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“Oh, wait, I can—”
“Already done.” Vespa pushed up with her good hand, rising without even a sway despite the sling. She stared at Alina again. “The Di Salvos aren’t cowards. The Bratva really would see them coming.” She reached out, running a finger along the bandage wrapped around Alina’s head. “But someone like you? Nah, most men don’t see someone like you coming.” Her hand dropped, and she took a step back.
Alina’s own hand rose, the one with the splint around her trigger finger. She skimmed the bandage herself, knowing she couldn’t wait until it ached less.
“Good luck,” Vespa murmured without a smile. “You’re going to need it. Ivankov is insane. You’re probably going to die, but that’s a choice everyone should make for themselves. Your man worth dying for?”
Alina didn’t hesitate. “Yes. He is.”
Vespa grinned. “Well then, seems you’re decided.” She cocked her good hand in a wave. “Hope I’ll be seeing you, but now I’ve got to find Montrell. My place is where he is.” Her steps were swift, even on the stairs that bounced her bad arm.
Alina was alone in the hallway. That would work. Someone like Vespa would distract everyone when she entered a room.
Alina was going to take a number from Luka’s book and sneak in the shadows. Luka had saved her more than once.
It was time Alina returned the favor.
Chapter 33
Luka woke up alone the second time. The first time, Ivankov had been there, and he hadn’t been happy. It hadn’t mattered, not with Luka’s fear gone.
The sound of the gunshot still ricocheted in Luka’s ears. Alina’s gasping cry, which had been choked off. And then a great, final nothingness.
If she was dead, the nothingness made sense, but Luka had needed to see for himself. He’d woken the first time to someone petting his scalp, the pain of it seeping into his subconscious. He’d struggled to surface, hoping it was Alina. She never could help herself, and he should have taken issue with her crossing his boundaries, but he only wished it didn’t hurt so much.
When he woke to Ivankov’s bigger hand stroking him, it was much easier to slap the touch away. His monster must have dragged him out of the estate. He didn’t remember leaving.
Despite his aching head and the multiple cuts inflicted during their fight in the bedroom, Luka fought yet again. He went into the frenzy Ivankov craved but that rarely surfaced. This frenzy wasn’t about killing the monster.
He needed to leave this strange, crumbling place Ivankov had brought him to. He needed to see her body for himself.
Once Ivankov realized his goal, his delight transformed into fury, and he broke Luka’s leg. When Luka continued to try to crawl away, he didn’t stop there.
Luka was surprised he woke at all. And disappointed. The rattling rasp of his indrawn breath no longer filled him with pain. Cold had sunk inside as he waited for death to take him to her.
Ivankov had gone too far a time or two before, and a numbness always followed. Luka had always managed to crawl away, and Giovanni would find him.
Luka didn’t want history to repeat itself anymore. He pressed against a burned beam of a destroyed house and looked up into the rain that fell through the burst ceiling. It was more of a misting fog than true raindrops. If the sky truly opened above him, his body would grow colder, and its attempts to drag in air would stop.
Ivankov must not have wanted him to die. His broken leg was spread in front of him and bound to a board. Singed sheets had been wrapped tightly around his chest. The Bratva leader was terrible at first aid. He never tried to keep anything alive.
The idea that death wouldn’t be that simple made Luka’s eyes shut. The mist dampened his closed eyelids, almost like tears.
Alina was beautiful when she cried, but it was too painful to watch. He much preferred her small smile. The one that meant she was happy. At peace.
If his mother was right, death wouldn’t reconnect them. Luka wouldn’t repent. He had done what he’d done over the years with no doubts about what his eternity would hold, if it existed. His sins would have been worth hell if he’d managed to kill the monster.
Numbness spread, taking away even the idea of attacking anyone.
“Luka?”
The demons that had come to drag him to their depths were cruel. They sounded like Alina.
Stabbing pain streaked through his hand as someone held it. He’d lost his gloves somewhere. No, he hadn’t worn them when he’d joined Alina on the bed in the room they shared.
His eyes opened, and he saw exactly what he’d been wanting most. Well, almost, but he would accept no smile. Her tears made more sense.
“Oh, Luka,” she gasped, her hand squeezing and sending more shooting pain to break up the spreading ice inside. It was cruel, how much it hurt.
