Page 120 of Deviant Need

The thing is, despite all this sketchy behavior, I know Yulian. He’s an asshole, he’s manipulative, but he’s never been a traitor. He’d die for this family without hesitation.

“Fine. But when this blows up, and it will, you better have answers.”

He nods, relief flickering across his face for half a second before he schools it back to neutral and walks out. Finally. Quiet again.

I start to get comfortable when the machines suddenly start beeping. Everything on the screen flashes red, forcing me to jump off the bed.

Chapter 28

Daniil

My eyes crack open, and everything is white. Too bright. Shapes blur and shift above me, voices muffled like I’m underwater. I blink once, twice, trying to force my vision into focus, but it refuses to cooperate. Everything hurts. My entire body feels heavy, exhausted, like someone drained every bit of energy out of me and left nothing behind.

I try to move, but my limbs won’t respond properly. Too heavy. Too slow.

“Daniil, can you hear me?” a voice cuts through the fog, clearer now.

Blinking again, a face comes into focus. A doctor, I think. She’s leaning over me, shining a light directly into my eyes. The brightness makes me want to pull away, but I can’t move enough to do it.

“Good, his pupils are responsive,” she says to someone else I can’t see.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” another voice says from my left. “You’ve had a breathing tube. Your throat is going to be sore for a while.”

My brain moves sluggishly, trying to piece together what happened.

The club. The explosions. Mikhail covered in blood. Walking through the hallway. Gunshots.

“Daniil, I need you to squeeze my hand if you can hear me,” the doctor says.

Feeling pressure in my right hand, I try to focus on it. Try to make my fingers move. It takes more effort than it should, but I manage to squeeze weakly.

“Good,” she says, sounding relieved. “That’s good. You’re doing great.”

Someone adjusts something near my arm, and I realize there are tubes attached to me. IVs. Monitors beeping steadily somewhere to my right.

“You’re in the hospital,” the doctor says gently. “You’ve been unconscious for several days. You were shot during an attack. Do you remember any of that?”

Where is he?

I try to look around, but moving my head sends a wave of dizziness through me. The room tilts slightly, and I have to close my eyes to steady myself.

“Easy,” the doctor says. “Don’t move too much yet. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Your brother is here,” someone says.

The exhaustion pulls at me again, but I force my eyes to stay open. I need to see him. Need to know he’s okay. Footsteps rush toward me, and then he’s there, his face appearing above mine. His blue eyes are red-rimmed and exhausted, dark circles underneath them like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Danya,” he breathes out, and his voice breaks on my name.

I try to smile, but I’m not sure if my face is cooperating. My hand twitches, and he grabs it immediately, holding on tight.

“You’re okay,” he says, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.

I squeeze his hand weakly, and his grip tightens.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he says, and there are tears running down his face now. “You scared me.”

I want to tell him I’m sorry. Want to tell him I love him. But my throat hurts too much, and the exhaustion is winning. My eyelids feel heavy again, dragging down despite my efforts to keep them open.