55
IVAN
“Again.”
With a sigh, Dr. Popov repeats himself for the third time. “The blood test showed signs of a common sedative. She received a high dosage, but it will wear off in a few hours. She will be fine.”
“How did it get in her system?” Yasha growls. He sounds almost as angry as I am.
It was his job to make sure the bakery was secure. It was his job to watch the two of us, make sure nothing happened. This is as much a violation to him as it is to me.
“I was watching them both the entire fucking time.” He looks to me, pleading with me to believe him. “When our phone call dropped and I lost service, I saw someone in all black running down the street. I followed them. I—I thought it was the right call.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder. “It was a distraction. You made the right call with the information you had.”
Dr. Popov clears his throat. “As far as the sedative, it could have been in something she drank. Something she ate.”
“She didn’t touch the cake. Well, just one bite.” My stomach tightens, remembering her mouth wrapped around my finger.
Yasha curses under his breath. “The water. She had a water bottle. I made sure the cakes were clean, but I didn’t—The water bottles were sealed. I didn’t think they would be an issue. Fuck.” He rakes a furious hand through his hair. “It must mean they were planning to move her to a secondary location. The only reason they tried to shoot her instead was because—”
“I interrupted.”
My stomach twists at the thought that Cora could be in enemy hands right now. I look down at her on the couch, still asleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, even movements. The fact that this is the best possible outcome is un-fucking-acceptable.
“Next time, we do better.” I look at Yasha, my eyes boring into his.
He shakes his head. “There is no next time. This won’t happen again.”
Dr. Popov picks up his black bag and holds out his liver-spotted hand for a shake. “If there is a next time, you call me. You know I’m always here for your family, Ivan. Whatever you need.”
I thank the man and have Yasha escort him out to his car.
Then I’m alone with Cora.
Alone with her for the first time since I found her in that bathroom. The dread that swirled in me then makes a sudden reappearance.
Before I can stop myself, I bend low and scoop her into my arms. I haul her against my chest and hold her so I can feel every breath. So I can feel the warmth of her skin and hear her every exhale.
She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive.
I barely glance at her bedroom door as I pass by it, walking towards mine instead.
I need her in my bed. In my room. Where I can see her and watch over her.
My room is dark as I lay her on the mattress. Her head tilts gently to the side, her cheek cushioned against my pillow.
She looks peaceful. At home.
I shove the thought down and take in the rest of her. The blood splatter dotting her clothes. The dirt from the alley staining her pale dress.
I dig through a drawer for a large t-shirt and get to work peeling her gently out of her clothes.
She’s gorgeous—beyond gorgeous. But there is nothing exciting about what I’m doing now. About seeing her helpless and unconscious. Unresponsive to my touch.
I can’t sit down. I can’t stop moving. So long as I keep moving, everything will be okay. If I stay busy, she will wake up and this will all be…
Pretend.
The gnawing ache in my chest doesn’t feel pretend, though. The yearning I have to burn the world down just to see her open her eyes isn’t casual or temporary or fake.
The way she looks in my t-shirt, between my sheets…
It’s not something I’ll forget anytime soon.
I stand next to the bed, watching her breathe until the door opens and Anya bursts in.
“Is she okay?” Her eyes are wide, frantic. She sees Cora asleep in bed and freezes in horror. “Oh God. How long has she been like this?”
I have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been minutes or hours.
She drops down by Cora’s bedside and cups her hands, and all I can think is, Cora fits in here.
Cora fits. With me. With my family. In our world.
She fits, but that doesn’t mean she’s right. Not for this role. Not for this life. Not when she could be attacked or drugged or killed just for the crime of standing next to me.
I’ve seen that fire inside of her dim before. I know what the world feels like without it.
I won’t let it happen again.
“Stay here.” I turn to the door, pausing with my fingers on the handle. “Don’t leave her alone. Stay here until I get back.”
Anya nods. “I’ll stay. But where are you going?”
“To do what I should have done from the beginning.”