Chapter 26 – Lukyan
At times like this, I’m deeply grateful for my team’s forward-thinking. There are several medical personnel already waiting at the hotel when the convoy tears through the gates and screeches to a halt, their equipment prepped and ready for both Ben and Sofia.
I don’t let anyone else touch her. I carry Sofia straight up to our master bedroom, my boots leaving a trail of smeared crimson on the marble elevator.
Two doctors immediately begin to attend to her the second I lay her down on the sheets, cutting away the blood-soaked fabric of her sleeve.
I stand at the foot of the bed, my hands covered in her blood, chest heaving as I watch them work.
I am prepared to tear this house apart if they tell me she is slipping away.
I’m intensely thankful when the lead surgeon finally looks up and tells me it’s just a graze.
“The bullet tore through the deltoid flesh, but it isn’t lodged in her skin, so it’s not fatal. It missed the bone and the brachial artery entirely. She’s out from the trauma and the exhaustion, not because she’s slipping away. She needs stitches and a heavy sedative,” he says.
The relief that washes over me is paralyzing, though the trauma and her weakened state leave her completely unconscious for an extended period. I stay close throughout the entire ordeal, refusing to leave her side for even a single second.
An hour later, the bedroom door clicks open. Viktor slips into the room on quiet footsteps, his face grim as he approaches the edge of the bed where I sit holding Sofia’s uninjured hand.
“Lukyan,” Viktor whispers, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the silence. “The street patrols found the getaway vehicle Karl used. It was abandoned near the southern transit tracks. I have Maxim pulling the security feeds from the rail yard right now to see if—”
“I don’t care, Viktor,” I cut him off, my voice flat and dead. I don’t even look up at him; my eyes remain fixed on the steady, slow rise and fall of Sofia’s chest.
“Boss, he’s still in the city,” Viktor presses, taking a step closer. “We have a window to corner him before he leaves Russian territory. If we deploy the heavy tactical units to the borders—”
“I said I don’t care,” I repeat, turning my head slowly to glare at him with an intensity that makes him freeze. “Not right now, please. Handle things without me for now.”
He nods and leaves the room.
For the first time since this war started, that damn code means absolutely nothing to me.
The books we nearly died for, the intricate patterns, the global financial system—it can all burn to ash for all I care.
If she isn’t here to see it, the legacy is just a pile of useless, bloody paper. My focus narrows completely to her.
For two agonizing days, I live in the heavy leather chair beside her bed, refusing to sleep, refusing to change out of my wrinkled shirt. I monitor every single detail of her recovery, barely blinking, watching for the smallest signs of movement in her fingers or the slight twitch of her eyelids.
The doctor enters on the second morning to check the monitors, stepping lightly around my chair. “Her vitals are stabilizing nicely, Mr. Rusnak. Her fever broke an hour ago. She should be waking up soon.”
“Her breathing changed slightly ten minutes ago,” I tell him, my voice raspy from disuse. “It became shallower. Why?”
The doctor blinks, thoroughly surprised by how closely I’ve been tracking her respiratory patterns. “That’s just a normal transition from deep sleep to a lighter REM cycle, sir. It means her brain is processing the sedation. It’s a very good sign.”
“It better be,” I murmur, my hand tightening gently around hers as the doctor checks the IV line and quickly exits the room.
I lean forward, resting my forehead against the edge of her mattress, letting the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor anchor me to reality.
It feels as though maintaining absolute, unyielding control over this one thing—over her survival—is the only way to steady myself and keep the darkness in my chest from swallowing me whole.
Now that I know for sure that Sofia will be okay, my thoughts shift toward retribution.
While I remain physically still beside Sofia, my mind is already set on what comes next.
Karl’s escape isn’t acceptable. The attack, the years of manipulation, and now the sight of Sofia’s blood on my hands have pushed me far beyond the realms of calculated strategy.
This is no longer about reclaiming power, securing assets, or deciphering an empire’s financial blueprint.
It’s personal.
I pull out my phone and send a single text to Ben. He needs to be in this room.
Even though he was severely beaten in captivity, Ben is already doing okay, his loyalty refusing to let him rest. When he walks into the bedroom a few minutes later, his steps are slightly stiff.
His left eye is still swollen shut and purple, and his split lip is held together with butterfly stitches, but he looks steady enough to stand.
“I’m here,” Ben says, his voice raspy as he stops a few feet from the bed, his posture light.
I don’t waste time with pleasantries. I keep my eyes on Sofia as I speak. “What’s the update on Karl?”
“Maxim and some of the men went after his secondary trail near the transit lines, but he was no longer on site by the time they breached the safe house,” Ben reports, his jaw tightening.
“He slipped through the immediate dragnet. But the men are working actively to find another location. We’re shaking down every front company he used to fund his mercenaries. ”
I nod slowly, the anger inside me turning cold, sharp, and precise.
I look up from Sofia to meet Ben’s good eye.
“Use as many of our resources as you can. Double the bounties on the street. Pull our deep-cover operatives out of the ministries if you have to. I want Karl dead, Ben. No captures, no interrogations. I want him erased.”
Ben nods sharply, a look of grim satisfaction passing over his bruised face. “Understood. I’ll oversee the hunting parties myself.”
He pauses, his eyes drifting over to the unconscious Sofia, tracking the steady rise and fall of her chest under the heavy duvet. “Is she… is she going to be okay, Lukyan?”
“She’ll be okay,” I say, my voice softening just a fraction as I look back down at her pale, peaceful face. “The bullet only grazed her. She just needs time.”
“Good,” Ben murmurs, relief visible in the tension leaving his shoulders. “We’ll find him for her, Boss. I’ll leave now.” He gives a short nod and quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him to lock out the rest of the world.
Once we are alone again, the silence of the room envelops us, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the medical equipment. I lean over the mattress and gently lift her uninjured hand, bringing her knuckles to my lips. I press a long, lingering kiss against her skin.
“I love you, Sofia,” I whisper against her hand, the words a sacred vow in the quiet room. “I’ll finish this. For you.”