Page 125 of Deadly Knight

One eye is too heavy, too swollen to even attempt opening, but my other latches onto the physical manifestation of my soul crouching beside me. With my attention, she breaks into a huge smile that’s healing on its own before bursting into tears.

I lift my arms, half surprised to have that much energy. My throat is bone dry, which I realize when attempting to speak, but I have to tell her.

She leans over, kissing the edge of my swollen jaw. “Shh, it’s okay. Here, the doctor recommended you drink and rest. That’s your entire job.”

Doctor?

A glass is placed at my lips and the water is both cool and restorative, but it’s too much and I only manage a small sip before she replaces the cup on the bedside table.

Past Katya’s face is a familiar white ceiling that I eventually connect to being in my apartment..

“Home,” I grate, the singular word unattached to a meaningful statement.

WhatdoI mean?

My eyes grow heavy all over. Although, they were never really light to begin with.

In my last dredge of strength, I reach for Katya, tugging her down beside me. She stiffens and shoves a hand into the bed, as though to separate us.

“Stay,” I rasp, eyes already shutting. “Helps.”

“I shouldn’t. It might hurt you.”

“Helps.”

After a moment, she settles her head on my chest, right over my heart. The heart she owns. Always has, always will.

For now, it keeps beating for her.

The next time I awaken,the sun is a bitch streaming through the thin curtain I added a few years ago. This place was never home; always temporary. Essentially, a hotel room conveniently located beneath Katya’s.

With a groan, I reach for her, finding her place next to me depressingly cold to the touch.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

The pillows and wall help me get myself halfway upright, the vision of my cousin clear through one eye, and halfway there with the other, suggesting it’s been long enough since captivity that my body nursed itself somewhat back to health.

Regardless, my body feels like it was run through a shredder—which it essentially was. The assholes pummeled me with my hands tied so I couldn’t fight back.

“What time is it?” God, my throat is dry as a desert, and I search my nightstand for the water Katya fed me earlier. It’s there, full, beside a bottle of pills I immediately reach for, skipping the question of how prescription pills are conveniently here. “Where is she?”

“Out.” Vanessa pushes off the wall and approaches me before unscrewing the pill bottle and dumping three into my hand. “Doc said two-to-three every four hours until things stop hurting.”

I swallow them dry, chasing them with water. At this rate, I’ll be sucking them down for a few more weeks.

“Out where?” I glare because Vanessa knows what keeping information like this does to my sanity.

“Said she had a few errands to run. Left about two hours ago. Ana’s with her. Figured it can’t hurt to send protection just in case.”

“Good. How long have I been asleep?”

“Hm, about thirty hours, give or take. Once we got you here, you passed right the fuck out. Not that I blame you, after what you endured.” Her tongue skates over her teeth. “Sorry it took so long to realize you’d been taken. For a while, we all assumed you were ghosting us. Your way of sending a message.” She flicks my phone sitting on the opposite end of the side table. It doesn’t react to her, probably dead.

“Your first few calls, yeah, that was me ignoring you. Any others, no. Not after day three of being here.” I scrape a hand over my hair, eyes catching on the bruises now an ugly yellow all over my arms. “They got the fuckin’ drop on me. Still don’t know how. It was unexpected, and they shot me up with something. Next thing I knew, I woke up in that cage. They wanted to punish both meandyou. Me for what I did to Ivan, and you for being…well, you. Said this was the only way they’d get what they wanted.”

“Well, it didn’t work. Ivan wasn’t going free for anything. Knew we could get you out another way—once I realized what had happened, that is. After days of being ignored, I got the sense something wasn’t right, so I contacted Katya, wondering if she’d seen you. She believed you were in Moscow; didn’t know you’d left the Bratva.” She hikes a brow, her own question woven between the tiny hairs.

“Hadn’t approached her yet. I was giving her time.”