Page 51 of The Crimson Lily

I see an opening. Ducking and almost cowering, I head for the door back into the cloister.

I run and run until I reach the nearest window. I do my best to open it fast, remembering my hand is broken, but it clicks anyway, and I lift the heavy pane and slip through it like a cat on speed.

I land on my belly on cold gravel. To my left, by the chapel’s entrance, are a dozen Carabinieri and police cars ready to take this whole place down.

I hear William’s voice behind me. “Liliana!” His anger pierces through the winter air. “You’re not going anywhere!” he roars and cocks a gun.

I halt, raise my hands in surrender, and slowly turn to face my big cousin. Gunshots still thunder inside the chapel.

“How?” he spits.

I grin. The de Loit sneer. William recognizes it, and it infuriates him.

“I’m going to make you suffer,” he blurts, pacing toward me, clutching my neck with one hand.

He overtakes me and pushes me down with his weight. I fall to my knees. His eyes scream desperation.

“You…?lose…” I stammer.

He releases his grip and slaps me hard in the face with his gun. My mouth starts to bleed. I eject a chunk of spit and blood. He’s about to give me a hook punch when I block his arm with the edge of mine and go for his jaw.

The gun in his hand shoots the ground.

I stagger, stunned by the ringing in my ear. I catch on to William, ready to give another punch, when my forehead meets the barrel of his gun.

Click. He cocks it.

At the same time, more gunshots pop like Chinese crackers. More Carabinieri screamers storm the chapel.

“I should have killed you eight months ago,” he says, grinding his teeth.

I maintain his gaze. I know William’s going to shoot.

But I don’t see my life flash before my eyes like people say.

My past doesn’t loop on this endless carousel displaying the meaningless pictures of my life.

I went through that only a few hours earlier.

Instead, I just see Maksim. My favorite Belarusian man.

Mr. Business Class. I see the usual silver of his gaze delving into mine right before a kiss.

I feel his presence. I feel his love for me.

I’m sure of it now. Love. There’s no place left for doubt.

I close my eyes, waiting for the end, making peace with it.

Click.

“Drop the gun,” Maksim’s voice sounds from behind William.

I open my eyes and see Maksim, towering above William with a demon’s glare.

After a moment of hesitation, William looks over his shoulder and faces Maksim Kovalyov, my Bratva wolf. Then, after a moment of decision, William turns back to me, his features sharp and unstoppable.

I have a fraction of a second to dash to the side.

Bang. William pulls the trigger.

The loud bullet pierces through my arm, making the sound of a fish slipping away.

I fall on the gravel, the pain spreading into my shoulder.

Enervated bangs. Cracks and thumps.

For as long as I can keep my eyes open, I see Maksim, his fists loaded, going at William until there’s nothing left of his face. Muffled screams, bones crushing, maybe it’s just Maksim taking out each of his knuckles against the gravel.

He comes for me when he’s done. He wraps his arms around me and holds me there, almost lifeless. I can’t move. I’ve lost too much blood already.

“Maksim…” I murmur. “You came.”

He squeezes me so I stay awake. “Always, Liliana. I’ll always come for you.”

I offer a silly simper. Maksim lifts me up in the air and begins to walk into the woods. I can see more police cars behind us, with colorful spinning beacons that create a perfect show of blinking lights.

“ Carabinieri! ” a voice rings into the night.

I don’t know where it comes from, but I let its echo slowly rock me to sleep. I’m still awake, or maybe already dreaming, when I hear Giovanni’s voice merge with Maksim’s. And maybe more voices. Are they speaking Italian? Russian? Both? I don’t know anymore.

Startled, I loudly breathe in a chunk of air. I was awoken by my own racing heartbeat sounding on the monitor beside my bed. A hospital bed. I shake my head. Am I really in a hospital? There are no windows, only the white walls of a room underground.

Maksim rests his head in his arms, which are crossed near my leg, one hand clenched around my shin.

He’s here. Even if he’s sleeping, he makes me understand he won’t let me go.

There are cuts on his face but significantly less blood than the last time I saw him.

He has a big bruise peeking above his left eye.

I can’t see the rest of his beautiful face.

I raise my upper body to sit up, noticing now that my right arm is wrapped in tight bandages where I was shot. I don’t feel pain. I just feel…?woozy, and the more I straighten myself, the dizzier I feel.

Morphine. I’ve never had morphine, but that’s definitely it .

I lay my hand nonchalantly on his strong arm booming out of his crumpled white shirt.

Maksim opens his eyes.

“You need to rest, zaya ,” he urges, coming close to me.

“Where am I?” I prompt.

“Mafia Capitale quarters,” he answers. “You’re safe.”

I look at my now bleeding arm, a red spot forming under the bandages. “I got shot,” I observe, Captain Obvious style.

I still have my hand on his arm, so I squeeze it a little. I let the relief—morphine—take over most of my mind. I am safe. Maksim is here.

“The dagger?” I press.

Maksim gives me an affirmative nod, and I fall back against my pillow.

Relief.

“William?” I ask, swooshing up again.

Another nod followed by a concerned frown. “Get some rest,” he prescribes. He delicately pushes me back onto the pillow himself.

I catch his arm again before he can leave.

“Don’t go,” I beg with the little strength I have left.

Maksim frowns at me, incredulous. “Why do you think I’d go anywhere?”

I instantly retract my hand, feeling silly.

Of course he won’t leave me. Stupid Liliana.

That man wouldn’t leave you even if the world depended on it.

I stretch both my arms out this time, requesting Maksim to come into them.

I notice the bruise around his right eye looks worse than the other.

It makes me feel bad. It also makes me wonder what I look like right now myself.

Maksim leans into my embrace. I hold him there, practically hugging the life out of him. I mouth an “I love you” to his ear, but no sound comes out. That’s the whole point of mouthing.

He goes back to his original position, guarding my legs, taking my hand in his. He brushes the back of my hand, my palm, and intertwines his fingers with mine. His touch, his soothing caress, invites me to close my eyes again and let go of the world.

“I’m staying,” he eventually says when he thinks I’m asleep. I feel his tender gaze linger on me for a while until my consciousness fades away. “Forever.”