feet drag across the floor as they work together leaning his weight on them.
“Stay close, Natalia.” Dima’s grandpa turns his head and nods to his side.
“Dima, look at me. We’re going home.” My voice wobbles as I walk beside the three of them.
The sound of engines roaring and tires screeching outside makes me anxious.
“It’s okay, we’ve got this.” The man assures me.
“More of them ... more of them will come,” I say and vomit rises in my throat. I squeeze my lips together to stop myself from throwing up.
“That’s the sound of the cowards leaving,” he replies.
I take a breath and make sure my eyes observe my surroundings, I know bratva men are sneaky assholes.
Every step we take is agony. Blood is already drying underneath my fingernails. My legs are shaky and tired, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop until we make it out ... until Dima is safe.
Dima’s grandpa glances back, knowing he’s leaving one grandson behind while saving another. His eyes take in the bodies, the chaos, the lives lost, and then his eyes harden. “We’ll take him home to the farmhouse. He’ll live, but we need to move fast.”
I nod.
“We’ve got you,” I whisper. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it, Dima. You’re staying with me. You hear me?”
He groans softly, trying to focus on me, but his pain is raw and his body is trembling. I whisper it over and over as we move: “You’re going to live. You’re going to make it. You’re mine, Dmitry. Always mine.”
We’re soon at the metal staircase that leads down to the exit and Dima’s legs completely fold. I throw my arms around his waist to help his grandpa and the man keep him upright. I find a strength I didn’t know I had inside of me and the three of us maneuver Dima all the way to the bottom step.
The man keeps one hand firmly on his pistol, and I remember Dima’s grandpa’s gun.
“I need to get something,” I say and turn back around.
I run back up the stairs and into the room littered with death. I grab hold of the Tokarev from the ground and take in the sight of Pawel’s sacrifice.
I can’t hold it any longer and throw up.
“Natalia!” Dima’s grandpa’s voice echoes up to me.
I wipe my mouth and collect myself before carefully making my way back to them. They’re waiting at the bottom of the staircase for me.
“He left this behind.” I lift the Tokarev.
Dima turns his head and gives me a soft smile, his completely pale arms drape around his grandpa and the man.
We move fast. And we disappear into the night, leaving the warehouse behind but also leaving Pawel behind.
The copper smell of blood, the sight of it all over my clothes, the pain, the loss all drive me and I vow silently—I will make this right. I will make sure Dima lives. I’ll make sure Nikolai and his father pay for this—no matter the cost.
I climb into the back of Grandpa’s truck. Grandpa and his friend lift Dima and lie him down across the seats. He’s heavy in my lap, his skin pale, his breaths shallow and ragged.
“Put pressure on the wound,” Grandpa says.
I listen and use the blankets in the backseats to apply extra pressure to Dima’s wound and I’m praying to a God I’m not sure I’ve ever believed in. God’s never done anything for me in this life, but I pray that this time he will—I pray that this time he’ll keep Dima alive.
“Stay with me. I’m so sorry, Dima.” I sob.
His eyes flick open, glassy, and unfocused. “Natalia ....” His voice cracks. “I thought I saw heaven, but I couldn’t find you. Then I realized when I die, I’ll go to Hell and I’ll never see you again.”
My heart shatters.
How could he believe he belonged to Hell? How could he still be afraid of losing me, when I was the one to blame for all of this?
If I wasn’t so foolish then maybe Pawel would still be alive, maybe Dima would never have been hurt. Maybe if I’d have just taken off in the woods with Nikolai’s twin, Vlad, and suffered my fate then none of this would’ve happened.
But maybe doesn’t change a damn thing.
I don’t know if I ever loved my mother, but I wish she’d stayed dead, it was far less painful than witnessing my sweet Dima suffering and knowing he’s lost his brother because of my blood.
I lean over him, pressing my forehead to his, my tears streaking down his bloodied skin.
“You’ll always see me. I’m not going anywhere; you’re stuck with me.” I run my fingers through his hair, and it slicks back with his sweat.
And in this moment, the truth cuts through me like a blade.