Page 23 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

VESPER

“Dr. Nass?”

I bolt upright from the uncomfortable hospital chair. My lower back protests after hours of keeping vigil beside Mom’s bed. The doctor stands in the doorway, but her smile is the somber sympathy of a funeral director. It’s the face of a woman bringing bad news.

“Were we expecting you?” I cross to Mom’s bedside, instinctively positioning myself between the two of them. As if that’ll make a difference.

“No, and I apologize for not calling ahead.” Dr. Nass steps into the room and closes the door behind her. “But this is urgent.”

Through the small window in the door, I catch sight of Kovan’s broad shoulders.

He’s stationed himself in the hallway like a sentry, close enough to intervene if needed but far enough to give us privacy.

Part of me wants to call him in. I hate that I’ve come to rely on him this way, hate that I crave his strength when everything falls apart.

“What’s wrong?” Mom struggles to sit up straighter. “Is it about the trial?”

Dr. Nass pulls out a tablet. “The hospital is being sued.”

“Sued? By who?”

“One of the patients who was supposed to be in the clinical trial. They’re claiming breach of contract.”

My mouth goes dry. This is it. This is where my careful lies unravel. And when they do, they'll destroy not just me, but my dying mother, too.

“I don’t understand.” Mom looks between us in confusion.

“Someone who was originally selected for your trial spot is upset about being removed.” I keep my explanation simple, but inside, I’m screaming.

This is my fault. All of it.

Dr. Nass consults her tablet again. “It’s more complicated than that. This patient was chosen initially, but when we rechecked their medical data, we found discrepancies that disqualified them from participation. Their levels weren’t within the acceptable range for the trial parameters.”

Mom’s hand finds mine. “That’s how a spot opened for me? I took someone else’s place?”

The taste of bile rises in my throat. I need to find somewhere to be sick, and soon. The guilt is eating me alive from the inside out.

“Annabelle, you shouldn’t feel responsible for this,” says Dr. Nass. “I’m only here because the hospital wants me to verify all patient information. They’re in full damage control mode and can’t afford any more surprises.”

“What kind of verification?” I manage to choke out.

Sweat beads along my hairline despite the hospital’s aggressive air conditioning. If perspiration were a polygraph test, I’d be failing spectacularly right now.

“Just basic details about your diagnosis, Annabelle. I know we covered this in your intake interview, but please bear with me.”

I move around to the foot of Mom’s bed, trying to situate myself where I can see Dr. Nass’s tablet screen. Mom looks waxen under the fluorescent lights, but then again, she always looks half-dead these days. The cancer has stolen her color along with everything else.

Dr. Nass launches into routine questions—full name, date of birth, medical history, allergies. Standard stuff that wouldn’t trip up anyone telling the truth.

But I’m not telling the truth, am I? I’m living a lie.

I inch closer until I catch a glimpse of the patient chart on the tablet screen. My heart pounds against my ribs when I see the question that’s coming.

“When exactly were you first diagnosed with cancer, Annabelle?”

Game over.

I’m so completely screwed. After all the work Kovan put into covering my tracks, I’m about to be exposed by a simple verification question.

“She always has trouble with dates.” The lie rolls off my tongue. “You were diagnosed two years ago, weren’t you, Mom?”

Mom’s mouth opens, then closes. Her eyes go to mine. I stare back at her, pouring every ounce of desperation I feel into my gaze.

Please. Please don’t let me down now.

“Is that correct, Annabelle?” Dr. Nass presses, her pen poised over the tablet.

I nod encouragingly while Mom shifts uncomfortably in her hospital bed. “Could I… could I have some water, Doctor?”

Dr. Nass dutifully pours water from the bedside pitcher and hands Mom the plastic cup. Mom drinks slowly, buying herself time to think. When she finally sets the cup down, Dr. Nass repeats her question.

“I don’t want to keep you long, Annabelle. I just need this one answer and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Mom looks at me one final time. In her eyes, I see the moment she makes her choice. The moment she decides to sacrifice her principles for her daughter.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “It was about two years ago.”

She lies. For me. My mother, who raised me to value honesty above all else, just committed fraud to protect me.

“Perfect. That’s all I needed to know.” Dr. Nass taps her screen and then tucks it under her arm. “Thank you both for your time.”

I escort Dr. Nass out, then return to sink into the chair beside Mom’s bed. The weight of what just happened is like unbearable gravity dragging me into the lowest circle of hell.

“Mom—”

“Vesper Antoinette Fairfax, why did I just lie to my doctor?”

Being middle-named is never good. I reach for her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Honey…” Her voice shakes. “What did you do?”

“I had to save you,” I whisper. “I had to give you a fighting chance.”

“Oh, Vesper…” Sunlight streams through the window, casting her face in golden light that only emphasizes how translucent her skin has become. She looks like she’s already halfway to wherever Dad is waiting.

“You don’t understand.” I grip her hand tighter, as if I can keep her tethered to this world through touch alone.

“I’m a doctor. My job is to save lives. But somehow, I can never help the people I love most. When you told me about the cancer, I knew the statistics.

I knew what a death sentence looked like.

But I also knew I couldn’t just give up without a fight. ”

“This isn’t about you, though, honey.”

She delivers the blow gently, the way she’s always delivered difficult truths. But it still cuts deep. I release her hand and step back from the bed.

“You’re my mother,” I insist. “Everything about you is about me.”

“You’re thirty-one years old, Vesper. You don’t need me anymore.

” Her sunken eyes seem enormous in her gaunt face.

“I’ve told you before: It’s time for me to join your father.

You took an opportunity from someone who actually wants to live, someone who deserves another chance.

Not to mention that you’ve compromised a clinical trial that could help save countless other patients. ”

I swipe angrily at the tears streaming down my cheeks. “You think I was wrong to fight for you?”

“I think you risked everything unnecessarily,” Mom says sadly.

“Your career, your reputation, your medical license. I think you acted without considering the consequences, and now, you’re in over your head.

I think you’re your father’s daughter, and you’re going to end up regretting this the same way Thomas did. ”

My breath catches in my throat. “What?”

“Your father took liberties at work, too,” she says vaguely. “He did things he shouldn’t have done.”

“You knew.” The realization is a slap in the face. “Oh, God. You knew what he was doing.”

“Wait.” Mom’s face goes pale and slack. “What do you think he was doing?”

But I can’t explain. Not when I need answers myself. I shake my head, backing away from her bed, allowing myself to feel real anger toward her for the first time since her diagnosis.

“He was a fraud!” I scream. “A liar and a murderer! He was stealing organs from his patients—people who trusted him, people who requested him specifically for their surgeries! It’s bad enough that he did what he did, but knowing that you knew about it and did nothing…”

My legs start to give out. I reach for the bed frame but my hands are shaking too badly to find purchase. Just as I’m about to hit the floor, strong hands catch me.

Kovan’s hands. Hands that have dragged me into nightmares. Hands that have held me through nightmares.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

I collapse against him, sobs ripping from my chest with such violence that my ribs ache. Mom struggles to sit up, her own cheeks wet with tears.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you knew…”

“I was hoping you didn’t know,” I say through my tears. “I thought if you were in the dark about his crimes, that would justify why you stayed with him all those years. It would explain why you still loved him.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Mom’s voice breaks. “You don’t just stop loving someone because they do terrible things. He was the love of my life, my soulmate. I didn’t approve of what he was doing. I begged him to stop, but?—”

“He didn’t stop!”

“He couldn’t stop, Vesper.” She’s crying harder now, her frail body shaking with the force of it. “He wanted to quit in the end. He tried to make a clean break?—”

“There’s nothing clean about murdering hundreds of innocent people!” I cry out. “There’s no coming back from that!”

“I know,” she gasps. “I know.”

Kovan’s arms tighten around me, supporting most of my weight. “Why didn’t he just stop?” I demand. “Why didn’t he walk away?”

“He’d gotten involved with dangerous people, Vesper. You don’t just quit when you’re dealing with them.”

“Your mother’s right,” interjects Kovan. “He couldn’t have stopped. My father would never have allowed it.”

I tear myself out of his embrace.

What am I doing? Seeking comfort from a man who’s just as morally compromised as my father was? A man who represents everything I should be running from?

Is this why I fell for Kovan in the first place? Because some sick part of me was drawn to the familiar pattern of loving a criminal? Was I trying to rewrite my parents’ story, to somehow fix what my father broke?

“Ves—” He reaches for me, but I stumble backward.

“No! Don’t touch me!” I turn blindly toward the door, needing to escape this room, these revelations, the crushing weight of understanding. “Just leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone!”

I flee down the hospital corridor, but I can’t outrun the truth.

I’m my mother’s daughter, loving a man who kills people.

I’m my father’s daughter, destroying lives to save the ones I love most.

I’m a monster.

I’m a killer.

I’m a beast.

I am the walking damned—and I deserve everything that’s coming to me.