Page 83 of Sergei

“I remember. He was struggling to get around, and those assholes were throwing rocks at it.”

“And you ran over and started yelling at them to stop.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it was Alina who was doing the yelling.”

“It was you. Hell, you weren’t but seven or eight at the time, but you were a mean, little sonofabitch.”

“Viktor,” Tabitha scolded.

“He was, and you know it.”

“I don’t know any such thing.”

I listened to them bicker, but my attention was still on Sergei. Being careful to avoid his IV, I curled my fingers tighter around his hand. His chest continued to rise and fall in shallow but steady breaths. My eyes were still trained on his chest when Nikolai grumbled, “I didn’t take shit off anyone. Still don’t.”

“See, Mother. A mean, little sonofabitch,” Viktor teased. “And he’s still your favorite.”

“I don’t have a favorite, Viktor.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

Nikolai didn’t argue about being the favorite. He simply scratched the side of his head and said, “Any-way, I wasn’t going to let them hurt that dog. I didn’t care if he was stray or not.”

“And you almost got your ass kicked because of it.”

“I did no such thing. I could’ve taken them easy.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Just stating facts, brother.”

“Those guys would have pummeled you if it hadn’t been for Sergei.”

“Whatever.” I thought that was going to be the end of it until Nikolai added, “He was just as pissed as I was that they were fucking with that dog.”

“He didn’t give a fuck about that dog. He was pissed that one of them shoved you.”

“He went after them because they tried to set that dog on fire.”

“He saw what they were doing, but he didn’t go after them until one of them knocked your ass to the ground.”

I should’ve told them to stop arguing, but their voices were oddly comforting. And it was good for Sergei to know that he wasn’t in that room alone. We were all there, right by his side, and we would be there until he found the strength to come back to us. God, how I prayed that he would come back to us.

“You got it wrong. He jumped in when the guy with the shaved head came at you with that rusty pipe.”

“That wasn’t him. That was me.”

“No way. That was Sergei. One hundred percent.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Viktor argued. “Sergei was too busy dealing with the other two, and when he finished beating the hell out of the bigger one, he said, ‘If you touch my brother again, I’ll…’”

A hoarse voice cut through the air, low and strained, “I’ll break your fucking hand and feed it to you, and it was a crowbar, not a pipe. And I’m Mom’s favorite. Always have been.”

My breath caught as I looked up to Sergei’s face. His eyes were still closed, so I thought I’d imagined it. Then, his fingers twitched in mine. I was up and out of that chair before I could even blink, and the sound that tore out of me was somewhere between a sob and a prayer. His eyes fluttered open. It was slow and just a little, but they were open, and they were locked on mine.

I cupped his face and pressed my mouth to his like I’d been drowning and he was air. He grunted against my lips with a wince. “Easy, baby. I’m wounded over here.”

I was outright crying at this point, and my words came out as a jumbled mess as I told him, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”