Page 5 of Vendetta Crown

And that he cares enough about Ruslan to help me.

2

RUSLAN

I heardistant and distorted voices around me, like I'm underwater and someone's calling from the shore. A light flickers through my eyelids, harsh and clinical. My body feels like it's weighted with concrete, and every inch of me screaming with muted pain.

The voices grow clearer. And slowly they take shape into the familiar cadence of Russian.

Artyom.

I force my eyes open. The light blinds me momentarily, and I blink hard to clear my vision.

Suddenly, I'm assaulted by a cacophony of sensations. Beeping machines, chattering nurses, and the ever-present smell of antiseptic.

"You're awake." Artyom leans forward in his chair beside my bed, his face drawn tight with exhaustion.

Deep shadows beneath his eyes mark the hours—or has it been days?—that he's been here.

My throat feels like sandpaper. I try to speak but only manage a rasping cough.

"The girls are safe." Artyom places a hand on my arm. "Stella, Sofia, and Mikayla are all waiting outside with six of our best men. We fought off the Triads just in time."

Relief washes through me, momentarily dulling the pain shooting through my chest and shoulder. The girls are safe. Whatever else happened, whatever else is coming, at least I kept that promise.

I try to speak, but can only manage to croak out an indecipherable sound.

"Three bullets. One grazed your shoulder, one went clean through your side, the third," Artyom pauses. "The third missed your heart by centimeters. The doctors say it's a miracle you're alive."

Not a miracle. Just Dragunov stubbornness.

Death knows better than to take me before I'm ready.

I try to sit up, but white-hot pain lances through me. That's when I notice it. A smear of red to Artyom's right. I blink hard, trying to focus through the haze of painkillers.

It's a woman. Red hair. Hunched forward in her chair, hands clasped tight.

Hannah.

My heart monitor betrays me, suddenly beeping faster. If Hannah is here…

"Where's Aurora?" I find my voice again and rip the words from my throat, rough and desperate.

Hannah lifts her head, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. The look on her face makes my blood run cold.

"Kristofer took her." Her voice breaks. "He had a knife to my throat and made her choose. She went with him to save me."

My heart slams against my injured chest. Each beat sends shockwaves of pain through my body, but it's nothing compared to the agony tearing through my mind.

"When?" I demand, trying to push myself up despite the tubes and wires tethering me to the machines.

Artyom places a firm hand on my shoulder. "Ruslan, you need to rest."

"How fucking long has she been gone?" My voice cracks like thunder in the sterile room.

"Hours," Hannah whispers. "It happened hours ago."

I turn to Artyom, feeling panic rise like bile in my throat. "What time is it?"

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