Page 67 of Darkest Game
“Isn’t that a big enough reason to not be with someone?”
“Sure. It is. But if you want her to be yours, Liam, then you fight for her. Does she know how you feel?”
I snort. “Fuck no. I don’t talk about these things with people. You’re my mom. You’re the only one good enough in getting these things out of me.”
“She’ll make it through this. And then tell her how you feel. Tell her you want her to stay with you. Can you talk to her family? Make them see how much you care for her? How much you want to protect her?”
“I mean… I can try. But there’s a good chance they’ll just shoot me in the fucking face before I can get a word out.”
“I don’t like that language.”
“Well tough shit. This is how I speak.”
She cups my face. “You’re no longer my sweet boy I remember. You’ve grown into a man who… who has a lot of darkness in him. But I can tell you still have sweetness in you. I know it’s in there. Make sure Irina knows this. And convince her family that you’re not a danger to her.” She pauses. “Who is her family exactly?”
“She’s connected to the Russian and Italian mafia. So, big time people. Big time people with a lot of fucking power.”
“I don’t want you to die. So if you think it’s worth it to let her go, then I understand. Only fight for her if you think she’s worth it. I don’t want to lose you. But if I am going to lose you, then I would want you to die for love. No other reason.”
I stare at her in shock. “How can you speak so calmly about all of this?”
“Because I know what you’ve done over the years. The people you work with. I never wanted to be a part of it. Hated that life for you. But I’ve accepted it. Doesn’t mean I like it. But I have gotten used to the idea of you in that world. And… every night before I go to sleep, I prepare myself for the reality that you might not be alive when I wake up. That every moment of the day, I might get a call, telling me you’re dead. So I’ve come to terms with the notion of you dying. So only die for love, Liam. Die fighting for what you believe in. And if she’s not worth it to you, then let her go. And live.”
There’s so much I want to say to her. How I’m sorry for making her so worried. How I’m the worst son in the world. How I wish I could be a son she was proud of.
But before I can get a word out, a doctor approaches. She’s a woman in her late thirties or early forties. Tired lines are on her face.
“You’re the ones who brought Irina in?”
“I’m her husband,” I say, shocking myself how natural it is to say that word, standing up to face the doctor.
“Good news. Irina can still speak. We had to stitch up the bleeding but she didn’t lose much blood. You got her here in time. But her vocal chords will be rusty for a while and she needs to take it easy to rest and heal. But she got real lucky. The cut wasn’t too deep. We called the police about the incident since you told one of our nurses that someone had cut her.”
“Uh… yes.” Shit. The police. It’s never a good thing to involve them in mafia business.
“You can go into the room to talk to her. We’ll be moving her to another room for the night for observation later.”
“Thank you.” I turn to my mom.
“Go,” she says. “I’ll wait out here.”
I hurry into the room and stumble to a halt. Seeing Irina on the gurney, her throat stitched up, and an IV in her arm, makes her seem even more vulnerable. God, I want to protect this girl so fucking much.
Slowly, I approach her side. A nurse moves out of my way so I can grab Irina’s hand.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she rasps out.
“Rest your voice,” the nurse tells her. “No talking for a little while.”
Irina nods and turns her eyes onto me. They’re filled with hope and sadness and anger. Tears spring to her eyes and spill down her face.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. “I’m here.” I have no idea if my words are any comfort to her but I have to believe they are. I want them to be.
The door to the room is banged open, making me look up.
“You can’t be in here,” a nurse speaks to the two men who have just entered the room.
