22. Artem
Artem
“Giselle, do you hear me? Moya, please. Focus. He needs you, right?”
She nods and looks at me again.
“We go. Now. I’ve got you.” I take her hand and lead her with me, walking down the infinite hallways as I try to listen closely for any steps or noises through the ones she’s quietly making behind me.
We reach a room with an open door, and I turn to her to motion for her to hold her gun up as I hold mine the same. The room seems unoccupied, but it’s too quiet.
I see a quick movement, and I push her down as I shoot, and another one comes back but misses above my head.
She yells out when she hears the bangs, and I keep my gun out straight as I finally see the fucking bastard make an up-close appearance.
“You just had to show up, didn’t you? This was none of your business, Sokolov. It’s a family matter.”
“She is my business. She is my family now. So if you think I’m going to let you hurt her, you have another thing coming,” I seethe as I try to take another shot.
It ricochets off of a metal cabinet, and he laughs, moving sideways.
“What the fuck do you want, Leo? Because you sure as shit won’t come an inch closer to her.”
“Why? What’s happened to you, Gigi? I thought you were tough. Someone tough is going to have to take over for that idiot brother of yours, right?” He sneers and I keep my eyes and gun fixed on him as I speak to her.
“Don’t. He’s trying to make you stand so he can take a shot.”
“You wouldn’t be so tough without your Doberman here, maybe I should go through him first—”
And of fucking course that does it. She jumps up from the ground and he immediately shoots, missing when I hold her to duck and go for another shot of my own.
Fuck. I’m almost out of shots. I need to get her out of here.
She’s standing tall, her gun pointed out to him, though her hands are still quivering. She isn’t even able to pull the trigger like this.
“Giselle, get down,” I plead but her eyes never leave his. I sigh and decide to move up, going to try to take my last shot while he’s distracted by her gun but he immediately turns and the shot hits my arm.
“Shit!” I exclaim through my teeth as my hand goes to my bicep, a graze but it’s fucking deep. I can see the panic on her face when she looks at me. “Keep your eyes forward!” I remind her and she nods, sweating as they stay face to face.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for years, Gigi. To finally see you rattled, and imperfect. You’re a mess,” he says with a chuckle.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why would you fucking shoot my brother! Your brother!”
“Are you so fucking dense that you don’t understand why? I have always hated you. Both of you.”
“How can you say that?” she asks through tears.
My strong girl.
“You think I wanted you two? For my father to fuck your whore of a mother? For him to father two bastard children for my bitch of an uncle who couldn’t have his own?”
“Don’t fucking call her that!” she yells and pulls the trigger, the blowback shocking her and causing the shot to go off to the side.
“Do you know how it felt? Watching you fight to become the head over Caesar when that role was fucking mine? I am the first-born fucking son. You two are illegitimate bastards and don’t even fucking qualify!”
A shot from him rings off, and she moves to the side, too far from me now.
“I already got one bastard, and once I take you out, I’ll finally reclaim what was always meant for me.
It’s perfect, really, because this victory is much sweeter leaving you for last, Gigi.
You are the smart one, after all. I’m sure they’ll list your unused accomplishments at your funeral, that way maybe someone will finally acknowledge them,” he says and I hear shots.
Two.
“Giselle!” I yell, but no answer from her.
All I can hear is shuffling, they must be fighting over the guns somehow.
“You know, I knew you were going to be in my way one day,” I hear him say, the struggling still ensuing as I hear her yelp. “I had hoped for something more poetic, like taking you out the same way I took her out, but I’ll settle for this—”
I shoot up from behind the thick counter, finding them tangled on the other side of the room, Leo straddling her as she tries to fight him off, a gun in his hand again.
“Oh, nice of you to join us again Artem, right on time,” he mocks, and sticks the barrel of the gun to her temple.
“Don’t,” I plead, helpless as her eyes meet mine.
It’s happening again.
I knew it would happen again.
I can’t keep her safe. I never fucking had a chance.
When I love someone, I might as well be signing their death certificate.
Please, don’t look at me like that, moya.
“You can’t stop me, Artem. Both of you were always fucking meant for this, you know that? You had to know, you’ve imagined it haven’t you? Seen her die over and over in your head before this moment?”
My teeth hurt from how tight I wire my jaw, my body rigid as I breathe deeply.
Yes.
A million times over the last nine years.
That beautiful fucking night on the roof when I touched her velvet skin for the first time, I saw her dead.
If he had the gun pointed at me, I would have already taken her shot. I would give anything to lay my life down for her.
“Well, this is getting a bit boring now. Turn around,” he says to me, gesturing with his free hand.
When I don’t move, he pushes the gun harder onto her forehead and I take a shuddering breath as I turn.
I’m so sorry, solnishko.
I fucking failed you.
“Hey, wha—”
I turn back when I hear commotion, the gun sliding past me.
“You. Are. The. Fucking. Bastard!”
Each word emphasized as she takes the abandoned construction hammer that must have been laying on the ground and smashes into his skull.
I’m in awe as I watch her. The hammer coming down relentlessly until it’s painfully obvious he’s long gone.
I lied before.
This is my Giselle.
The one full of rage and determination. She might have lost it before the wedding, but it’s back.
“That’s enough moya, you did so good,” I say as I bear hug her from behind, lifting her from the ground and placing her on the tall metal counter. My hands roam over her face, checking her for injuries. “Tell me you’re okay, please,” I beg.
I have never begged in my fucking life.
“You’re the one that’s hurt,” she points out, looking at my arm.
“No, I’m fine. I feel fucking invincible right now,” I say as I grab her head and smash our lips together.
Her tongue swirls in my mouth before they move into hers, the sound of heavy breath and her light moans filling my mind.
“Woah, now this is what I call a fucking party!” I hear Maxim’s voice and pull back. “No way, was this you, little G?” he asks, squatting down to check out Leo’s caved in skull. “Brutal. I like it.”
“Not the time for your gore obsession, Maxim, we need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Where is my brother?” Her voice is small, but hopeful.
“Oh, him? Nah, he’s fine. I mean, he’ll probably be fine. Roman took him to the hospital already.”
Her hand goes to her mouth as the sobs finally flow freely, relieved. I hoist her up into my arms as I move to carry us out of this god-forsaken factory.
When we step into the fresh air, I look down at her, and she’s wiping her cheeks with the oversized sleeves of the sweatshirt, meeting my eyes with a small smile.
My stupid, stupid girl.
“I’m leashing you to my bed after this, solnishko. You’re never leaving my home again.”
“I don’t want to leave again,” she admits, and I set her in my passenger seat.
It’s a long drive until we get to the hospital that Roman took her brother to, and she rushes inside. She has to wait for the surgeons to finish their attempt at removing the bone fragments, and she’s a ball of anxiety.
“You should really have them check your arm,” she says between her pacing.
“My arm is fine, I only need a Band-Aid.”
“I highly doubt that’s true,” she deadpans.
“I’ll clean it at home, I don’t need their help.”
“You should go back, shouldn’t you? I might be stuck here all night,” she says, stopping her panic so she can look at me.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I say, taking her hand.
“I’m fine. Max said he’d stay around and . . . maybe you can bring me some clothes, so I can sleep once I get into his room. And . . . I kind of need some time to myself after that,”
I nod, sighing as I pull her toward me. “I’ll be back. I’ll clean myself up and bring you both something to eat and change into.”
“I’m really sorry,” she says softly, looking up at me.
“Not right now, moya. We’ll deal with that later. Focus on your brother. I’ll be back for you.”
She nods and I reluctantly release her hand, turning to leave the hospital as rain starts to sprinkle outside.
The quiet drive was what I needed. Tonight went so fucking wrong. Caesar really dropped the ball, and I almost . . .
No.
I didn’t lose her.
She survived. She did exactly what she always swore she could do. Exactly what I thought she couldn’t.
Now, what do I do? I feel too afraid to let myself relax. Too afraid to leave her alone anywhere again. But I knew she needed space, so I forced myself to back off.
I finally make it through our gates, parking and hopping out to unlock the door so I can try to hurry up and get back.
The house is dark, not a light left on inside, which is strange. We usually leave them all on.
I walk in, looking around for the light switch by the foyer, but as I flip it on and off, nothing.
A blackout? There isn’t even a storm.
I walk cautiously through the house, seeing a single light shining underneath the basement door.
How the fuck?
I turn the handle, and see a red gift box, tied neatly and sitting on top of the metal desk.
I walk down the few steps and over to the desk, my hand hesitating over it.
This couldn’t have been here before. Something is very, very wrong.
I lift the square lid off the box, and my heart drops through me as I see a skull sitting atop a small, white pillow inside.
My hand shakes as I reach in, lifting the familiar locket from the pillow as I struggle to open it.
Inside, the same picture of Sara and I.
The same locket she always wore.
The one she was supposed to be buried in.