Chapter 46 | Anna
Sleeping on the sofa was like sleeping on a bed of rocks.
Did I wake up rested? No.
Did I wake up not in pain? Also, no.
When Ludwig forced me to the sofa, there was already a pillow and blanket ready for me. He’d changed the bandage on my arm without having to ask. He’d also told me to stay there until I slept for at least six hours. I smarted off and told him I’d do it in two.
I woke up twelve hours later. My body had forced the issue.
My days and nights were all mixed up. When my eyes blinked open, I stared at the ceiling.
One light was on—the kitchen, I think. Bleeding into the shadows of the rest of the place. I heard no movement. The silence felt fragile. Like it could shatter at any time. And for a moment, I thought I was alone.
But then the faint shuffle of… cards? At the dining table. And briefly I wondered if someone had washed off all the blood.
Morbid.
As I lay there, I thought about everything. I hadn’t cried. Hadn’t fallen apart. Not when he was shot. Not when the blood wouldn’t stop. Not even when the doctor said for now like a warning flag. I’d... kept moving. Kept functioning. Kept breathing.
I wondered when that bill was going to come due.
Because right now, I couldn’t afford to crack. I had other things to worry about.
Neither Ulrich nor Ludwig had said, but I knew we weren’t safe here. The epic failure at the facility was like waving a red flag in front of the Knights and the Brotherhood and daring them to find us. Because Decker had been there.
I was only now processing that.
I lifted my hand, felt the slight weight of the necklace still resting on my chest and wondered if I had bruised fingerprints on my neck.
I hadn’t looked. It hadn’t occurred to me.
He’d choked me so hard, and my vision started to gray, I thought for sure I was dead.
That I would suffocate right there in that server room.
Touch her again and I kill you.
He’d sounded so… savage. There was only one other time he sounded like that—when we discovered the photos on Vormund’s laptop. It was terrifying and vindicating at the same time.
I sat up, swung my legs over the edge of the cushion and paused. In front of me, the coffee table with various weapons scattered across the top. I read that as preparedness. Not caution.
And it hit me then.
My hands started to shake. My chest tightened. I had the distinct feeling the first fissure had formed.
I got to my feet. I stood there a long moment, taking a deep breath. Trying to quell the rising panic.
I glanced at the kitchen table where we sat to plan. Where the surgeon stitched him together. Where Ulrich and Ludwig sat now, cards spread between them. Where they both looked at me. Ulrich with concern. Ludwig with curiosity.
“You okay?” Ludwig asked.
I made my way to the table, sat hard in the chair between them, my hands still shaking.
“Fine,” I said.
But Ludwig didn’t buy it. And then I saw it. His gaze flicking to my throat. That told me everything. Visible bruises. Proof of how close Decker had come. Pain caught when I tried to swallow. It would hurt for days.
And I realized I needed a shower, clean clothes, a toothbrush to help me feel human again. But I was too tired to move.
My gaze drifted down the hallway to the closed bedroom door.
“He’s fine. He’s sleeping,” Ludwig said.
“Took the pain meds like a good patient for once,” Ulrich said.
“Miracle,” Ludwig added.
I nodded, sitting there feeling a bit displaced. Like I’d missed something crucial while I was unconscious. Thinking I should have been the one giving him pain pills, but I’d been down for the count.
Ulrich dropped his hand of cards and went to the kitchen. He returned with a couple of soft pretzels and a cheese spread sitting on a plate in one hand and a German beer in the other. He extended both to me. I stared at it, then up at him.
“It’s called food,” Ludwig said.
I reached for it, my hands still shaking and muttered thanks. Realized I was hungry for the first time in… how long?
“I find soft pretzels and beer best during a crisis,” Ulrich said.
“Don’t listen to him, Anna, he has it all wrong.” Ludwig stood and disappeared into the tiny kitchen, then returned with a package of Prinzenrolle. “These,” he said, tapping the sleeve, “are only good in a crisis.”
And here I thought whiskey was good in a crisis. But that ritual was private and sacred for the two of us and I wouldn’t be having any again until we could share it together.
“So,” I said, “you two ply me with beer and junk food to make it all better?”
“Trust us. It’s sound medical advice,” Ludwig said, nodding like this settled the matter.
And both of them forgot about their cards. They were scattered on the table.
I tore a piece of the pretzel and dipped it into the cheese.
“You didn’t fall apart, you know,” Ludwig said. “You didn’t even flinch when I took out the bullet.”
I shrugged like it was nothing.
“What he’s trying to say, unsuccessfully, is that he’s impressed,” Ulrich said, in his calm, soothing voice.
I was starting to like these two far too much. Dangerous, that. Getting attached. But it was too late to worry about that.
“I’ve had a lot of experience not falling apart,” I said around a mouthful.
“Being with that guy,” Ludwig thumbed over his shoulder toward the bedroom, “I get it.”
I laughed.
Ludwig got up again, stepped into the kitchen, returned with two more beers. He handed one to Ulrich.
“Here’s to surviving,” he said in a mock toast. And then drank.
We all did.
When I polished off the pretzels, Ludwig handed me the sleeve of Prinzenrolle, the chocolate already melting in the wrapper. I took it.
“Next step is a shower,” he said. “But one crisis at a time, eh?”
Ulrich lifted his beer. “He’s right. We’re terrible at multitasking during trauma.”
It might have been the beer or the fact I’d eaten a whole sleeve of delicious chocolate cookies, but I heard myself say, “I know we have to move soon.”
They both froze, exchanged a glance. Both of them turned serious. I’d killed all our fun.
Ludwig said, “Soon, yes.”
“When?” I asked, my gaze meeting his. Remembering what the doctor said—that he couldn’t move yet. That it was too dangerous. “And the stairs. How?”
Because a healing gut shot and four flights of stairs didn’t mix. The image made my stomach clench.
“Not confirmed yet,” Ludwig said, using his tactical voice on me.
“Is it safe?” I asked, looking between the two of them. “For him, I mean.”
“It’ll be a challenge,” Ulrich said.
“And am I to assume the two of you will be joining us wherever that is?”
“Yes,” Ludwig said without hesitation. “Both of us.”
I nodded even as my gut clenched. It was hard to ignore the worry gnawing at me. Moving him could kill him. Staying could get us all killed.
“We can’t stay much longer,” Ludwig said. “It’s been over twenty-four hours. If they haven’t found us yet, it will be soon.”
Ulrich reached for my hand resting on top of the table. He gave my fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Do you trust us?”
I looked from him to Ludwig. “Does he?”
Because that mattered more than my own judgment right now.
“Yes,” Ludwig said. “We already talked about it.”
That didn’t surprise me. Likely while I was out. I nodded.
“Then, yes. I trust you.”
Because I needed them. And admitting that didn’t feel like weakness anymore. I couldn’t do this alone. It was the only way we were going to be safe.
I pushed up from the table. “Thanks for the food.”
I decided a shower was in order.
But Ludwig’s voice stopped me.
“Hey, Anna?”
I turned to face him.
“For what it’s worth, we trust you, too.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
As I walked away, my back to the two of them, that fissure cracked.