I’d known, in that singular moment, with horrifying clarity, the depth of the mistake I had made. Because even then, as the blood drained out of me next to the other woman I had chosen, Sasha still loved me. She still begged me to stay. She didn’t care what I’d told her, because she knew me well enough to know that it was all lies, all a means to protect her, when all along, I should have been letting her tell me how she wanted to be protected.
I’d figured it out too late, and that hurt more than the bullet in my gut, more than the death wrapping its tendrils around me to claim me and drag me down.
Worse still, I hadn’t been able to say a word about it.
Please. The last thing you ever say to me can’t be goodbye. Please. Please, Max, please–
I’d wanted to say a hundred things to her, a thousand, but one thing most of all.
I love you, Sasha.
But I couldn’t make a sound. I tried to touch her, but it hurt too much to move, my limbs too weak. And then, as hands had dragged her away from me, it felt as if I’d lost the last thing holding me to this earth. With her touch, her warmth gone, I felt nothing but cold.
I’d failed before, over and over. Myself, my family, my God. But nothing could compare to dying there, knowing I’d failed the woman I loved.
Knowing that I would never know what happened to her. Knowing there was nothing I could do.
I fought against the darkness, but it took me anyway. And the very last thing I saw was her face.
—
I hadn’t expected to wake up. I hadn’t known if there would be heaven, hell, or purgatory for me–or maybe even nothing at all, if I and everyone around me had been wrong about all of it–but my last thoughts hadn’t been ones of hope. When my eyes open, my hands lying against cool sheets, I’m not entirely convinced that it’s not some kind of trick of the afterlife.
The pain is still there, bright and brilliant in my veins.If I were dead, would I still be able to feel pain?It seems unfair, but if this is purgatory, or worse yet, hell–well, then the pain might be a part of it.
It’s hard to open my eyes all the way, at first. The room is dim, sunlight weaving its way through a crack in the curtains, and the air is pleasantly cool. Other than the pain, nothing about my circumstances feels unpleasant, exactly. When I manage to pry my sticky eyes all the way open, wincing at the soreness in my head, I realize that I’m in a room I don’t recognize.
It’s small and cozy, in a grandmotherly sort of way. There’s blue floral wallpaper and crisp white wainscoting, framed pictures of cross-stitch and watercolors, and a soft-looking armchair with a knitted throw blanket tossed over the back of it.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where Sasha is.I have no memories of after other than that last look at her face, terrified and shrieking, as she was dragged away from me. I’d passed out then, if I’m not in fact dead, and I have no idea what happened next.
An attempt to push myself upright leaves me airless and gasping, all the breath sucked out of my body at the intensity of the pain. It’s centered in my belly, and as I wake up fully, I realize that I’m shirtless, except for a pressure across my stomach.
Reaching up gingerly, I touch my side and feel the slick cover of bandages.Someone got me out of there,I realize dimly.Someone patched me up.But who? Where am I? And where is Sasha?
I might have dozed off for a while before the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the door rouses me again, and I hear the sound of the knob turning. I stiffen, trying to think of some means of defense if someone comes through that door with the intent to hurt me, but a moment later, it swings open, and to my shock, I see Giana step into the room.
“What?” I croak, staring at her, and she gives me a faint, thin-lipped smile.
“It’s a long story,” she says softly. “I’m glad to see you’re awake,tesoro. We weren’t sure if you would make it, for a little while there. That same doctor who tended to Sasha came to see you, although he wanted quite a price for it, after hearing what happened at the estate.”
“What did happen, after–” I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry and rough as sandpaper.
“Shh. Don’t talk too much.” Giana walks towards me, a paper cup in her hand. She slides one surprisingly strong hand behind my head, helping lift me up a little as she shakes a few ice chips onto my tongue with her other hand holding the cup. “You’ve been out for a few days now. We’ve tried to keep you hydrated and follow the doctor’s instructions, but it’s been difficult. We’re–”
“Where are we?”
“Tommas and I have a vacation cabin, some miles away from the estate. One in his family’s name.” Giana lets out a soft sigh. “We couldn’t go back to our own home. They would have expected it, come looking for us–and you. This was the best shot we had. Some of the security that worked for the estate–not the ones that Casciani man helped you contract–came with us. They’ve been guarding the outside.”
“Where’s Sasha?” I have plenty more questions, but I can’t think of anything I want to know more than that. “Where is she?”
Giana presses her lips together. “I don’t know,tesoro. We haven’t been able to find out. She was gone before we could see who took her, who was behind it–and if it was Edo Casciani–”
I don’t need her to finish the sentence. If it was Edo Casciani, then there’s nothing Giana or Tommas could have done. It’s entirely possible, too, that itwas. By throwing herself on my body like that, Sasha made it very plain to anyone bothering to notice that I meant something to her–and her to me. If Edo had wanted to extend his vengeance past my own grave, he might have taken Sasha.
Especially if he put two and two together and figured out that Sasha is the woman I was trying to protect and that the Russians want her. There’s a deal for him to make there, and I don’t doubt that he would take steps to make it.Especiallyknowing that it would be in direct opposition to what I was trying to do.
“I’m sorry,” Giana says quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I know what she meant to you,tesoro.”