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Konstantin barked out rapid orders in Russian but stayed behind to keep watch.
They leaned against a wall, and she staggered, lowering herself to the ground. He followed her, cradled her head in his hand, and put the other on her chest to keep her steady.
Zia trembled in his arms and then looked up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. Patches of dirt covered her face and hands. A sleeve of her blouse slid downwards below her shoulder, and her skirt was ripped at the hem.
She looked so vulnerable, so weak.
The fire in her eyes—the one that challenged me for inviting her to my house—had died down.
Now, her lips quivered, and tears rolled down her cheeks. He held her close, succumbing to the primal desire to keep her away from harm.
More rapid gunfire resonated from inside the club, and more screams filled the air. Bodies dropped like dead flies around them, while some managed to escape unscathed.
But none of them concerned him.
His eyes scanned the rubbles around them, and fury spread through every inch of him. He needed to get them to safety. “We need to get out of here, now.”
She said something indistinct, and he lowered his ear to her lips.
“What was that?”
“I feel… I feel dizzy.”
Konstantin fired over their heads, and, in shock, she shrieked and threw her arms around him. He should have turned away, not allowed her to hold him so close. But her scent, a mixture of flowers, blood, and sweat, reeled him in deeper.
Blood?
Swiftly, he pulled back and assessed her, from her head to her clothes. As he checked her head, down her neck, the explosions and gunfire exchanges soon ceased.
That’s when he saw it. The trail of blood behind one of her arms. She’d grazed the skin deeply, and red gushed out. It must have been when she got knocked down inside.
Alarmed, he rose to his feet, scooping her up in his arms, bridal style.
“Boss…”
He ignored the caution and marched toward the sleek black Mercedes parked by the curb.
Konstantin fell in step beside him, walking ahead to get his attention. His blue eyes were cold, calculative, and questioning as always. But now was not the time.
Lev growled. “Kostya, open the fucking door.”
Hesitantly but without a word, he opened the passenger door, and Lev gently lowered her onto the seat. He shut the door and faced Konstantin. Even if he knew what was coming, he wasn’t fazed.
Lev curled his fist and raised it, aiming fast toward his jaw. But, at the last minute, he stopped himself from breaking something.
“Boss, listen… I know I don’t question you—”
“You fucking question me all the time, Kostya. It’s one of the reasons I’ve come this close,” he brought his index finger and thumb close to each other. “this fucking close to breaking your jaw multiple times. What the fuck is it now?”
He pointed at the glass, and Lev turned. She was shaking. Her eyelids dropped and opened slowly. She clutched her side and dropped her head against the window.
“The girl.”
“What about her?” He rubbed his temple, agitated. Seeing her in pain rubbed him the wrong way. “She’s hurt, and it’s not like it’s any of your fucking business, but I have to take her out of here.”
“Do you need to? I mean, I can get Ivan to take her to the hospital. We don’t have to make her our responsibility.”
“Didn’t say she was my responsibility.”
