Page 104 of Savage Warrior

It seems to me that for such a skinny kid, Natalija Kovalyova is always hungry. I dig in my pocket for change. “There’s a vending machine on the floor below. Sells sandwiches and chocolate bars. Go and get something you fancy.” I dump a handful of coins in her palm. “We’ll have a coffee if you see anywhere that sells it.”

She stares at the money as though she’s never seen anything like it before. I point out the pound coins. “Put those ones in,” I advise her. “Or ask someone nearby.”

She trots off happily.

“You’d never think she’d just had a near-death experience, would you?” I watch her go. “The resilience of youth…”

Arina is silent. I’m not fooled. There’s something on her mind, and I want to know what.

“Penny for them.” I nudge her with my elbow.

“What? What does that mean?”

“It means, what are you thinking?”

“Oh. I… nothing.”

“Liar. You were miles away.” I take her chin in my hand. “And not in a good way. What are you worrying about?”

“How long have you got?” she replies with a wry smile. “There are enough things to choose from.”

“True. But no one’s died yet. Well, not on our side. Your family is safe, and together. Apart from Yuryl, but he’s okay, isn’t he?”

She nods. “Oh, yes. He loves your island.”

“Not my island, but I’m glad he likes it there.”

She glances up from studying her fingers, laced together in her lap. “I can’t thank you enough, for everything. All the wonderful things you’ve done for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

She shakes her head. “No, don’t just say that. You’ve been… you’ve been my hero. You saved me, saved my family. You don’t even know us. Yet still, you—”

I lay my fingers over her mouth. “Enough. I did what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you everything,” she whispers. “But I don’t understand why you even cared.”

I tip my had to one side. “Really? Have you no idea?”

She flushes under my gaze, chews on her lower lip. She takes her time answering. “You felt guilty, she mutters. “At first, when we met. You were hiding away because you felt guilty about something. You told me that. Did you help me because you wanted to make up for whatever you’d done?”

“No, it wasn’t anything to do with Moses.”

“Moses?” She looks up at me. “Was that who you hurt? Who you’re making up for?”

My mouth twists in a bitter smile. “I didn’t hurt him. I killed him.”

“Maybe you had no choice,” she offers tentatively. “Did he deserve it?”

“I didn’t kill him on purpose. But he died because of me. I couldn’t, didn’t, save him.”

“Did you try?”

“Fuck, yes. I almost died trying, but it wasn’t enough.”

“It was all you had,” she points out simply. “No one can give more.”

“I—” The argument withers on my lips as her wisdom sinks in. I did give all I had. I did try, and I kept on trying until I could go on no longer. No one could have saved Moses. The crash was an accident, we went into the water, and he couldn’t swim. There was nothing I could have done differently that would have changed the outcome.

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