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Luka cried out as if he was the one who’d been shot. He barely noticed Ivankov taking the gun from him as he ran to his mother. Pain was etched on her face, but she wasn’t screaming or crying with it.
Her hand was wet with blood as she lifted it from her stomach and caressed his face. “It’s okay, Luka. God understands.”
Ivankov laughed behind him. Then the sound of a shot filled the room again. Luka had thought it was loud while he pulled the trigger. It was deafening from across the room.
Luka’s older sister didn’t cry out. The bullet went through her head, and she fell over, wet tears still on her face.
An animalistic sound filled Luka’s ears as he threw himself between Willow and Ivankov. He had no more weapons. He used his teeth and hands and clawed at Ivankov’s hand that held the gun.
The demon laughed at his efforts, using the butt of the weapon to knock him down.
Luka lay with his head pounding.
“It’s okay, little wolf. You have the drive but not the skill. I’ll teach you.”
Luka shook his head against the ground as he realized he was no better than his father. Snot and tears ran down his face. “You promised.” The words were that of a child. Something he wouldn’t be much longer.
A soft voice seemed to call his name. It didn’t fit. Willow had never called for him. She’d also never looked at him the same.
No, her eyes had been similar to the boy’s as she’d watched him become a monster.
“Luka, wake up.”
He stared at his sister’s lips, so tightly pressed together.
“I didn’t break my promise,” Ivankov said. “One sister lives. Whether it remains that way is up to you.”
He pointed the gun at Willow again. Luka realized that while he’d held it he’d never once thought of turning it on Ivankov.
His father would be angry. A man was supposed to protect.
Luka felt pressure on his forehead. It didn’t come with the worst of the pain of being touched. No, there was a barrier, but slithering, arcing nerves slid through him where the hand pressed.
He deserved them. Especially when he heard his sister’s voice. She’d said nothing the night Ivankov destroyed their family.
No, her words came much later, and he’d been helpless to stop her.
“I never wanted to live.” Willow’s voice had broken as she used the knife.
“Don’t.” Luka barely recognized his own voice. It was too low, too gruff with emotion he thought he no longer felt. He forced his eyes open, terrified they would fill with tears.
Sunlight dazzled him from the window.
Blocking part of it, Alina pulled her hand away from the cool, wet rag on his forehead. “Oh, sorry,” she said, her fingers curling against her palm.
Luka had a crick in his neck from how he had slept. He forced his body up with his hands, though it didn’t want to obey him at first. The pain running through him wouldn’t be a deterrent. His body was conditioned to follow orders.
His head still felt woozy.
“Wait, don’t get up yet.” Alina’s hand hovered above his back. The towel there slid off as he scrambled away.
Luka hissed in pain as his destroyed back brushed the wall. He stopped trying to get away when he realized she made no move to follow. His eyes couldn’t completely land on her.
Alina frowned down at the bloodied towel instead. “It’s okay. I wasn’t going to touch you.” Her gaze lifted, but he refused to meet it.
Luka blinked, trying to force himself to focus on her. Why the hell had he returned to the safe house?
“I won’t ever touch you. Not since I know it hurts.” She swallowed, staring down at the bandage on her arm. “And I expect the same. Never without permission. Deal?”
