18. Tate
Tate
The back of the ambulance lurches as it hits a bump in the road and I reach out instinctually, putting my hands at Roman’s side.
As if I could stop the bleeding.
As if anything I could do now would change anything.
I’m in a dream, the sirens wailing out from the truck as we drive, the smell of blood and antiseptic and rubber trapped in the air of the back of this thing.
Blood seeps out of Roman onto his shirt, coming from his stomach, more and more, until the paramedics put more pressure on it and I have to take my eyes away.
I stopped shaking long ago, because my body shook so hard it couldn’t anymore.
I’m afraid of everything.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t see things like this. Not ever, in my lifetime.
So many people got shot.
Fuck, Roman, you got shot, and I…
Are the cops going to be there, waiting for us like vultures over a dead body, surrounding Roman’s hospital bed? How widespread is the corruption that exists in the city, hundreds of miles away? Will they know it was all self-defense? Will anyone know the goddamn truth about anything?
I pull in a long, slow breath and feel Roman’s pinky come out to gently stroke along my hand.
He can still move, in these little ways.
Showing me he’s still there.
But he doesn’t open his eyes.
He isn’t… him.
My stable rock, always there to tell me that everything is okay.
He murmurs something softly, but it’s in Russian, and even if it were in my language I don’t think I would have understood it. I lean over to kiss his shoulder, and one of the paramedics pushes me back, telling me to move away.
Hours melt into hours, sitting around in the hospital waiting room, and the night drags on into a long, uninterrupted blur.
The lighting in the hospital is too bright, too fluorescent.
I get a latte from the cheap little machine down the hall that was called “pumpkin spice” but it tastes more like burnt, old cinnamon and clove.
There’s a constant faint beeping from some open door nearby, and a round desk at the center of the hall is where nurses gather between tasks, tapping things out on keyboards and making phone calls.
The whole world is going by.
Even while Roman is lying in there, possibly dying.
And I hate every moment of waiting.
Hunter was with us in the ambulance and soon, Sev, Niko, and Maks arrive, coming to find us in the waiting area.
They’ve all changed clothes.
No one has bloodstains on their shirts anymore, even Maks. I stand up the moment I see him, rushing over to his side.
“How is your wound?” I ask.
He glances up at me. “You saw that I was shot?”
“Of course. The bullet went right over your arm.”
He nods. “It hurts like a bitch, but it didn’t go very deep at all. More like… a very bad surface cut. I took care of it. Roman is okay?”
“They’re still stitching him back into one piece. The doctor explained, but I didn’t understand.”
Maks squeezes my arm.
There’s something comforting about him. He shares some resemblance to Roman, but they’re not identical, clearly cousins and not brothers.
I feel safer, more whole, now that someone Roman loves is here with me.
“If the doctors are trying at all, that means that the bullet didn’t hit him fatally. Roman has been shot before. I have. This is going to be okay.”
“That’s what people keep telling me. But it’s fucking scary. Maks, what happened with Yegor? With the others at the house? I was with Roman until the ambulance arrived, but I heard bad things behind me.”
He sucks in a breath of air.
“Yegor is insane,” Maks says, his eyes looking far off into the distance. “On our side, apparently, but still insane. Tackle regained consciousness and lunged at me with a knife, and I had no choice but to kill. Yegor shot Lucian and Benny gleefully, then the driver of Natalia’s car.”
“Holy shit.”
“We checked the driver’s wallet. He was a Maletti. Not just paid by the Malettis, but a true member of the family.”
“That is terrifying.”
“Right after the ambulance left, Yegor told me he was going to call his friend for a ride to a private medic he trusts. It turned out to be bullshit.”
I frown. “Is Yegor okay?”
“I pretended to leave. I drove off the property in Roman’s car, then walked back onto the edge of Yegor’s land on foot. And I saw him untying the rope binding Natalia.”
My spine tingles. “He is on her side after all of this?”
Maks shakes his head. “He handcuffed her and managed to get her into one of his vehicles.”
“He is doing all of this with a shot knee?”
“Roman is a very, very good shot. He hit Yegor somewhere that makes him bleed, but doesn’t kill. He will get an infection if he doesn’t treat it, but he is very much alive, and dead-set on revenge. He is taking Natalia as a hostage, back into New York City. I am almost certain of it.”
I swallow hard. “And what is he planning to do?”
“Your guess is as good as mine at this point, Tate. We knew Yegor was a problem, but this is very different.”
I walk over toward an open row of chairs and sit down, gripping the arm of my seat because I feel like I’ll be dizzy without it.
Maks comes over to sit next to me.
He doesn’t say much, for a while. But he’s there. It’s the most I could ask for right now.
“I still can’t believe I was just a pawn in their game,” I finally say.
“The day at the beach, I was so close to being kidnapped, and I didn't realize it. Even me coming to Crimson College, and Roman being hired to watch over me, was part of Yegor’s grand plan. I’m a person.
I’m not just a lure for the fish Yegor wanted to catch. ”
“Now you sound like Roman,” Maks says softly.
I turn to him. “How?”
“Roman has felt like a pawn for his whole life.”
I frown. “He isn’t a pawn at all. He’s so… powerful. So steady.”
“You haven’t seen him with his father. He feels like a pawn, only with him.”
“Roman doesn’t even seem to talk to his father very much.”
“It’s by design. While he’s at Crimson, he separates himself from every aspect of his real life. He used to go to Sunday dinners with the family each week, but since you arrived, he doesn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Watching over you was more important,” Maks says.
His expression is gentle.
“But I’ve just caused more chaos in his life.”
“No. Roman cares about you more than I’ve seen him care about anyone in a very, very long time. I know him, Tate. I can promise you this.”
Maks sits beside me for at least another hour.
We don’t say anything more, and eventually we get up and join the other guys in the waiting room.
My exhaustion has been catching up to me for hours at this point, but I’m so wired, and there’s not a chance I’m going to get a moment of rest.
When a nurse finally comes down the hall and looks at me, I stand up immediately.
“How is he?”
“Roman is now coming out of surgery. We were able to remove all of the debris and he should be able to make a full recovery. He is a very lucky man.”
Tears stream down my face before she even finishes a single sentence, and soon, I’m sobbing in front of her.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
When I look over at Maks, he is wiping away his own tears, too, and he gives me a quick hug, squeezing me tight.
The nurse goes over Roman’s healing plan.
When I ask when we can see him, she says that we can visit his room in half an hour, but that he won’t be awake until morning at least.
The moment he is back in his room, all of us go inside.
The Onyx guys all hug him as he sleeps, then say their goodbyes to me and Maks. We stay there all night. Maks gets some sleep sitting up in his chair on one side of Roman, but I don’t sleep a wink.