37. Alexei #3
The woods. Ivan standing between us. One of us wasn’t walking away. She is staring at Wendell with that same expression now.
I snarl, forcing my legs to move again, pushing against the vines, the cement, everything holding me in place.
Crack.
A fracture splits through the stone. It’s small, but the first real progress I have made.
“You move again,” Wendell warns, lifting a single finger, “and I end him.”
The vines react instantly. One separates and lifts on command, before extending outwards, long, precise, until the tip hovers inches from my chest.
Wendell has forged a spear.
I meet Elena’s gaze. “Do it,” I tell her.
Her eyes fill because she knows. No matter what she chooses… this won’t end cleanly.
“End it,” I shout.
The vine draws back slightly, coiling, preparing.
“You think you’re fast enough?” Wendell laughs. “He’ll be dead before you take a step.”
“And you won’t survive it,” I shoot back.
Elena’s breath shakes, her head moving barely back and forth to signal that she won’t take that step. “You touch him,” she growls, her voice cutting through the space, raw and unsteady, “and it’s the last thing you ever do.”
“At least I’ll die knowing I destroyed yours.”
His finger twitches, the spear sharpening and growing in length at the same time.
That moment, everything slows around us.
And then… I hear the snap.
Behind me.
Wendell’s head turns as well as Elena’s.
I hear the body hitting the ground.
Then… another movement. This one familiar to me.
“Director—”
No.
“Dad—”
My vision snaps to him the moment he steps into view, his pistol already raised, arm steady, eyes locked on Wendell.
Time fractures.
The shot rings out…
But it’s not the only thing that moves.
Wendell’s finger flicks forward at the same time Dad’s bullet pulls right, a flesh wound to Wendell’s upper arm.
“NO!” Elena screams.
I shut my eyes, waiting for the moment of impact, for the burn, for the end that I know is coming. After all, I knew all along that I would be the one to fall. I could only buy time before Inanna would be back to claim me.
Nothing comes.
Instead, I hear a sound. A grunt. One that is all wrong.
My eyes fly open.
Dad stands before me, the vine straight through his chest. The strike is clean and violent. The tip juts from his back, dark with blood.
“Dad!”
Wendell moves, but in that moment, he is the furthest from my mind.
I rip against the hold, everything in me snapping at once.
“Move!” I roar at my own body.
Another crack.
The cement splits wider. Another. And another. The vines slacken, losing control now that Wendell’s focus is broken.
My legs tear free.
Pain explodes upward, but I don’t stop. I lunge forward, catching him as he falls.
His weight hits me hard. Too heavy. Too still.
Blood slips from his mouth, trailing down his chin.
His chest barely rises with each shallow, strained breath.
He’s struggling to take any breath, no matter how small it is.
“Stay with me,” I demand, my voice rough, already moving, hands gripping the vine, snapping it between the thorns, careful…careful to pull it away from his body without ripping it free. If I do, he will only bleed out faster.
“Hold on. I’ve got you.”
“It’s… too late…” he rasps.
“No.” The word comes out sharp. Immediate. “No, it’s not.”
His mouth twitches. A ghost of something that might have been a smile. “Y—you’re… my son…”
My throat tightens. “Yeah,” I declare, gripping his hand harder. “So don’t do this.”
His fingers twitch weakly in mine. Cooling too fast.
“Don’t… waste it…” he breathes. “Our girl… needs you…”
My head snaps up. Elena…she was there, right before Dad fell. Now, she is gone.
The yard shifts back into focus.
No Oksana. No Wendell.
“Go,” Dad whispers.
I look back at him. His eyes begin to slip closed.
“Dad—”
“I’ve… always… been proud…” His voice fades. “I lo?—”
It doesn’t finish. His body stills…completely. The silence crashes in.
My body stills. As does everything else around me.
Everything fades beneath the rush of blood in my ears until all I can hear is the silence where his breathing should be. His chest no longer rises. He doesn’t fight for another breath.
He never will again.
The truth tears through me with a violence that no other weapon ever could.
I lower him carefully, easing him to the ground like that somehow changes anything. As if it matters.
I hear the footsteps approach before they make themselves known.
Clara. Ruslan.
They stop short and take it in.
“Lex—”
“There’ll be time for that later,” I cut in, already moving, already pushing it down before it can surface. Before it can break me. “They’re still out there.” My voice steadies. Sharpens. “Oksana. Wendell.” I pause. “And Elena.”
That’s all it takes.
Their expressions harden. Our purpose replaces the shock to their systems.
A noise has our heads snap toward the sound, doors flying open, footsteps hitting pavement in a sharp, echoing wave as Oksana’s security floods out.
“Go,” Ruslan urges, already moving past me. “I’ll buy you time.”
I catch his eye for half a second, enough, then nod, and take one last look at him and Clara. Then I reach down, pick up Dad’s gun.
And run.