Page 16 of Deadly Knight

“Is she okay?”

“She’s alive.” He pauses, kicking out a leg in front of him. “Police told us what you passed on to them. They’ll be collecting her statement tomorrow if she’s conscious long enough. She woke up for a few minutes today, but passed out after a very short conversation.”

My eyes shift to the right, catching as much of the middle-aged man as I can in my periphery without directly facing him. “There are no words that’ll describe how sorry I am. I-I never…I didn’t…” My sentences fade as my throat fills, no explanation good enough.

“I know.”

My head drops into my hands, the weight too much. “I tried. I told her to stay. She didn’t…didn’t…” What I was about to say isn’t at all correct, so I give up talking. She may not have listened when I ordered her back to the party, but what happened isn’t her fault whatsoever. Rape isn’t the victim’s fault. “I should have protected her.”

“You should have.”

His agreement, while justified, is still a kick in the gut.

“But,” he continues softly, “you were there for her. You did what you could.”

That gives me a bit of hope. “I have no right to ask this, but can I see her?”

There’s a beat of silence before he leans forward, putting himself into my view. His elbows lift to the chair’s armrests, his position almost casual. “I don’t think that’s wise right now. If she asks for you, I will call you, I promise.”

I manage to bob my head in a nod when my throat is too tight to verbally agree. After another few seconds of silence, he stands and paces away. My head remains low, eyes on his retreating steps.

He stops walking, hesitating, and I drag my eyes up, finally looking into the face of the man who has every right to slaughter me. I could only hope he sees my own pain and spares me. Fuck,herpain is enough to gut me, which saves him from doing the job himself.

“I’m sorry, Dimitri. When the police told us what happened, you were in my thoughts too. You survived something horrendous, and I’m sorry you had to witness what they did, but I’m also grateful. Grateful she had you to cling to, and that you got her out. You saved her in the end, and you have my gratitude for that.”

Then he turns and walks away before my mind can formulate a semi-rational response.

A responseto her father’s speech never comes. Not after sitting outside the hospital all night and into the early hours of the next day before finally crawling home. After speaking withher father, I couldn’t risk leaving in case she woke up asking for me. Then I’d be close enough to be by her side quickly. It was a hope that never got granted.

Shutting the front door of the Volkov mansion sends a fresh wave of determination through me. Maybe it’s being away from the grimness of the hospital and back within the building that represents so much anger, bloodshed, and power that does it. But suddenly, my requirement for sleep and anything the nurses recommended for mending is secondary to the utterdemandto fix Katya in the only way I can—by ridding the world of her nightmares.

I rush down the hallway towards my uncle’s office. If he and Papa are around, they only ever occupy one room out of the many within the mansion. Always conducting business and planning future takeovers.

Without pausing, I throw open the door, praying they’re here and not in the city. Even if their help comes with a cost, it’s one I’ll pay to figure out who the four men were.

Both men look up from the paperwork they’re intently studying. Ursin is seated in his chair with my father standing by his right, one hand propping him up on the desk as he leans closer, gesturing to something. He straightens slowly when I stride in, slamming the door shut.

“Dimitri,” he greets, his expression guarded in that typical manner. No warmth in this father-son relationship. “Just get in? How was the party? You’ve been gone for more than a day.”

I approach the desk. My limbs are weak, demanding I drop into one of the chairs, but once I do, I may never get back up. I wonder what they’re seeing right now. Me manic. Depressed. Insane.

“I need your help, Papa.”

Ursin glances at his brother, mouth flattening, before he lifts to his feet. “I’m going to leave you two alone.” He strides around the desk and by me without another look.

When the door shuts, Papa steals his seat, his hands folding together over the desk. If my uncle weren’t around, he could pass as Pakhan. If Ursin wasn’t the eldest, Papawouldbe Pakhan, and I’d be expected to follow in his footsteps to become the next leader.

Thank fuck that’s not what fate has in store for me.

“Papa, last night?—”

“How’s Katya? She wake up yet?”

My blood cools, and my stance slowly straightens as I replay his question over and over. Papa’s powerful and has eyes everywhere. It shouldn’t surprise me that someone may have witnessed Katya and me arriving at the hospital and phoned him.

That’s the logical answer, but his expression suggests otherwise. It’s in the way his lips lift and he reclines in the chair with a deep, exhaustive breath. I recognize this look. It’s one he gives me so often before demanding my obedience. One he gives captives before he kills them.

One that says,I’ve won, deal with it.