Chapter 12 #4
Yuri’s arm slammed across my chest from the side. “You can slit his throat later. Right now, we get out.”
And they pulled me. Out the side door, into the thick, humid Cartagena night.
The fire roared behind us as we ran. And all I could think of—was her.
The night air hit like a punch to the lungs—wet, thick, and heavy with smoke. My shirt clung to my back, the blood soaking through the fabric at my arm now cooling, sticking like a second skin.
My feet pounded the gravel, each step a little less sharp than the last, but not by much. The adrenaline was still rushing. Still buying me time. Still numbing the worst of it.
But I could feel it. The slow creep of weakness dragging its fingers up my side. The sting of the graze wasn’t the problem—it was the blood loss.
We ran down a narrow alley beside the docks, shadows stretching long against the low lights. I could hear Yuri breathing hard behind me, Nikolai just ahead, scanning every corner like a soldier who’d never left the battlefield.
“Stop,” Nikolai finally said, his voice sharp.
I slowed, chest heaving, sweat dripping into my eyes. We ducked into the side of a building—low, dark, abandoned—and I leaned against the wall, my palm smearing blood against the concrete.
Nikolai stepped in front of me. “Let me see it.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
“You’re bleeding through your shirt.”
“It’s a graze.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t kill you if you keep acting like it doesn’t exist.”
Yuri stepped in beside him, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes flicking to my arm. “He’s right. You look like shit, boss.”
I let out a sharp breath, jaw clenching. “Both of you—shut up and do something useful.”
Nikolai didn’t move. “Rafael. If you pass out before we get to the resort, we’re screwed. Let me look at it.”
I didn’t want to stop. Not for a second. Not until I was sure I was far away from that warehouse, far away from the betrayal, from the failure burning in the back of my mind.
But I knew he was right.
I slowly peeled the jacket from my shoulder with my good hand, gritting my teeth as it stuck to the wound. Nikolai knelt in front of me, using a flashlight from his pocket to examine it.
“Clean graze,” he muttered. “But deep. You lost more blood than I’d like.”
“Not exactly thrilled about it myself,” I said.
Yuri leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, still watching the street. “You’re lucky that sniper was impatient. Another inch and we’d be dragging your body out instead.”
I didn’t respond. I just looked down at the blood streaking my side. There was something about seeing your own insides on the outside that made the world tilt just slightly off-center.
Nikolai reached into his pocket, pulled out gauze from his emergency kit. “This’ll hold until we get back. After that, stitches, or we can let Isabella deal with it”
The second he said her name, something twisted in my chest.
“I’ll do it myself before she touches me.”
Yuri snorted. “Yeah, that’s why your feet have been dragging the second we got close. Keep lying to yourself. It’s cute.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered.
Nikolai finished wrapping the makeshift bandage tightly around my arm. “Try not to rip that open in the next twenty minutes, yeah?”
I grunted, pushed off the wall. The dizziness came fast but passed just as quickly.
“Let’s move.”
We slipped back into the shadows. Every movement was heavier now. My legs were getting slower, the fatigue setting in like a hangover from war. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been walking—fifteen, twenty minutes maybe—but it felt like longer.
No one spoke for a while. Just the sound of boots scraping pavement and the distant hum of nightlife, muted by the dark edges of the city.
Eventually, the streets started to clean up. The buildings weren’t leaning anymore. Light spilled from restaurants, neon signs flickered above low rooftops, and the music was no longer gunfire—it was bass, laughter, clinking glasses.
Cartagena at night could look like peace. But tonight, I knew better. Tonight, the devil had walked through the fire.
And I had the blood to prove it.
“There,” Yuri said, pointing just ahead.
I looked up and saw the edge of the private resort, carved against the cliffside like it didn’t belong to the world below it. The white stone glowed faintly under the low lights. Security guards stood near the entrance, unaware of what we’d just come from.
My jaw flexed as I took it in. I was close.
The lights from the resort bled into my vision. Soft, golden. Too bright. My breath dragged in deep through my teeth as the ground tilted. Just for a second. A second was all it took.
I staggered. My shoulder dipped, and instinct kicked in—I reached blindly to the side, hand locking around someone’s arm. Solid. Warm. Familiar. Yuri.
He paused mid-step and glanced down at me, one brow raising, the ever-present smirk dimming into something sharper. “Well, fuck,” he muttered, shifting to hold me steady. “Easy there, gladiator.”
I straightened, gritting my teeth. “It’s nothing.”
“Yeah, and I’m a fucking nun,” he shot back, steadying me with one arm while his other hand reached to nudge the edge of the gauze. “You’re bleeding through again.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Nikolai snapped from behind, voice low and hard. “Stop pretending. You’re lucky you’re still walking.”
“I don’t need luck.”
“No,” Yuri muttered, eyes still on me, “you need stitches, blood, and probably someone to smack the pride out of you.”
I didn’t answer. Just rolled my shoulders, forcing my legs back into motion. One foot. Then the next. The pain was white-hot now. Each step like fire licking across my skin. But it kept me awake. Kept me sharp. And I needed sharp.
We reached the gate of the resort, and I nodded to the guards before they could open their mouths. One glance at the blood on my shirt was enough. No one stopped me.
“Where are you going?” Nikolai asked as I turned toward the back villas. My breathing was shallow, but controlled. I didn’t slow.
“To show her,” I said, my voice low. Rough. “What this life really looks like.”
Yuri snorted. “By bleeding all over her doorstep?”
“She signed up for this.”
“She didn’t sign up to be your nurse.”
“She won’t let me die.”
That shut them up.
Yuri tilted his head, like he wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed. “You’re serious.”
“I wouldn’t be walking if I wasn’t.”
Nikolai stepped forward, jaw tight. “Let us take you to the medic, Rafael. Just ten minutes. Then go brood at her window.”
“I’m not changing my mind.” My voice cracked like a whip. “I’ll update you. Stay close.”
Yuri gave me a long look. “If she screams, we’re kicking down the door.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I muttered, turning away from them.
I started walking again. Each step felt heavier. The world narrowed into a single corridor. My breath was shallow now. Controlled, but just barely. My arm throbbed in time with my pulse, and I could feel the blood soaking into my waistband.
I thought about what she’d say. If she’d slam the door. If she’d roll her eyes. Or if she’d finally see the truth— That this life doesn’t wait for comfort or pretty words.
It demands blood. And I was here to bleed.
Her door came into view. I reached the frame, my left hand pressing against the wood to brace myself as the wound in my right screamed. I forced the knock out anyway—sharp, precise.
Three raps. Then silence.
I straightened up the best I could, breathing through the dizziness, my fingers curling around the edge of the doorframe.
Let her see it, I thought.
All of it.