Page 52

MIA

FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER

By the time I make it to the yacht, everything’s on fire.

It’s like watching those final minutes in Titanic. Bodies hitting the water, screams echoing all the way to the beach. The boat is sinking, swallowed up by the black waves below. I’ve never felt so helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

Yulian’s on there. It’s all I can think. He’s on that boat.

I can hear sirens in the distance, police and ambulances, but they sound so far away. They’ll never make it in time. I know how these things work—first aid can be very quick or very slow, depending on the hour, traffic, how soon the call came in.

Tonight, the streets are busier than usual. But even if that wasn’t the case… if help was minutes, seconds away…

That boat is still sinking. It’s sinking fast—too fast.

Which means they’ll be too late.

Panic rises within me. I rush along the beach, looking for a boat I can use. Anything, really, to get closer. I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him. I still need to tell him…

Then I see him.

Yulian, gasping on the pier.

For a moment, all I can feel is relief. Sweet, boundless relief. If Yulian’s here, then he’s not on the boat. He isn’t burning, isn’t drowning. He’s safe.

Except that he’s not.

My vision adjusts to the dark. The full picture comes to me, in horrifying bits and pieces.

Desya’s face. Desya’s crazed, mad sneer. His foot on Yulian’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground. He’s crushing Yulian’s arm, and Yulian…

He isn’t fighting back.

But that makes no sense. Yulian always fights back. He always has to have the last word, throw the last punch. So, if he’s not doing that now…

It means he can’t.

He’s hurt . He must be.

Has he been shot? I try to look, but it’s too dark, too far. Is his arm broken? Is that why ? —?

I walk closer to the pier, and that’s when I see the gun in Desya’s hand.

My breath stops. I stare at the weapon with horror. A black, shiny thing, its mouth digging into Yulian’s forehead.

I need to help him. Fear crests through me, cold and clawing. I need to ? —

Then my foot hits something on the ground.

Another gun.

Yulian’s gun.

I pick it up before I can think. I’ve never shot anyone before. Never thought I’d have to. Or, God forbid, want to.

But right now, I have no idea what I want. No clue of what I’m truly capable of. When I threatened Brad this morning, it was all posturing. Regardless of the outcome, I never would have pulled the trigger on his execution.

But now, I feel the difference in my fingertips. In my gut. I know, as I tighten my grip on cold steel, that this is far, far from posturing.

No matter what oaths I swore…

… I’ll kill to save my family.

“Get away from my fiancé.”

For a second, I forget that’s not what we are. Not anymore. Because I broke it off. Because I was too wounded to forgive him.

But at that moment, I know: I could never live without him.

Yulian, who’s as stubborn as he is kind. Yulian, who never wants anyone to see his soft side. Yulian, who plays up the worst in him so you’d never guess there was a better part, a brighter part, hidden under the surface.

Yulian, who saved me when he didn’t even know me. Who kept saving me over and over, against every logic, every interest. I was bad for business, bad for his reputation as pakhan, and he still chose me. Every freaking time, he chose me.

Now, it’s my turn to choose him.

So I give the warning. I give another.

Desya laughs. Like he doesn’t think I’ll do it. Like he doesn’t think I can.

I don’t think I can, either.

Until I do.

I pull the trigger. Once, twice, three times—until the clicks come up empty.

There’s a quiet moment of surprise in him. As if he thinks I might have shot him full of blanks instead of lead. Desya looks down at his own chest, touches the gaping wounds I’ve put there. His palm comes away wet.

Then he’s falling into the water.

I’ve seen people die before. In my line of work, we lose patients every day. Patients who don’t get to us in time, with conditions too far advanced for us to do anything. You fight it with all you’ve got, but there’s nothing you can do. It’s frustrating; it’s heartbreaking.

I never thought I’d do that to a person.

But tonight, I did.

Not for my kids. Not for myself. For the man I love.

Desya Bogdanov’s body disappears into the water. Bubbles break the surface, first an army, then a trickle. Soon, everything’s still again, the bay as silent as the grave.

I look for regret, but there is none. There’s no regret at all.