Page 60 of Delicious Prey

“They will.”

“And you’ll take me to him as soon as I get cleaned up?”

“I will.”

“Okay then,” I say, leaning back into the seat. The drive back seems to take forever. I can’t stop imagining the worst-case scenario. By the time he pulls in front of the garage, I’m barely holding myself together.

Vadim squeezes my hand and says, “He’s strong, Lydia. He’s going to fight to stay here with you.”

I nod, unable to speak because if I try, I’ll just end up bawling again. He gives me another squeeze before getting out and freeing the dogs.

“I’m going to get them taken care of. I’ll bring you to him as soon as you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Vadim,” I tell him, before petting Grisha one last time and then running inside.

The empty house is like a slap to the face. Peanut runs up to me, sniffing and looking around for Kirill, and when he doesn’t see him, he sniffs the blood I’m covered in and gives a soft whine. I pick him up and cry while I carry him upstairs. As soon as I cross into our bedroom, I force myself to block everything else out except the bathroom door. If I look at the bed or the balcony where I told him I didn’t love him anymore, I will never be able to get through this.

Setting Peanut down, I start the shower and step in, peeling off the bloody shirt and tossing it aside before stepping under the hot spray. I scrub Kirill’s blood off me, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t. If he doesn’t survive this, then I’m washing away the last piece of him I have. The morbid thought makes me cry even harder. I focus on how badly I need to be with him and scrub myself harder, not caring that it’s causing me pain when I run over my bruises and scrapes. The slice along my ribs starts bleeding again, and instead of stopping, I press in even harder, welcoming the pain. I’d rather feel that than the all-consuming anguish that’s threatening to rip me apart.

When I’m done, I hurry up and dry off and get dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt. The last thing I grab is the hoodie Kirill wore the other day. It’s going to be humongous on me, but I need to feel close to him. I need to feel like he’s still with me. Before I leave the room, I pull on a pair of sneakers and grab Peanut because he’s definitely coming with me. Vadim is waiting for me when I run back outside.

I get in the passenger seat and quickly ask, “Any news?”

“He’s in surgery.”

I can tell he’s holding back. “What is it?”

He scratches at his beard as he drives us back out the gate and sighs. “They said to prepare for the worst. He lost a lot of blood, and the bullet did a lot of damage.”

I bite my bottom lip, holding in the scream that’s dying to come out.

“They don’t know him, Lydia,” Vadim reminds me. “They have no idea what a giant stubborn ass he is.”

“Mm-hmm,” I manage to mumble, hugging Peanut tighter and pressing my nose against the sweatshirt that still smells like him.

Vadim drives us away from the city until we’re surrounded by woods. Sunrise is still a few hours away, and I don’t see anything that looks even remotely familiar. When he turns down a desolate-looking side road, I finally ask, “Where are we?”

“Some place very hidden,” he says. “It goes without saying that you can’t ever tell anyone about this place or the doctors working here.”

I look over at him and lift a brow. “Who in the hell would I tell? You’ve spied on my life. You know how boring it is.”

He gives me a smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought you had a very interesting life.”

“That’s very generous of you, Vadim.” I stare as we come around the bend and the whole place opens up, revealing a large, three-story house. “Well, it’s definitely not boring now.”

“No, it isn’t. Welcome to the exciting world of crime.”

“I think I’ll be happy to go back to boring once Kirill is back home.”

He smiles at me, and this time it reaches his eyes. “I think he would love that.”

There’s a tall privacy fence blocking us from getting any closer, and when Vadim stops the car, several armed men step out from the shadows, surrounding the car as my heart starts racing again. They’re all in black with guns at their hips and even bigger ones in their hands. The rifles are clipped to slings that fit across their chests. They’re holding them, but they don’t aim them at us. It’s only a small comfort, though, since I know that could change in a millisecond.

“Vadim,” I whisper.

“It’s okay. They have to keep this place guarded.” He rolls down his window and says, “We’re here to see Kirill Chernikov.”

The man closest to Vadim, holds up his radio and speaks to someone inside, relaying what was just said. He turns back to us. “Any weapons?”

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