“I’m going,” I repeat, still doing my best to hold the expression on my face. “I’m not leaving Sasha’s fate to anyone else, no matter how much I trust them. Not when I’ve already failed her once.”
Giana glances at Levin, who shrugs. “I’m only the messenger,” he says, turning the smirk on her, clearly enjoying the blush that spreads over her slightly wrinkled face. “And the muscle.” Hewinksat her, and I watch in amazement as Giana, the woman I’ve known as a second mother for my entire life, happily married for all of it, looks at Levin Volkov like a schoolgirl.
I clear my throat, and she snaps her attention back to me. “Oh, get that look off of your face.” Giana waves a hand at me. “You look like you have heartburn. Fine. You’re going. Tommas will be pleased to be able to say he’s right.”
“About what?”
“That I wouldn’t be able to keep you here long enough for you to heal properly.” Gianatsks, shaking her head. “I’ll get you a bag. You’ll need changes of clothes. Nothing here fits you properly, but I’ll find what I can.”
“I brought some extras from his house,” Levin says. “The duffel is in my car. No need to put yourself out,babushka.”
Giana wrinkles her nose, clearly caught between appreciating his respectfulness and being horrified at being referred to as a grandmother–a title that I know she’s always appreciated. “That’s very kind of you,” she says finally. “You’re a good boy.”
Levin grins, laughter crinkling his eyes. “It’s nice to be made to feel young again.”
“Oh, you don’t know what it is to be old yet.” She waves a hand at him and then glances back at us. “Say goodbye before you leave, Maximilian?”
“Of course.” I look at her, surprised. “You saved my life. I wouldn’t dare leave without that.”
It doesn’t take long to get ready to go. I have nothing of my own here except the rosary. I wash up quickly, changing clothes into a pair of the baggy sweatpants and a clean shirt that Giana left for me, shoving my feet into shoes that are luckily my size. Levin is waiting for me when I emerge into the main room of the cabin, cheerfully carrying on a conversation with Giana and Tommas.
I haven’t been out of the bedroom since I first woke up here, and seeing the cabin for the first time is a surprise. It’s small and cozy, homey in a way that I would expect from Giana, and I find myself wishing I could stay longer.
This is the kind of place I would have liked to have one day, the kind of home I’d have liked to bring Sasha to. Not a grand estate that felt cold and forbidding, or the sterile guest house on Viktor’s property, as much as I appreciated his hospitality. A place like this, warm and comfortable, a place that feels like the embrace of safe arms.
I wanted to be that for Sasha–her safety. Her comfort. I’d failed at that.
I won’t let that happen again.
“Be careful,tesoro,” Giana says, wrapping her arms gently around me, careful of my wound. “This will be dangerous. Come back safe.”
It’s hard to promise her something that I know could turn out to be a lie, but I don’t want to leave her with anything other than hope. “I will,” I tell her firmly. “With Sasha. Both of us, safe and sound.”
I shake Tommas’ hand, thanking him for his help, and follow Levin out to the car.
We drive in silence to the airport. There’s a fueled plane waiting for us on the tarmac. “Courtesy of Viktor,” Levin says, nodding towards it as he hands me the packed duffel. “He’s done what he can.”
“It’s more than I dared to hope for, honestly.” I glance at him. “I appreciate this. I know you don’t–like to go back.”
“No,” Levin agrees. “But I do what needs to be done. We both will.”
It feels almost wrong, to travel in this kind of comfort when Sasha is God knows where. I sink into the leather seat, wincing a little, and Levin glances at me with concern.
“Is the wound going to be an issue?”
“We’ll find out, I guess.” I shrug, attempting to downplay it. It burns like hell, but I don’t want Levin to see me as a liability in this.
“Let me see.” Levin nods at my abdomen, and I frown, tugging up the hem of my shirt and pulling away the bandages enough so that he can see the healing wound.
Levin makes a face. “It’s not the worst I’ve seen.”
“But not the best.”
“It wasn’t a doctor that sewed that up.” Levin leans back in his seat. “It won’t heal well.”
“I’m aware.” I let out a sigh, mirroring his action. “Tommas had to dig the bullet out and stitch me up. If he’d waited for the doctor, I might not have made it.”
“Better the scar, then.” Levin shrugs. “They’re not so bad. The ladies love them.” He grins. “Maybe Sasha will like yours.”