And Donatello knew, of course, a part of me snarls. Once again, he’s led you like a lamb to the slaughter.
No. I shake my head, quashing the guilt. There isn’t time to dwell. I need to think.
They can’t expect me to move them by myself, he said. Does that mean he’s working alone?
Why?
And who is “they”?
“Hey! Where are you going?” Eli demands as the man moves without warning, venturing from the door.
Through the pane of glass, I catch a glimpse of him with his hand at his ear. He’s on his headset.
But Donatello said the cell towers were down, interfering with his ability to use a cell phone.
This guard must be speaking via a local connection. Which means whoever he’s communicating with must be somewhere on the hospital grounds. Waiting to attack?
Or is their plan more nefarious? What I overheard him say before keeps echoing in my head. Move them. Eli and Ellen? But where…
“He’s coming back,” Ellen says.
Sure, enough the guard is returning, approaching the door directly. As he wrenches it open, something in his expression makes me step back.
“There’s been a breach at the manor. I need you to come with me,” he says, reaching for Eli. “The other men are on their way for Mrs. Stepanova and you, Ms. Willow.”
No. I step in front of Eli. Objectively, I’m not even sure why. It’s a pulse, surging through my blood as strong as my heartbeat. Or maybe it’s a voice whispering through my skull in a baritone suspiciously resembling Donatello’s. Don’t let him go.
“Please…” The man sighs, glancing over his shoulder. He looks impatient, like he’s waiting for something. Expecting something.
“We should all move together,” Ellen declares, her eyes narrowing. “What kind of breach happened? Let me speak to my husband—”
“There isn’t time.” The man grabs for Eli only to grunt in shock, clutching his hand to his chest. Blood drips from it, stemming from a jagged cut sliced into his forearm.
The strange thing is that I don’t even remember grabbing the knife. Sure enough, it’s in my hand, trembling with how tightly I’m gripping it.
I’m flashed back to the last time I brandished this very dagger against another person. With Donatello beside me, his voice rasping against my ear. “He deserves to be punished,” he told me then. “You know that as well as I do. So where should we start?”
“Willow!” Horror wracks Ellen’s voice, but the guard has my attention.
“Fuck.” He slides his hand into his pocket again. This time, he withdraws a gun, aiming it at her.
“Please get back into the room Mrs. Stepanova,” he commands. “The boy will come with me, and more men will come to escort you to safety. There isn’t time for argument.”
He’s lying.
I know that in my gut, though I can’t explain why.
Eli’s eyes meet mine, and in them, I see bravery. A hint of fear. Overall? Trust. The same trust I once felt, confident that the man before me could never let me down.
Never leave…
“Come on,” the guard commands. Digging his fingers into Eli’s injured shoulder, he yanks him back.
I don’t think. I just react. The blade flashes through the air, raised high. Then, with a sickening thud, it strikes something firm. It resists at first, then relents with a heart-wrenching sensation.
The guard shoves Eli aside, grasping a chunk of my hair in a fist. He staggers, dragging me with him, so brutally tears prickle my eyes. “Little… Bitch…”
Suddenly, a force slams into me from the side, knocking me to the floor. Crushing me. The stench of blood is overwhelming, an oppressive weight pinning me down.
The guard? He’s too heavy. Unmoving.
As if from miles away, I hear Eli and Ellen talking, but their words overlap, impossible to decipher.
But then a louder voice cuts through the din, impeccably clear. Probably because it’s spoken against my ear, persistent as the pressure weighing me down is suddenly withdrawn.
“I’ve got you,” that voice continues as I lurch onto my hands and knees, twisting my head to get my bearings. “It’s okay.” An arm goes around my waist as I spy the guard nearby, lying on his side. He isn’t moving.
Which means, he isn’t the figure whose strength spreads through me as a stabilizing force, his voice so soft… Softer than I’ve ever heard it. “Don’t look at him. I’ve got you.”
Tears spring to my eyes, impossible to keep at bay. I just let them fall as the unseen figure continues to hold me, repeating those same three words over and over. “I’ve got you.”
It’s a lie; I know it is. He’ll have me until he no longer has any use for me…
But for the time being, his presence drowns out the guilt.
And I don’t have the energy to resist him.
23
Evgeni
We’re too late. I sense it the second we pull into the parking lot. Roughly an hour after the blast, and I’m sure the bastard has already made his move.
Though what it might be? Who the hell knows.
Without any contact with any of the men inside, I’m blind to what we might be walking in to. My gun is my only backup.
And her. She’s been so quiet, I’ve almost forgotten she’s here.
“You learned nothing else?” I call to her.
When she doesn’t answer, I turn and find her slumped on her side, her eyes closed.
“Shit.”
I climb into the back seat, focusing on her thigh. Up close, the severity is worse than I could have imagined. It’s deep, almost down to the muscle. Whatever cut her, must have hit an artery. Or two. Beneath her, the floor of the vehicle is soaked with blood, but the fee for a damaged rental is the least of my concerns. I think she’s dead. Her skin is so pale I can see the map of veins snaking beneath.
I feel along her neck, shocked to feel a faint, but steady pulse.
“Not dead yet, soldier,” she rasps. Her eyelids flutter, but she only
