Page 75 of Heirs of Havoc

His eyes drop. “Then what happened to your hand?”

I follow his gaze, my hand, blue and bruised. It must be the adrenaline that I didn't notice before. But now that he’s mentioned it, the pain comes spiralling back. When he reaches for it, I hiss an aching pain rushing through me. “Is it broken?” My hand shakes in his when I realize how swollen it is. “And you’re bleeding.” His eyes move to a scratch down my leg. The open cut from McQueen's house.

Before I can answer, he scoops me up in his arms again. But this time, he’s careful, making sure my head rests against his warm chest. He moves toward the living room. Brass and glass coffee tables complement the black marble floors that spill into the space. More surrealist paintings line the walls in gold frames with an abstract metal chandelier hanging from above.

A cry escapes me when Vlad settles my body on the large blue velvet sofa, big enough for all my problems. “Shit, sorry.” He rests my hand on my knee, watching my reaction before he turns around. I’m in so much pain I hardly register yet another apology from one of Dom’s men. “Wait here.”

“No, wait." Turning towards the living room entrance, Vlad stalls at the bottom of the steps. “What about you? Are you hurt?” I ask, the all-out bombardment in the church still in my mind. Glancing back at the wall, I listen for gunshots. Or yelling. Screaming. Anything. Vlad shakes his head. “Aren’t you worried?”

His large shoulders drop. “To be honest, Mia, the only thing I cared about was you.” My stomach clenches as he disappears up the stairs and I’m left in the living room to think about what he means.

Me?

These men wanted to ruin me. Now they're protecting me. Problem is, I still can't figure out why.

Vlad comes back with what looks like a toolbox, a large metal case hanging from his hand. He looks like some kind of Mr. Fix-It. A hot Mr. Fix-it. I wince, pushing on the hand that’s getting more swollen and blue by the second. “Careful, Merlo.” He kneels at the side of the sofa, unlocking the toolbox. After putting on a pair of blue gloves, he reaches for a long syringe, loading it up with clear liquid.

“Wh-what’re you gonna do with that?” The flask the twins gave me flashes in my mind.

“If you want me to fix your hand raw, then you’re as fucked up as I thought.” He hands me a bottle of vodka before he holds out a hand, knowing all too well that’s far from what I want. After taking a long swig, I place my hand in his. For a second, the pain dissipates, his warmth tingling my skin instead.

“You’re actually gonna fix it?” As I grimace, his fingers tap along my hand. Without answering, he sticks the needle in. "Vlad!"

“So dramatic,” he chuckles. And he's right, the needle doesn't actually hurt. “It’s only an anaesthetic. You won’t feel a thing. Think you can be a good girl and sit still?” That tightness in my stomach reappears, nodding. “You’re tough. You can handle it.”

“Where did you learn this?” Taking another swig helps to stop the contents inside me from swirling. It also helps to ignore the swelling in my hand.

“I’ve fought in mixed martial arts for years. Underground. Bratva shit.” Vlad speaks in low mutters and if I don’t listen, there’s a chance I’ll miss what he says. But his deep rolling voice adds comfort to this process. “It’s not my first time fixing a broken bone. Lucky for you…” Something pops, my eyes widening. But like he said, I don’t feel a thing. “It’s just a fracture.” He directs me to make a fist, but it’s still hard, even with the pain gone. “Maybe I’ll take you fighting with me one day. Teach you some moves beyond that pole so next time shit like that happens, you’ll be ready. And, chances are, there will be another time."

“What, my dance moves aren’t enough, Reznikov?” Vodka fuels my words.

“They’re enough to tease the hell out of the guys if that’s what you’re after,” Vlad chuckles. “And me.” His blues glance at my browns, except it’s more than a glance. A gaze that triggers that swirl in my stomach again.

Another swig. “Is that why Dom keeps you around?” I watch as he feels around my hand, gentle for someone with such brute force. “Doctor Vlad?”

A smirk comes to his face before it disappears. “Dom comes through when it matters.” He takes my wrist. “You’re gonna want to keep those eyes on me.”

I do, and I’m immediately lost in them, those dark blues showing the first hint of care I’ve seen in forever. “Does he come through for you? And Lev?” I know how ruthless Dominik Federov is. How unforgiving. How menacing. “Or does he use you?”

Vlad chuckles. “When Lev and I fuck up, which we do, a lot, Dom’s there.”

“Is he though?” My head falls to the side, vodka warming my insides.

POP!

Something in my hand snaps into place before Vlad gestures for me to make a fist. This time, I’m able to.

He nods, reaching back into the toolbox for a long string of gauze. “My brother and I tried climbing our family tree many times. And one time, we took things a little too far. We lost my grandfather’s stash.” He wraps the gauze around my wrist, reminding me of how he tied me that night. Why are my thighs tightening thinking about it? “My mom thinks we’re useless, but if my grandfather found out? Let’s say blood isn’t thicker than water.” He continues wrapping my hand with care. “Dom helped us get everything back and while it wasn’t fun, we appreciated it. So he's not using us. He's a brother to us."

Taking another sip of vodka, Vlad’s words settle. “Wish I had that kind of camaraderie in my family. We just… use each other. By we, I mean my father, and by each other, I mean everyone else.”

Vlad chuckles, “I know all about that, but these guys are family. A fucked up found family, but a family, regardless.”

“Have you guys ever fallen out? You and Dom?”

A deep hum leaves him as he gets to the end of the gauze. “When we met you ...” He stalls, his eyes meeting mine. It’s quieter than ever here, but my heartbeat resounds in my head. “You’re all done.” Rising from his crouch, he packs up his toolkit.

“Oh, don’t be a wuss, Reznikov,” I chide, the vodka doing its job. “Finish that thought.”

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