Chapter 18 #3
“I don’t want it, Sasha,” I say hoarsely, trying again to stand, this time with their help. “Get me to Albert Hall. Now.”
I blink several times, and my vision clears almost completely.
“You need a doctor,” Yaroslav snaps, visibly worried. “You’re wounded.”
More Birds of Darkness appear around us, blocking anyone looking our way, confiscating phones or whatever devices they have in hand.
But I feel my patience evaporating completely, because, apparently, they no longer understand the language I am speaking.
“I have to get to her.” My voice is like thunder, but my brothers look even more worried.
“There’s no point going to Albert Hall. The recital is almost over,” Yaroslav says in a grave tone. “Dimitri doesn’t know what to tell her...”
“Nothing.” This time, my voice is loaded with rage and frustration. “He tells her nothing about what happened.”
“Come to the car and let the boys handle what’s here,” Sasha intervenes, serious.
As I study them, I realize they don’t look much better, though neither of them has any visible injuries.
The eldest brother gets behind the wheel, leaving me in the back seat, while Sasha sits beside me with a first-aid kit in his arms.
“Where are you hurt?”
Even though it feels like everywhere, I try to give him the most concrete answer I can. “Shoulder. Did the bullet go through?”
He looks behind me, and I grimace a little when he moves me.
“Yes. That’s good. But that river of blood running down the back of your neck, what’s that from? Did you boys play with paint while you were in the car?”
I bring my hand to the back of my neck and touch the area I can feel is swollen. It hurts like hell, and when I look at my fingers, they are stained with blood.
From previous experience, I know it will pass quickly after two aspirins and some vodka.
“They hit me when they were taking me to the car. Are you two OK?”
“We’re better than you,” Sasha answers while trying to get me out of my clothes and bandage me temporarily until the doctor sees me. “The rest of the Birds arrived right after they took you and started clean everything up.”
“Did you catch anyone alive?”
“Two. Wounded, but alive.”
“For now,” Yaroslav mutters in a dark tone.
“How many men did we lose?”
“Eight.”
I curse through my teeth.
“They were twice our number and had military-grade weapons,” Yar explains.
“Origin?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Every movement is agony, but my mind goes back to Katya. “I want to see her.”
Sasha sighs loudly before rattling everything off as if he has been holding it all in.
“Dima says she received a picture from the club, from tonight, when you were talking to that whore. We don’t know who sent it to her right before the recital started, with a messagesayingshe’sbeenyourmistressforyears.She’s fucking upset.”
My body tenses, and the pain blurs my vision for a second.
“I’ll kill them,” I growl at the universe, already making the bloodiest plans for those responsible.
“We’re with you, brother,” the blond tells me as he sticks a gigantic plaster over my shoulder in the front, then another on my back, where the bullet exited.
“I want to know her every move,” I say categorically. “And I need to see her immediately. No exceptions.”
“We’re going home,” Yaroslav informs me. “Dima will certainly bring her there straight after the performance, especially after what happened.”
“She must not know. I told you.”
“He won’t tell her anything, relax,” Sasha scolds me too. “Now let me clean off the blood, otherwise you’ll have to tell her about tonight’s madness. Or lie and say you were at a slaughterhouse right when they were butchering pigs.”
“She doesn’t need to know anything,” I repeat, much more quietly.
“You are so fucking stubborn,” Yar mutters, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “The doctor will be at the house soon too, but if you need to go to a hospital,I’ll dragyouthere byforce.AndInolongercare about anyone, or any story meant to protect your princess.”
“In the future, I expect you to stop making sarcastic remarks about my wife.”
Yar turns quickly toward me, not caring about the traffic ahead, and from the corner of my eye, I see Sasha looking at me just as strangely.
“Did he hit his head that badly?” Yar asks the youngest, who stops applying the cleaning solution to the wound at the back of my neck.
Thank God that he stops for a second, because it stings like hell.
“I wouldn’t have said so, but apparently, yes.”
My jaw tightens. “I am perfectly lucid.”
“I’m pretty sure your voices disagree,” the blond says.
Rarely do my brothers approach this delicate subject, using the term “voices,” as I call them. In general, it is taboo, something only the two of them know about in more detail, along with my parents, who noticed this small “problem” when I was a child.
And to that short list of people, we can now add my future wife.
“On the contrary. They are very pleased, and I can say it was their idea.”
“But you are not married to Ekaterina,” Yaroslav says.
“Not yet,” I answer in a calm tone. “But she will be very soon.”
If my entire body did not hurt, I would smile.