The man had come too close as he’d stalked toward me and my empty clicks. He’d come within the reach of Kirill’s long legs.
I could see where Kirill had kicked his legs out from under him and they had wrestled. Red was splashed around the floor like ketchup smeared messily on a plate. It looked like it had been a short fight. Kirill was braced on one arm over the man, the gun lay a few feet away, and Kirill had a knife pressed against the man’s neck.
I couldfeelhis strength baring down on that point. I couldseehis will to drive the metal home, straight through the trachea of the man who had attacked us and into the tile below. The man was holding him off, but only just. After a second, his strength failed, and the sound of a blade cutting through cartilage filled the air as Kirill rammed the knife home. Then slumped to the side.
“Holy shit,” I chanted as I stepped over the pools of blood and stopped beside his head. Crouching, my heart dropped to see his face, paler than ever. His white shirt was soaked dark red. “Kirill?” I breathed, scared he wouldn’t answer.
He opened his eyes, and I could have cried. “Get outside and go to the nearest police precinct. Ask for Detective Lewin and say my name. He’ll take care of you,” Kirill said with an urgency that made my heart pound. “There might be more of them. I don’t know what happened out there, or if any Chernov men are left standing. You need to go. Now.”
“What about you? You’re bleeding.” I was stating the obvious, considering the pool of blood spreading in a circle around him.
I opened his shirt and flinched at the blood. There was a wound oozing to the side of his clavicle. A shoulder shot? A punctured lung? Fuck, I didn’t know. Wading up his torn shirt, I pressed it on the wound.
“I don’t give a fuck about me. I need you to listen. Go now, flag down a cab or something, or go into the shops next door and get them to call the cops. Go now, Molly.”
“If I don’t call an ambulance for you—if I take the pressure off—you’ll die,” I whispered, trying not to lose my head and start screaming.
“Better me than you, Princess. Go now,” he urged, and pushed me away.
I pushed to my feet, slipping in the blood on the floor. His blood. Kirill rested his head against the wall and watched me.This was it. Decision time. I knew it down to my bones. I could leave here and let this man bleed out. I could walk free, and he wouldn’t be around to follow me. I could make him pay for knocking me up and trying to control my freedom, all of it. He would pay, and I’d be free.
But . . . I’d also be alone. Did I want to live in a world where Kirill was dead? Did I want to live without him?
No. Not now, not ever.
A fresh flood of tears dripped down my cheeks.
“What are you waiting for, Mallory?” Kirill asked. The man hated to be powerless. “You want to watch me die? You hate me that much?” His tone was quieter now, heartbroken, I’d say, on anyone else. On Kirill, it was jaded and resigned as if he’d expected as much.
“I don’t hate you. I lied. I don’t hate anyone,” I said quietly.
He chuckled, and the sound turned into a wheeze. “That’s the difference between us, Princess. I hate everyone.” His eyes flicked up to mine. “Except you.”
I reached picked up his shirt and moved closer to press it against his shoulder.“I have to slow the bleeding,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes only inches away from my face.
“No, you have to run. Save yourself,” he said, trying to push me away again, but for once, his iron-strong arms were weak.
“No!” I pushed back, and then gasped as he grunted in pain. “I’m not leaving you. This time, I’m waiting,” I whispered softly.
Kirill’s eyes, which had been drifting closed, snapped open. “What?”
I took a deep breath, knowing I was crossing a line I could never uncross. This was a surrender I couldn’t change my mind about. If I stayed, I would marry this man and have his children. I’d live with him until the end of my days, whether that was a week or fifty years from now. I’d grow old with him, if I had a chance, and watch our children grow and go out into the world. They wouldn’t be anything like us. I wouldn’t let them be.
“I said I’m not going anywhere. I’m waiting for you. So you better not die.”
Kirill’s eyes fastened on me, and they looked lighter than ever. For once, I could see the green and gold flecks in the brown. I had the sudden striking insight that I had done that. I had turned a light on inside Kirill. I put my free hand around his and laced our fingers together.
“I’m waiting, Kirill. Don’t make me wait too long,” I urged him softly as he lost the battle to keep his eyes open.
“Mallory!” A shout sounded from down the hall and relief filled me, overflowing my aching heart.
“Max! We need a doctor. Kirill was shot,” I cried out, scrambling upward as Max turned the corner and headed toward us at a sprint with other Chernov men.
“It’s on its way,” Max reassured me as he drew close. He was a mess. His eye was swelling and turning black, and his jaw was wreathed in bruises.
The sobs I’d been holding back suddenly erupted, and Max caught me as my ebbing strength failed me.
17