36. Cora
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
cora
Conall’s conference room smelled faintly of whiskey and cigar smoke, the scents mingling with the sharp tang of antiseptic. Dr. O’Flannery worked quietly, tending to the stomach wound on Conall, his steady hands belying his gruff demeanor. On the opposite end of the room, Maxim reclined on the leather couch, pale but defiant as Angelo’s sister Francesca, currently in her clinical rotation at a trauma hospital, cleaned the wounds on his shoulder and thigh.
I’d not met her before, but she was not what I expected. She’d arrived in a huff and given Angelo a look that told him he was in big trouble later, but she was efficient and professional.
“You two look like you’ve been through a blender,” Paddy quipped, leaning against the doorframe. Brody stood beside him, his arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face. “But hey, at least your faces are still pretty. Maxim might lose his leg, though. That’s a shame. You’re less intimidating without both feet on the ground.”
Maxim gave Paddy a withering look, though it lacked its usual intensity. “Don’t you have a pub to be annoying in? Or a rainbow to find?”
Brody barked a laugh. “Not until we’re sure you’re not dying, big guy. Gotta make sure our investment in this alliance isn’t a bust. Maybe we’ll take our sister back while you’re laid up.”
I rolled my eyes, though the tension in the room eased just a little. Leave it to my brothers to make a medical emergency feel like a pub crawl. “Can we save the banter until after the stitches are in place? Or better yet, keep it outside?”
Brody’s gaze met mine, and for a moment, the usual bravado in his eyes softened. “You okay, Cora?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though the truth was harder to swallow. The ambush had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. Watching Conall and Maxim bleed, seeing Lev and Kolya’s grim faces as they secured the perimeter, had left a cold knot in my chest that refused to loosen. Kolya had wrapped himself so tightly over me that I knew I wasn’t in any danger, but the sight of bullets hitting people I loved wasn’t going to leave me anytime soon.
The first item on my list was to learn how to contribute. I was not going to be the only person who couldn’t shoot. All I had been able to do was text my brother for help.
“Sure?” Brody pressed, his teasing tone gone.
“Positive,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered just enough to betray me. Maxim’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t push further. Thank God.
After what felt like an eternity, Francesca finished with Maxim’s wounds and stepped back, wiping her hands on a towel. “He’ll live,” she said, her tone light but professional. “But you’re not moving that shoulder much, and you’re certainly not walking on that leg for at least a week.”
Maxim swung his legs over the side of the couch, but when he tried to stand, he winced and leaned heavily on Kolya.
“You’re not walking on that,” I said, stepping forward.
He arched a brow at me. “It’s not up for discussion.”
“Neither is you falling on your face,” I shot back.
Lev, ever the diplomat, moved between us. “Let’s get him to the car before he decides to prove his point.”
“We’ve got the car in the bay where it’s protected. That’s standard protocol from now on,” Paddy said.
“Smart. Cora, say goodbye to your brother. We’ll leave together,” Kolya ordered, and I went to give my brother a kiss.
He was sleeping heavily, his face screwed up in pain, but I hoped that I could come and check on him tomorrow. Dr. O’Flannery was sitting in a chair next to his bed.
“He’ll be fine. He’s strong. I just gave him something to rest, lass,” he said kindly.
The ride back to the townhouse was quiet, except for Kolya’s occasional humor attempts and Lev’s exasperated groans. “You’re both useless,” Maxim muttered when Kolya started humming an off-key version of an old ballad.
Once home, Lev and Kolya helped Maxim to the couch, where he collapsed with a heavy sigh. I disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a couple of Ibuprofen.
“Take these,” I said, holding them out.
He took the pills without protest, which only made me more worried. Maxim never admitted to pain, let alone took anything for it. As he settled back, I moved Clyde from his usual spot on the couch. The kitten’s soulful eyes followed me before he jumped into my lap as soon as I sat down.
“Hi, monster,” I muttered, scratching behind his ears. Clyde wiggled against me, oblivious to the chaos of the day.
“He has good taste,” Maxim said, his voice low. He reached over, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact shivered down my spine, though I tried to play it cool. “Come here.”
I hesitated for a moment before sliding over, careful not to jostle his injured leg or shoulder. He lifted his arm, allowing me to tuck against his side.
“You need rest,” I said softly, leaning into him. The warmth of his body chased away some of the lingering chill.
“So do you,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, zayka. I’m sure that was scary. You did well.”
Clyde settled on my chest as Maxim grabbed the remote, flipping through channels until he landed on a movie.
“A romantic comedy?” I teased, glancing up at him.
“Only you would think that,” he replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as Warm Bodies started to play.
For the first time that day, I let myself relax, the steady rise and fall of Maxim’s chest grounding me. Whatever chaos awaited tomorrow, tonight we had this—a quiet moment in the eye of the storm.