Page 32 of Mikhail Petrov

“Are you hurt?” Mikhail’s voice is strained, eyes wild, as he scans me from head to toe. “No.”

The bartender is still twitching and attached to the branch when Mikhail tosses him to the side and lunges for me.

“Look at me. Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

“No, but we have to get out of here. There’s more of them.”

“Chasing you?”

“Yeah,” I say as he tugs me to my feet and cradles my chin. “You think I’m going to let that slide? No one threatens what’s mine.”

He snatches the shotgun from Anderson, who’s finally dead, and turns his back to me, headed toward the tavern. “Leah, get back to the resort.”

“Fuck that! You either come with me or we do this together. It’s your choice, because I’m not leaving.”

He drags in a flustered breath. I know the instinct to protect those he cares for is pulling him to those men. But eight against two are not good odds. And I’m banking on the fact that he cares more about my well-being than getting revenge—at least for now.

“Mikhail?”

With a strong swing of his arm, the shotgun whirls into the air and sinks into a mound of snow. Before I can question him, he grabs my hand, and we make a run toward my snowmobile.

“Hold on tight,” he says as the vehicle roars to life, and we plunge into the dark forest.

CHAPTER 15

LEAH

I’m not sure how close we are to the cabins or how far from that hell hole back there, but I need a moment. My head is spinning with so many what-ifs.

“Stop. Stop, please, stop,” I beg, frantically tapping on his thigh.

The snowmobile decelerates, and I don’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop before I climb off and find a tree to lean on. Nausea churns my stomach, and I hang my head, hoping to vomit. That’s when I see the splatters of blood staining my pants and boots, and I want to crawl out of my skin. I know it’s freezing. My exposed arms are cold to the touch, but I’m too high on adrenaline to feel a damn thing.

“I have to get this off!”

As I shove the snowsuit down my hips, Mikhail touches my arm, and I freeze. “Hey, let me help you.”

Silence passes between us before either one moves or says anything.

“Okay,” I finally reply, and he wastes no time dropping to his knees to undo my boots. Another stretch of silence, and I know what he’s doing. He’s gathering his thoughts, trying to string together the right words so that he doesn’t come off like an asshole. But I know he’s upset. What I did wasn’t smart.

I step on the suit and use it as a barrier against the snow as Mikhail strips off his coat and drapes it over my shoulders, surprising me when he grabs one of my arms and shoves it into the massive sleeve, then the other. Our eyes connect, and the moment he takes a breath and rakes his hands against the sides of his head, I know he’s ready to unleash hell.

“Why did you run off like that? That man could have... What if I hadn’t gotten there when I did?”

“I know, I know. It was stupid, but how was I supposed to know I walked into a wolf’s den? I just wanted a drink.”

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head with indignation. “A goddamn drink?”

“I don’t need this right now.”

Mikhail grabs my shoulders, hands shaking. “Do you know what that would have done to me? If something would have happened to you.” The fucking audacity.

“You don’t get to do this.”

“The hell I don’t!”

I shove him back and sacrifice my socks to snow as I trudge past him. “After tomorrow, we go our separate ways, and I go back to living my life, Mikhail. I go to bars at night. I take walks. I fucking live, okay? Without you.” I throw his coat at him and immediately regret it as the cold sears through my skin, down to the bones. But I can’t let him know that. “You don’t get to worry about me because you’ve made it painfully clear that I’m not at the top of your list of priorities.” My voice cracks. “That I’m not worth fighting for.”

---