Page 70 of In Her Blood
Otto could feel her trembling, and that more than anything spiked his anxiety. He couldn’t be sure whether Lina would crumble under the heavy revelations or snap with the fury sure to follow. And while he understood the anger, this was not the time to be letting surging emotions run free.
“Pyotr did genuinely hate you,” Grisha said, as if he were consoling her. “He was consumed with a bitter jealousy toward you. You, whose mother lived to raise you. You, whose father lived through tragedy. You, who lived.” He chuckled as though he’d said something funny.
Orlov reached over and curled her fingers into the side of Grisha’s shirt. She’d stopped crying and wasn’t making any effort to pull from his hold. Other than that, Otto wasn’t surewhat truths he could make in her expression. But her quiet words carried easily. “Can we go…?”
Grisha glanced down at her. “In a moment.”
Otto barely heard the response over the way his adrenaline surged when he felt Lina move behind him. She didn’t leap out, didn’t scream. She just dragged her other arm forward until the gun was exposed—tucked between his elbow and his abdomen—and pulled the trigger.
It was loud in the echo-chamber of the space around them and jarring in its suddenness, but that was also why it was effective. Particularly since she hadn’t aimed more than to try to avoid her ex-friend.
Orlov screamed again and Grisha stumbled back, but he didn’t go down.
Otto didn’t stand still to watch the rest. He hauled Lina off her feet and sprinted for the hall they’d come in through. “Keep shooting!” he called to her, despite that he hated it. He couldn’t possibly extract her and cover their exposed backs simultaneously.
More gunfire erupted, this time from both sides, and Otto clutched her tight as he poured all his strength into his legs. He could only pray she didn’t take any serious wounds.
A shot ricocheted off the wall just over his opposite shoulder and Otto adjusted the angle of his stride. The hall was too narrow for a true zig-zag run, but he could move enough to keep their vital organs in inconsistent places. It was something.
Her body jerked a little harder than it had while she’d been returning fire and he thought he heard her suck in a breath. But over the deafening cacophony, he couldn’t be sure.
He twisted to the side, crashing through the door rather than stopping outright, and rolled them roughly across the ground until he had his feet under him enough to get them moving again. None of it was gentle. None of it was something he would choose to force her through. But it was a damn sight better than sticking around in that warehouse and waiting for an execution.
“That’s impossible,” Pavel said with a firm shake of his head. “Konstantin’s kid died in the firefight that killed your brother.”
Evelina heaved out an exasperated breath and turned again to look toward the uninhabitable structure that was supposed to be her home. She had thought it would be harder to look at under clear skies and without the brain-numbing pulse of adrenaline coursing through her, but the sight was surprisingly … freeing.
It wasn’t like she’d ever liked that house. Or the life she’d lived within its walls.
Think about that later.There was so much to think about later.
“Well, he was pretty fuckin’ clear about it,” Otto said with a grunt. “Right after he blew a goddamn hole in Pyotr’s head.”
Pavel sighed heavily. “That’s…. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
Evelina closed her eyes as the vision of her aggravating cousin dropping to the ground, his brain spraying out behind his body, replayed in her mind. It was really over. He was gone, and with him, their stupid rivalry had come to an end.
“Lina?” Otto moved closer and brushed his fingers over the back of her shoulder, just shy of the fresh bandage adhered to her skin.
She put her back to the house again and managed a smile for him. She knew he hadn’t been thrilled about how any of that confrontation had ended, and least of all that she’d felt the bite of another bullet. Really, one of them getting shot had been unavoidable in that warehouse. It was a miracle her worst injury was the graze that had torn open the skin over her shoulder, no matter how much it stung. She was just glad he hadn’t ended up like Pyotr.
Pressing her fingers lightly to Otto’s chest, Evelina said, “I’m—I will be—okay. It’s just a lot.” Her smile faded. Itwasa lot.
“It is a lot,” Pavel echoed. “And I’ll admit, it’s hard to believe. But I can ask around for you, see who might have heard what rumors about Konstantin or his ilk. You’re right, at least, that there are still some parties who would be reluctant to talk to you.”
The reminder was frustrating, but it was also why Evelina had chosen to reach out to Pavel in the first place. “I appreciate it. Remember, we likely don’t have much time.” Because if it was true that Grisha was a Morozov—the heir, no less—thenhe couldn’t possibly have spent years infiltrating the Nikolaevs just to ultimately kill only Pyotr, and perhaps make one or two failed attempts at her. Even with the added ‘prize’ of getting himself a baby mama, it was too large an investment for too small a victory. She knew in her gut he would be back.
It had always been the Morozov’s goal to destroy them completely, after all.
“I understand,” Pavel said with a nod before striding away.
Otto turned in place. “Looks like Grigoriy’s here.”
Evelina allowed herself a singular moment to gently stretch her sore muscles before turning toward what had become of the main yard. Between the previous day’s shootout and the fire—the veritable stampede, the body drops, the singed spots from raining ash, the physical debris, and of course the heavy vehicles not paying attention to things like driveway perimeters—it was nearly unrecognizable. On the bright side, any blood that remained on the grass was thoroughly contaminated.
Still, she scrunched up her nose. “We can’t have a conversation standing in this.” She hadn’t expected it to also be somuddy.
Otto jerked his chin to the side. “Side yard’ll be less muddy.”
