Goddammit. He’s fading again. I’m not sure how much time he has left.
I shake him, slapping him awake. “Speak.”
His hand barely manages to latch on to mine. “Promise me…”
My eyes narrow. “Promise you what?”
At first, he doesn’t answer. His eyes are still closed. I’m about to check his pulse again when his faint breathing tickles my ears.
His throat bobs, his hold on me tightening. “Promise me you’ll protect my sister.”
The absolute nerve of this man.
Still, I can’t help but wonder…
“Why do I need to protect her, Roman?”
He swallows, eyes blinking several times. “Th-They want s-something.”
“What do they want?”
“Some…thing she h-has.”
I jerk my hand out of his grip and knead my temple. A headache is building, just in time for my thinning patience to take over. “You need to tell me what they want. Otherwise, I can’t promise to protect her.”
It’s obvious that every word hurts, but that doesn’t stop Roman. “Please…. p-promise me.”
“Roman—”
“No.” A burst of energy pulses through him. His eyes become focused for the first time since he started dying in my arms. “They will kill her. Save her.”
I shake my head again.
His hand latches around my arm once more, tightening with a strength he shouldn’t possess at this point. “You have to.”
I don’t answer. Just peer down at the man I once trusted. He is living (okay, dying) proof that you can’t trust anyone but yourself. Secrets and lies always lurk beneath the surface.
“Sasha doesn’t deserve it.”
Sasha.
It’s his first time speaking her name. I roll it in my head, over and over. Who is she? What does she look like? So many questions. Interest shouldn’t be building in me. Neither should the odd urge to seek her out.
Will I help her? To be determined.
“I’m sorry.” Roman’s apology is so soft, I wouldn’t hear it anywhere else. But in the harsh quiet of the vacuous warehouse, it’s as loud as a plane’s roar.
Finally, I look at him. Really look at him. Tongue lolling past his lips, a pool of blood sprawled beneath him, and eyes Bambi-wide, he resembles a mortally wounded Disney cartoon.
Pathetic.
I glance at my men. All of them lined up and ready for my order. Whatever the order will be. I might not trust them with some secrets, but I know they’ll follow me. I pay too well for them not to.
With a nod, they know our time here is ending.
I turn back to Roman. “I’ll find Sasha.”
“Y-you’ll protect her?”