Page 7 of Vendetta Crown

The world swims before my eyes. I try to focus on Hannah's face through the fog of medication. Her words pierce the veil of my despair like rays of sunlight.

"She escaped him once before, Ruslan. When she was just a scared nineteen-year-old girl." Hannah's voice cracks with emotion but gains strength as she continues. "She crossed the entire country alone, built a new life from nothing. She survived seven years without anyone's help."

I latch onto these words like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. Maybe Hannah's right. Maybe myzarechkais stronger than I've given her credit for. She's survived so much already.

But what if…

"Do you really believe that?" I rasp, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.

Hannah meets my gaze unflinchingly, her expression fierce despite her tear-stained cheeks.

"It's the only thing I can believe," she whispers. "Because the alternative is too awful to imagine."

The truth of her confession sends fresh tears burning behind my eyes as the drugs drag me deeper into my hospital bed.

I feel the darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision. The medication is dragging me under, but I fight it like a drowning man struggling against the tide.

"You're right," I admit, my voice barely audible over the machines monitoring my broken body. "Both of you."

The admission tastes bitter on my tongue, but the truth often does. I turn my heavy head toward Artyom, summoning what's left of my strength.

"Contact Gregor. Tell him I'm alive." Each word is a battle against the sedative's pull. "Tell him Semyon moved against me... that the Triads were involved. That this is war."

Artyom nods, his face grim in the harsh hospital light. "I'll handle it, my pakhan."

I try to nod but my head feels impossibly heavy. I reach out, grasping Artyom's wrist with what little strength I have left.

"Artyom, before you go..." The words slur together as I fight to stay conscious. "Bring my nieces in. Let me see them."

"Are you sure?" Artyom asks, concern etched across his features. "The doctors?—"

"Please," I whisper. "I need to see them. I need to know that they're alright."

Artyom squeezes my hand once before leaving the room. The minutes stretch like hours as I drift in and out of consciousness, clinging to the thought of my nieces, of Aurora.

Finally, the door opens. Three small figures enter, flanked by Artyom and two guards.

My heart aches at the sight of them.

Stella's face is streaked with tears, her small shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Sofia stands beside her, trying to look brave but her trembling bottom lip betrays her.

And Mikayla...

My oldest niece looks like she's aged years in a single day, her serious eyes hollow with a haunted look of a child forced to grow old in the face of endless deaths.

"Uncle Ruslan," Mikayla whispers, her voice breaking.

I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. "Hey, princesses. Don't look so worried. I'm okay."

Stella breaks first, rushing to my bedside with a strangled cry and seeking out the comfort of my hand. Sofia follows close behind. I pull them close despite the pain that shoots through my chest, and feel my heart rending as the sensation of their tears falling onto my skin.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'm okay," I murmur. "I'm right here."

Hannah rises from her chair, exhaustion evident in every movement. "I'll give you some time with your nieces."

Her eyes search mine, and I see the same fear that's eating me alive reflected back in them.

"Hannah," I call after her as she turns to leave. The medication makes my voice sound distant even to my own ears. "When they let me out of here, I'm going to find Aurora. No matter what it takes."

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