Chapter 27
LIA
At least a few hours have passed since they brought me here.
I’m tied to what must be a server bank, towers of black rectangles making quiet humming noises. The handcuffs are tight around my wrists. I wriggle in an attempt not to pee myself. A guard stands at the door, holding a semi- automatic rifle. He stares straight ahead even when I try to talk to him.
My side is aching, and my head feels light. I need to pee, but I know better than to ask. He’s not going to let me go.
I’m annoyed at myself. But I trusted Maksim, and he trusted his brother implicitly.
Now, I’m not going to be around to take care of Mom, to help her move on.
I’m not going to be there to see what happens with me and Maksim, where we go, what we become.
There’s so much I’m not going to be able to do.
Don’t think like that. It’s not helpful.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and a short, wide man in a crisp suit walks in. He’s got an American flag pinned to his lapel.
“Mr. Vale?” I say, as he approaches.
He smiles thinly. “And you’re the miracle worker who gave Maksim Volkov a heart.” He chuckles, shaking his head like he can’t believe it, as he takes a phone from his inside pocket. He presses call and puts it on speaker. “Maksim, I’ve got your girl here.”
“Prove it,” Maksim snarls. He sounds wild, ready, unhinged. I’m hearing the Bratva king, not the Maksim I know.
Conrad Vale presses a button on the phone, presumably muting the microphone based on what he says next. “Say anything about this location, you die. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to get my hands on that doe-eyed mommy of yours too. Got it?”
I swallow, nodding. “I understand.”
He presses the button again, holding the phone out to me.
“Maksim?”
He breathes an audible sigh of relief.
“Lia,” he says. “Have they hurt you?”
“No,” I reply. “The crash did. I… I pushed us off the road. Is Nikolai okay?”
He makes another noise, confusion and heartache coming through. “He survived. I can’t believe you’d ask about him now.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“It is, but let’s not worry about that now. I’m going to get you out of there.”
“What about my mother?” I ask.
“Safe,” he assures me. “But very, very worried.”
“Enough?” Conrad grunts. “Do you have sufficient proof?”
“I love you, Lia,” Maksim says fiercely. “I know it shouldn’t make sense. I know you can’t say it back. I know Conrad’s got that shit-eating sneer on his face, but I love you.”
“Tick, tock,” Conrad says, then hangs up the phone. He aims a mocking pout at me. “How cute.”
He turns and strides toward the exit.
More hours pass, and I’m dangerously close to peeing myself. I focus on Maksim’s words, his beautiful words. He said I love you as though it makes any sense. As though, through those stolen minutes watching me and the short time we’ve spent together, we grew something impossible.
He understood I couldn’t say it back. He knew it was too fast for me. He knew I’m wired differently to him, more cautious, worried about leaping in with both feet when this could all end in ruin.
But deep down, I feel a flicker, an ember that could easily become a raging inferno. Maybe it already has, and I just don’t want to let myself feel it.
Yet.
I breathe slowly, trying to remain calm, but my body is in pain, and my mind is a battlefield. I can’t see a way out of this. Does Maksim even know where I am? Has he tracked Conrad, or is he searching in the dark, blind, hands raised uselessly in front of him?
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say.
The man grunts, glaring at me.
“I’m going to pee myself.”
He grunts again.
“I don’t know how all this works.” I nod to the stacks of server towers. “But my bladder is very full. What if some of it trickles into the electronics? Won’t your boss be mad?”
He looks at me longer this time, thinking. “You’ll try something.”
I shake my head. “What can I possibly try? You’re twice my size, and you’ve got a gun. I was injured in the car crash. I think I’ve got a broken rib. I’ve definitely got a concussion, since I passed out.”
“Hold it in,” he says gruffly.
“I can’t. I’m not kidding.”
He huffs. “Wait here.”
I almost let out a delirious laugh. It’s the most useless instruction he could’ve given me. Where am I going to go?
He returns a minute later. I press my legs together, partly to put on a show, but also because I’m seriously worried I’m going to have an accident.
“Don’t try anything,” he snaps, approaching me.
He unlocks my cuffs, grabs my arm, and drags me down a dimly lit hallway.
The bathroom is small and lit with a bright fluorescent bulb. He pulls the door open and nods inside.
“I can’t go with you watching me,” I say.
“Then piss on the floor here. I don’t care. No servers here.”
“Imagine I was your mom or your wife. Are you seriously going to make me do this with you watching?”
A flicker of humanity enters his hard expression. A small one.
He backs up down the hallway, but still faces the door. The toilet is partially blocked by the wall.
“This is the best you’re getting,” he grunts, aiming the gun.
I go into the bathroom and do my business quickly, then sit there, wondering what I’m going to do. Or if I can even do anything. My head is splitting down the middle and?—
Suddenly, an alarm cuts through my thoughts. My head explodes from the violent noise.
I think of that girl, last year, with the shellshocked eyes. And I think of Daniel Mercer. And I think of my mother and my little brother, and the fact Maksim told me he loves me.
Standing, I grab the back of the toilet, the heavy lid, and lift it. I press myself against the wall.
Gunfire erupted all around us. Men are roaring. Distantly, I wonder how something as simple as texting has turned my life upside down so fast.
It’s difficult to hear the man walk down the hallway over the chaos all around me, men screaming and the never-ending cacophony of bullets.
The man walks into the bathroom, begins to turn?—
And I smash the heavy toilet lid over his head. He grunts and slides to the floor. I kick him, screaming as I probably break a toe, then I grab his gun and aim it at him. I back up to the wall, hands shaking, vision blurring with adrenaline and the pulsing in my skull.
“Don’t move,” I hiss when he tries to stand.
He moans groggily, his hand twitching.
Oh, no. Did I kill him?
I breathe slowly, trying to stop my hands from shaking. I don’t even know if the safety is off. I try to fiddle with it, but I don’t understand guns, and I still can’t tell. I just have to hope… but even if I need to use it, will I be able to?
I’m not sure how much time passes like this. Maybe it’s my messed-up skull, but I find myself imagining what Maksim would think if he could watch me now. Would he be proud? Would he be shocked? Would he want to make me his Bratva queen?
Minutes drag on, and the gunfire keeps going. The man eventually passes out. I bite my lip, knowing he shouldn’t be lying on his face like that. He could suffocate.
He was going to kill me.
That still doesn’t change the oath I took.
I approach him carefully, then place the gun within arm’s reach. If Conrad’s men charge into this hallway, I’ll have to use it. But how will I know who Conrad’s men are and who belongs to Maksim?
One problem at a time.
My body protests as I rearrange the man on the ground into the recovery position. When I check his pulse, I feel a weak beating. He makes a groaning noise. He’s conscious, at least.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”
The door at the end of the hallway suddenly bursts open.
I stand, my vision hazy, and raise the gun quickly.
A huge man is striding toward me, a weapon in his hand, blood flecking his face and hair. I get ready to pull the trigger, to fight my way out, until he lets out a shuddering breath and I realize who it is.
I step over the barely conscious man, dropping the gun, then burst into tears as I collapse into Maksim’s arms.
“Maksim,” I whimper, pressing my face against his chest. “Maksim. I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I could never abandon you,” he says fiercely. “The first time I laid eyes on you, my light, I knew you were mine. Mine to have, mine to protect, mine to love.”
I look up at him, wishing I could say the words back, wishing I was ready.
He smiles sadly, blood and cuts all over his face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing me on the cheek gently. “I told you once before, Lia, and I’ll tell you again. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Wincing from his injuries, he lifts me into his arms.
“Close your eyes,” he says. “Bury your face in my chest. You don’t want to see.”
“Is it bad?”
“Conrad is dead. His men are dead. Some of mine too. It’s butchery, and far too dark for you.”
I want to tell him I’m stronger than that. He doesn’t have to hide anything from me.
I want to tell him I need to look, because I’m not a coward.
But the truth is, he’s always made letting go feel so easy. I push my face against his hard chest, close my eyes, and let him carry me away.