Page 174 of Toxic Salvation
KOVAN
“Kovan?”
Vesper’s voice cuts through the fog in my head. I’ve been sitting in this chair for three hours, staring at nothing, letting the darkness eat me alive. The weight on my chest feels permanent now—a concrete block that settled there the moment I found Denis bleeding out on those steps.
She slips out of bed, bare feet silent on the hardwood. The moonlight catches her skin through my old t-shirt. It’s so worn it’s practically see-through. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders, messy from sleep but still beautiful enough to stop my breath.
“Why are you sitting here in the dark?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t talk about it.”
She takes a step back, and I immediately want to eat my words. I didn’t mean to sound cold and I’m not trying to be a bastard. I just don’t know how to process failure.
And tonight… tonight has been nothing but failure.
Instead of retreating to the safety of our bed, she walks closer. Gets on her knees in front of me, her hands settling on my thighs with gentle pressure.
“You can tell me what’s going on. You can tell me anything, Kovan.”
“Go back to bed, Vesper.”
Her spine straightens. Her jaw sets in that stubborn line I know so well. “I’m your wife. I’m not going anywhere.” Her hands move up and down my legs, from my knees to my thighs and back again. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t demand to know. But I will sit here with you in the dark for as long as you need.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I have a ring on my finger that says I do. And even if I didn’t, I would still be right here. Because I have your back, Kovan, even if you don’t trust me.”
My head snaps up. “I do trust you. This isn’t about trust.”
She sighs but doesn’t answer. Instead, she pushes herself up and pulls my head to her chest, her arms wrapping around me.
I don’t make the conscious decision to hold her back; it just happens. My arms circle her waist, and I press my face against the soft cotton covering her breasts. I can hear her heartbeat through the fabric—steady, strong, alive.
The sound fills me with something I can’t name. Hope, maybe. Or just the desperate, flailing need to hold onto something good when everything else is falling apart.
I drag her onto my lap and lean into her warmth.
We stay wrapped around each other as the moonlight shifts from dull gray to bright silver. Time moves differently when you’re sitting in the wreckage of your plans and the arms of your loved one. Minutes stretch into hours. Hours compress into seconds.
Finally, my chest loosens enough for me to speak.
“Denis is dead.”
Her arms tighten around me. “Denis… Ihor’s man?”
“He was the only man Ihor trusted. Now, he’s dead. And so is our best chance at winning this war. We’ve lost the element of surprise.”
“So Ihor knew Denis had defected to you?”
I nod. “There was no other reason to kill him. No reason to kill any of them.”
She goes rigid in my arms. “There are more?”
“Right after we found Denis, we got another call. Another one of our men. Then another. Then another.” I can barely form the words, they’re so bitter. “Five in total. All men whom Ihor had under his thumb until I gave them hope. Until I promised them something better.”
“So he knows what you’ve been doing?”
“He’s decided to go on the offensive. But he’s doing it smart—hiring mercenaries so I can’t call him out in the open. He’s playing cat and mouse.”
