Another voice behind him. “Fuck. Kiro. Fuck.” This one knows my name. He’s working at my chains, unlocking my bloody shackles while the first one hugs me like a madman, speaking that strange language.
Suddenly I’m free. I push the first one off.
The other grabs my shirt. “We’re your brothers, Kiro.” He pulls me up. “Can you stand?”
“Brothers?” I whisper, swaying, hardly grasping the meaning of the word.
He watches my eyes. “We’re your brothers.”
I blink, eyes adjusting to the light, lips still numb. “Brothers?”
The American’s eyes shine. He holds my shoulders, steadying me. His eyes are darker than mine, but his hair is the same, his face is the same. “We’ve been looking for you forever.”
My pulse races.
He pulls me to him, chest to chest. “Fuck, Kiro. We’re here now. We have your back.”
I feel numb. It’s not the drugs this time; it’s too much emotion. I pull him to me, bloody hands digging into him. A brother. My eyes feel hot.Brothers.
“Out of the way,brat!” the other one growls. The music of his growl connects to something inside me. There’s something so familiar in his voice. Then I realize it’s like my own. These are my brothers.
The other one claps a hand onto the top of my head, ruffling my hair. “Baby brother!”
The American one lets me go and nods at the other. “This is Viktor. I’m Aleksio. Fuck, we’ve been searching for you. They said you were dead, but I knew you weren’t.”
My heart thunders.
“We have to get out of here,” Viktor says.
“The reporter said they shot you up with something. Is it true? Can you walk? Run?”
“Can you shoot?” Viktor asks.
I scrub my face and take a deep breath. I have brothers.
Viktor is on the phone, telling somebody to hurry. A dark thought comes to me. “The hospital,” I say. “Ann. He’ll go after her now.”
“The gunshot wound victim?” Viktor asks.
“Yes, she has a gunshot wound. Room 363.”
Viktor instructs somebody on the other end of the phone to go to the hospital. “Tanechka,” he says. “Whatever it takes.”
“She’ll be safe,” Aleksio says. “We’re sending people.”
“Brothers,” I say him.
He grins. “For better or worse.”
“Worse right now,” Viktor says. “Our vehicle is toasted. This one, too. We have to get out of here. We’re vulnerable.”
My mind is beginning to clear. I feel happy. Then I spot movement outside the open van doors—out in the field, behind my brothers.
They turn.
Donny’s face is bloody. He holds a gun. “Lazarus is coming,” he says, swaying. “You’re not going anywhere until he gets here. One step out of this van and I’ll shoot you.”
Lazarus survived? I stiffen, wanting to fly at Donny. Aleksio seems to know it. He presses a hand onto my shoulder, holding me in place.