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We run to the dock, piling into the speedboat as Adrik casts off. This time we count to be sure no one is left behind: Sabrina, Adrik, Kade, Hedeon, Ivan, Sloane, Freya, the four Petrov soldiers, Leo, Anna, Dean, Rafe, and me.
Then we’re speeding down the dark river, the stone tunnel so close that we have to crouch low in the boat, still hearing the crashes and echoes of falling rock behind us.
We pass through a dark cavern, the ceiling suddenly soaring overhead, the water glittering black, the motor loud in the empty space.
Anna’s scream echoes off the walls as there’s a splash right behind us, and she shouts out, “LEO!”
Leo has fallen in, sinking below water darker than ink.
The boat is already far past where he fell. Adrik cuts the motor, trying to circle around. Dean dives off the boat, stroking hard for the place where Leo disappeared.
Sloane takes the headlamp off the front of the boat, aiming it across the water.
I see Dean’s pale blond head dive under again and again as he searches for Leo. I’m about to jump off the boat myself when he pops up once more, this time dragging something heavy.
Anna leaps into the water too. Together, they haul Leo back in.
He’s gray with cold and shock.
Adrik starts the motor again, roaring off down the dark river.
We speed faster and faster, recklessly close to the stone walls.
Then, like a cork out of a champagne bottle, we pop out into dazzling sunshine and cold, fresh air.
34
Rafe
We take Leo, Hedeon, and Kade to the hospital in Almaty.
I have a pretty nasty puncture in my shoulder that requires a dozen stitches, and Timo needs a bullet dug out of his calf, though he doesn’t mention it until we’re at the hospital, as it wasn’t bothering him too much and he didn’t want to make a fuss about it.
The Kazakh doctors are wise enough to take my mother’s wad of bills and use the language barrier as an excuse not to ask any questions.
My mother insists that they fully examine my dad, to make sure he’s not in any worse condition than might be expected after his prolonged imprisonment.
It’s strange to see how much he’s changed. Even after he’s showered and shaved off the beard, and cut his hair above the shoulders, there’s a new hardness to his face, a leanness to his frame carving out each muscle to its most extreme shape.
He can’t take his eyes off my mother. They refuse to part from each other, even for a moment. I’ve never seen her cling to him like this, never letting go of his arm or his hand, never taking a step from his side.
I feel the same about Nix. I don’t let her out of my sight, afraid that she might be far more fragile than she looks, ready to shatter any second like hot glass under cold water.
I think she’s in shock.
She sits silent and pale, all brightness wiped from her face.
Everyone else has cleaned up and changed clothes. She still sits in the outfit she chose so hopefully for our date, her clothing filthy with dust and stained with her father’s blood.
When my parents return—my father clean-shaven and my mother wearing her favorite leather jacket and boots once more—Nix looks up at them both.
“How much money did he take from you?” she asks. “I’ll pay you back every cent.”
My father looks at her, his eyes dark as flint.
“Money can’t repay what was taken,” he says.
Nix trembles under his stare, but she holds his gaze.
