Page 58 of Ruthless King
“Mouse,” Mischa growls, his eyes cutting toward me. Before I can move, he crooks a finger, beckoning me closer. “Come.”
The bodyguard clears his throat. “I will leave you two, sir—”
“Don’t,” Mischa says, letting his hand fall. “You talk. She deserves to hear this.”
“I’d rather be sure, sir,” Evgeni insists, displaying a rare hesitation. “My men will not stop until you have your answers.”
“Answers,” Mischa says with a scoff. He meets my gaze, his eyes so bloodshot that at a glance, they seem scarlet. Ablaze.
But I know him—if his wife or son were dead, he would be nowhere near this composed.
“They are alive,” he says as if reading my mind.
An overwhelming wave of relief nearly brings me to my knees. Evgeni approaches me, grabbing my arm to steady me. As he guides me to a chair, Mischa continues. “I won’t spare you the truth,” he says hoarsely. “Not this time. Eli was badly hurt. He’ll live, but they don’t know yet what the long-term damage might be. His arm was shattered…” He groans, rubbing at his temples. After a second’s pause, he says, “He’s conscious at least. Anna is there with him. Your mother isn’t so lucky. She is alive, but they had to take the baby early. Both survived the surgery, but for her own good, they had to keep Ellen sedated. She lost a lot of blood.”
Despair clenches my lungs in a fist, but dread builds the longer I meet his gaze. He’s telling me this for a reason, warning me to steel myself.
Because as painful as this is to hear, it’s not the worst of it.
Not by far.
“They were attacked,” he says. “And I could lie to you. Hide this from you. But I won’t.”
He slams his fist onto the table, knocking a pile of documents to the floor. As his eyes cut back up to mine, they burn fiercely, in a way I’ve never seen them. At least not in years.
Not since the day he acquired me as little more than a fearsome stranger.
“Tell her,” he barks to Evgeni. “Tell her what you’ve found.”
The bodyguard stiffens, his jaw clenched. “Sir—”
“Fine. I will tell her. They were attacked by Donatello Vanici’s men,” Mischa says. “And I love you, but this time… I won’t show mercy.”
He stands, pushing past his desk. My mind goes blank as my body reacts on sheer instinct. I scramble to my feet, reaching for his hand.
Turmoil rips through my thoughts, displacing any sense of logic.
All I can see is Eli and Ellen, covered in blood.
I see Donatello, the man who left me for dead.
And now I see Mischa, shrugging me off so violently I trip and land on my knees. Watching him go, I can’t reconcile the fear constricting my chest, crushing the air from my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t move.
All I can do is try to scream.
21
DON
It’s a good fucking day. Despite the rain pouring down and the fact that Vin is glaring at me from the top of the hallway steps, I’m determined to make it so.
“A good damn day,” I say out loud, slamming my hand against the banister for emphasis. We’ve already packed our things, and between the two of us, the villa’s foyer is a maze of suitcases. Admittedly most are mine rather than Vin’s; his consist of just a few bags though the heaviest of the bunch. The boy likes his books.
“Good for who?” Vin grumbles. Shouldering a duffle, he descends the staircase to meet me. Without a fancy party to attend, he’s exchanged the suit for a sweater and jeans. From behind his glasses, he looks every bit the doctor in training—one who is scowling at the fact that, while dressing half-asleep, I managed to put on the same pants from said fancy party, speckled with my own blood.
