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“Mommy!”
“Willow!” I sprint to her, scooping her up into my arms. Now feels like the perfect time to let those choked-back sobs run free. “My baby! Oh, my baby! My sweet baby!”
She clings to me, shaking like a leaf.
“I’ve got you. Mommy’s got you. You’re safe.”
I hug her so tight, I might as well be reabsorbing her back into my body. At the moment, that feels like the best way to keep her safe from this horrible world.
Demyen comes up behind me and hugs both of us tightly. He presses a kiss to Willow’s forehead. “Thank God,” he breathes. For a millisecond, his hand that cups her face actually trembles. “You okay, little cub? Are you hurt?”
Willow shakes her head.
“How about Pavel? Where’s Uncle Pav?”
At this, she hesitates. Then she points back at the HVAC system. “He hid me,” is all she whimpers.
He did. And he did a fucking phenomenal job of not only hiding her, but truly protecting her. Both Demyen and I can see the dents where bullets ricocheted off the thick metal that makes up most of the processing units when we make our way over. There’s a small space in the middle of all those huge metal units that’s just big enough for a small child to tuck inside.
A few yards away, we find Pavel.
He’s been shot.
And it’sbad.
“Pav.” Demyen drops to his side and lightly smacks his too-pale face a few times. “Come on, stay with me. This is not how you go out, man. Not on some preschool playground.”
“Kindergarten,” comes the softly-groaned reply. Pavel slowly blinks his eyes open as much as he can muster the strength to do. “It’s fucking kindergarten. Big kids. Get it right.”
Demyen rolls his eyes. The majority of the blood seems to be pooling around his stomach and that is not a good place to take a hit.
“Clara,” Demyen barks without looking up at me. He hands me his gun, which I take with no small amount of hesitation while still carrying Willow in my arms. “Take my car and get Willow home. I’m taking Pav to the hospital.”
Sirens call out in the distance. Finally, help is arriving—but I’m going to make an educated guess that a Bratva-versus-Yakuza firefight at a school means a delay in getting Pavel help and a shit ton of interrogations, paperwork… and dealing with my father.
Or Martin.
I’m not sure which is worse.
“We’re coming with you.” I take the keys he’s holding out, but I refuse to just run home and hide.
“Clara—”
“Demyen. He risked his life for her. Forus. We’re going to be there when he wakes up.”
He distracts his own frustration by hoisting Pavel into his arms. When he’s about halfway up, he grunts and gives me his best warning look. “Oleg might find you.”
“Good thing I’ve got a gun.”
I see the corner of his mouth twitch. Then he sighs and uses the breath to lift Pavel up the rest of the way, at least enough to drag him to the other car. “I’d rather you go home where it’s safe.”
“I’d rather not be on the open road without security,” I counter.
That lands how I want it to. Demyen grunts another bout of frustration, but we get Pavel into the car and buckle him in, careful of his wound.
Next thing I know, I’m pulled into a searing kiss that almost makes my teeth hurt.
Demyen breaks it off and stares me directly in the eyes, his hand in my hair to hold me in place so I don’t look away. “You ride my ass all the way to the hospital, understood? I can’t lose you again. I can’t…” He blinks. Clears his throat. Then turns to Willow and gives her another kiss to her sweet face. “You make sure Mommy does as she’s told, okay? I’m counting on you.”
