Ican’tstop.
Max doesn’t flinch. I notice that, the way he stands his ground, though I still can’t hear anything. Gunshots are going off all around me, the room filling with smoke. My ears are nothing but painful ringing as I leap onto my father’s back, scratching and clawing and kicking as I try to keep him away from Max.
I feel him slow, twisting and shuddering like a horse trying to dislodge something clinging to it. “Fuck!” he snarls, reaching behind him with the hand not holding his gun to grab at me.
The clawing fingers catch in my hair, yanking and tearing as Obelensky manages to get me loose, throwing me violently to one side. I feel the air leave me in a sickening rush as I hit the concrete–but it doesn’t matter. The distraction was enough.
As if in slow motion, I see Obelensky, my father, reel back as another gunshot fills the air. I see the blood spurt from his throat where the bullet entered, see the pistol in Max’s hand jerk backward as it recoils, see the cold anger on Max’s face as he drenches his hands in more blood than they already bore–and all for me.
Everything in the room seems to grind to a halt for a brief moment as Obelensky crashes to the floor a foot away from me, clutching at his throat as his blood pours out of the wound. I can see the shocked horror, the brief confusion and uncertainty on the faces of the guards, and for the barest of seconds, none of them seem to know what to do without him to give them orders.
And then the room devolves into chaos again.
Max rushes towards me, his gun still clutched in one hand as he reaches for me with the other. I’m still dizzy from the fall, trying to suck breath into my airless lungs, but he manages to get me onto my feet. I stare at him in numb shock, my arm sliding around his waist more out of instinct than anything else. I’m still unable to believe that what I’m seeing is real, that this isn’t all just some fever dream or horrifying purgatory, even as Max half-leads, half-hauls me towards the doorway at the far end of the room as the fighting continues around us.
He ducks, covering me as more gunshots ring out, and I see Levin’s mouth move as he shouts something at Max that I can’t hear. I’m not even sure if Max can. I see Natasha’s wild gaze land on me, something like relief on her face before she turns abruptly and fires at a guard coming at her from the left.
The room is full of smoke and the smell of burnt gunpowder, my ears buzzing and ringing, blood spattered everywhere on the concrete between the fallen bodies. I can feel the terror of what happened at Alexei’s creeping back into my bones, the memory of the gunshots and shouts, the fear that when someone came up the stairs for me, it would be someone I didn’t want to see.
But instead, it was Max. It was him then, and it’s him now–against all the odds.
I don’t know how it’s possible. Still, I cling to him as he rushes with me towards what I can only assume is the path out, doing everything I can to stay on my feet as we burst out into the hallway.
Vaguely, I think I hear footsteps behind me, but I don’t know whose they are. I’m braced for the pain of a gunshot at any moment, for one of Obelensky’s guards to shoot us in the back as we flee. Every muscle in my body is wound tight, waiting for the moment that my once again-delayed death comes for me.
It feels impossible to believe that this could be real, that Max is alive, and that I’ve escaped what felt like an inevitable fate once again. I’m not just waiting for the punch of a bullet in my spine, but the unavoidable fading of all of this, the passage from whatever dying fantasy this is into the true oblivion that must be waiting for me.
I feel half in and out of consciousness as Max rushes up a flight of stairs with me, my feet dragging and tangling as he tries to help me up. I hear him grunt, turning towards me, and I catch a glimpse of his handsome face as he reaches for me, lifting me into his arms as he starts to race up the stairs again.
Itfeelsreal. His chest feels solid and warm, his arms strong and safe around me. I can smell his lemon-and-salt scent, the warm musk of his skin, and I instinctively curl into him, wanting more of all of it. I want more of his warmth, more of his safety, more ofhim.
More of Max, as I always have.
We burst out into the cool night air, and I see a black car waiting there. I instinctively twist in Max’s arms, the memories of other cars like it rushing back. Combined with the events of moments before, it sends me into a panic, remembering the one waiting for me before I was taken from Moscow to New York, the car waiting for me on the tarmac days ago. He holds me tighter, his hand pressed against my hair, and through the fading ringing in my ears, I hear his voice–the voice I thought I’d never hear again.
“It’s alright, Sasha. You’re safe. We’re getting you out of here.”
There are footsteps behind us as Max throws the door open, and I tense, twisting to see as he lowers me to help me into the car. I’m certain that it’s the guards finally catching up to us, cold fear lancing through me, but as I catch a glimpse over Max’s shoulder, I see Levin and Natalia bursting out of the building, breathless with their weapons still in hand.
“Get in!” I think I hear Levin shout, and I’m shocked to see Natalia fling herself into the passenger’s seat as Max clambers in next to me, Levin firing up the engine before he’s even entirely in the car.
It hits me then, as the tires spin and squeal, that this isreal.
I’ve been rescued.
Max is alive.
All of my worst fears have been stripped away in an instant, replaced with possibilities that overwhelm my terrified mind.
I look up at Max, leaning over me with a face laced with concern, and pass out.
19
SASHA
When I wake, I’m on a bed. Arealbed–soft mattress, clean sheets, downy pillows, and all. For a moment, I’m thoroughly convinced that I’ve died after all and somehow made it to heaven. After the time I spent sleeping on that cot, I think I might never get out of a real bed again.
As my eyes open, I see Max, and then I’m more sure than ever that this might be the afterlife.