Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You didn’t shoot him in the face, did you?” Adrian asked. “They have to be able to identify the body.”
“No,” Lev answered. “Look. I stopped his heart, but he’ll be good in the coffin.”
Lev had been the one. He’d leaned inside and killed me.
My best friend.
I heard them walking away, the sound of leather-soled shoes scraping over asphalt. I was freezing, inside and out, losing blood fast. And I was in pain, but as dramatic as it might sound, it was my soul that was bleeding the worst. I hurt down deep.
Years of trust and friendship, and then Lev had seen me, in pain, dying, and made the choice to rush me to the grave with a final bullet. The betrayal, his apathy, should have killed me right then and there.
All three of them, Lev, Adrian, and Stas, had left me to spend my final moments alone. As the veil of darkness swallowed me, I saw them drive away through the now fragmented windshield.
The why was thundering in my head. What happened when I wasn’t looking? How had I failed them so badly that they would turn on me? Why were they compelled to leave me to die?
It was quiet, so quiet. Faintly, I heard sirens, and then I was jostled hard, shards of pain tearing through my body. My scream was barely a whisper.
“Good,” Sava said gently. “Alive is good.”
But I wasn’t sure that was true.
It was the last thought I had.
THREE
It was bright when I opened my eyes, but not from hospital lights. Sun filtered in through gauzy ivory curtains.
Glancing around, I realized I’d never been in this room in my life. It was lovely, warm, with one brown wall—the accent wall—where there was a large gilded mirror and pictures of hunting dogs flanking it. The other walls were more of a bisque, and the covers I was under were in various shades of brown. No one who knew me would have thought I could even describe those colors, but my mother was a painter and always spoke to me about ecru, never beige or off-white. It was chartreuse or celadon, never simply green.
Looking to my left, I saw a woman I didn’t know, but since she had scrubs on, I was guessing she was a nurse.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. She turned from her phone at that same time, took her right AirPod out of her ear, and smiled.
“You’re awake, dorogoi,” she greeted me. “Let me get you some water and I’ll call him in to speak to you.”
I really needed to know whom she meant, but my voice was not cooperating. I needed a gun, something to defend myself with, but then I realized, I was alive for a reason. Whoever had me, hopefully wasn’t making me well just to murder me.
She got up and left the room, and I had what felt like an hour to contemplate my fate, but in reality, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes. When the door opened again, she came through first with a huge tumbler like the ones from Starbucks, with a cover and a straw sticking out. Behind her, right on her heels, was Sava.
I wasn’t as relieved as I would have normally been, since just recently my best friend had left me to die in a crumpled car in the middle of the road.
“Very good,” Sava greeted me, walking around the bed, carrying a laptop. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, then took a seat in the chair beside my bed. “This is Sherry. She’s the one who’s been taking care of you. Lucky for us, the glass in your side hit nothing important, and the doctor who examined you sewed you up and said you will recover well.”
I tipped my head sideways to my shoulder.
“The bullet went in and out, nothing to worry about,” he said like I shouldn’t have even brought it up.
But it was trauma to my body that had already lost so much blood. I wasn’t so sure of his diagnosis.
All my focus went to Sherry then as she bent, got the straw in my mouth from the tumbler she’d carried in, and told me to sip slowly. As I did, my throat coated with liquid, and I realized it was the best water I’d ever had in my life.
“Speak,” I pleaded, and Sava nodded, then turned to his side and moved one of those rolling hospital tables that fit above the bed over to me. He placed a laptop there, opened it, and then sat me up with more tenderness than I’d ever seen from him. Gently, he leaned me forward as Sherry set the tumbler down I’d been drinking from before stuffing pillows behind my back.
It didn’t hurt—I was guessing the IV in my arm was responsible for that. What I did realize when they moved me was that I had a catheter in me.