Page 124 of Deadly Knight
“Deal,” she says.
“I take it you will not be leaving my country anytime soon, like you promised?”
Vanessa makes a grunting noise, not verbally saying the words, and the man on the other end sighs, like it’s the worst thing in the world to hear. “You realize this could be considered an act of war.”
“You’d lose if you attempted, and you know it. Complications are preventing us from leaving, but we will as soon as we’re able to.”
He sighs again. “I’ll call a doctor we keep on retainer. Get away from the public eye and text me the address. I’ll send them your way.”
Click.
“My apartment,” I call up. “Or his, since there might be more room for all of us.”
“I’d rather not let the Corsettis in on where you live. Or him, considering a Bratva member has been living for the past decade right beneath his nose, and it won’t go over well if they realize.” Dimitri lets out a well-timed groan that grabs Vanessa’sattention. “Fine,” she agrees, starting up the vehicle. “Guess we don’t have many options.”
She takes us along roads I’ve never travelled, but the path between here and home feels endless. Especially since every few minutes, he attempts to squeeze my hand. In truth, I have no idea how he kept going this whole time. Pure will, I suppose, and now that he’s back with us, he feels safe enough to let himself go.
“We’re almost there,” I whisper to him, causing Anastasia to glance back.
When Vanessa finally pulls up to my apartment, I direct her to the other side. “There’s a side entrance leading right to the stairwell. We’ll have to carry him up a few flights, but it’s less conspicuous than the front entrance, which everyone uses.”
Vanessa acknowledges my words with a nod and parks the SUV around the corner. She and the others get out first before moving the seats forward to pull Dimitri out, who remains awake, but barely. He groans as the guys manage to maneuver him out of the vehicle, and I quickly cut in front of them to input the door code and open it.
Vanessa leads the way, and the soldiers with Dimitri follow, though much slower. Every few steps, Dimitri’s leg moves as though to help, but it always results in a stumble that has the guys catching him. Anastasia brings up the rear behind me, glancing around every so often.
It feels like hours before we get upstairs, opting for Dimitri’s apartment rather than mine. The soldiers rest him on his bed before retreating, obeying commands given by Vanessa for one of them to wait by the vehicle and the other two by the front door for the doctor and to keep guard over possible Corsetti drop-ins.
I stop listening to the background noise of her directing people, instead sitting on the edge of Dimitri’s bed and clutching his hand. His mottled face and countless bruises are worrisome, as are his deep breaths as he moves between life and death.
Anastasia enters the room to rest a glass of water on the side table. “For you,” she murmurs. “You okay?”
“Willhebe? This looks really bad.”
“He held on for weeks, with only adrenaline to keep him going. He’s just lost all that and his body is telling him to rest and mend. It’ll likely take a few weeks for all the swelling to go down, but Dimitri’s been in worse scraps before.”
I doubt it, but she’s doing her best to reassure me.
Vanessa comes into the room next, staring at her phone. “Doc’s on her way up.”
Relief filters through me, and I grip his hand tighter, longing for the time he’ll hold it back.
“You did good,” she says, lifting her head. “There, I mean. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t hide. You brought him back to life. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Without me there, everything that went down would have happened the same way.”
Vanessa stares at my hand in Dimitri’s. “That’s not why I’m thanking you.”
The abrupt knock on the door pulls her attention away and Anastasia jogs to the door, returning with a doctor.
At one pointin my training, my father kept me awake for four days straight and deprived me of food, giving me the bare minimum of water. He called it psychological warfare, and in order to do the same to enemies, I had to understand how it felt to be deprived of basic necessities and senses. To survive, one must endure.
Turns out, he was preparing me for the day his own asshole comrades did the same to me.
Gentle hands stroke my body, while rougher ones are rubbing at my face and arms, the cuts on my body stinging in response. Given the temperature over my skin, my shirt’s been removed. Maybe my pants too. Beneath me is much softer than stone and the hard chair that’s been home for the past two weeks.
Four hands suddenly become two and gentle fingers push hair off my forehead. Everything hurts, but I’ll be damned if I don’t see her before she leaves again.
Because I get it now. I do. Why she had to leave.
