“No.” I shoved my hand out, catching the door’s edge. The impact sent a jolt of pain up my wrist, but I held the door firm. “Who will I be working for?”
He spun so fast I nearly stumbled backward. His jaw flexed, fists balled like he was seconds from punching the wall. But before the words could leave his mouth, he stilled, like his own body betrayed him. His face twitched. One hand lifted to his temple, pressing in like he was fighting something sharp. His eyes closed, and for a second, he swayed slightly enough that I saw it.
He turned back to me after recovering. “I told you to leave.”
“About the job.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he snapped, voice breaking through the air like a crack of a whip. His finger aimed at the door. “If I blink and you’re still in this room, I swear to God, I’ll—”
Artur staggered. Blood trickled down from his nose, trailing to the corner of his lip.
My eyes widened. “Sir… you’re bleeding.”
His breathing was off now. His balance shifted, like the ground under him tilted. I took a step toward him, but his voice stopped me.
“Don’t come closer.” His voice cracked, unable to mask the tremor underneath. But I took another step toward him. “I said, get out!”
The rapid rise and fall of his chest reminded me of those episodes I caught him experiencing. He was struggling. I knew the signs. And this wasn’t just a bad day.
“Sir?” I called.
My voice was tight with confusion, fear, and panic, but he didn’t answer me. He turned instead, almost staggering toward the bathroom door. His hand caught the edge of the frame just as his legs faltered.
His fingertips left a bloody trail wherever they landed. Drops of red hit the tile beneath him. I rushed to him when his knee buckled. He collapsed down hard on one knee, his breath tearing out of his lungs like the air had turned to fire. His hands fumbled at his shirt, yanking at the fabric like it choked him.
My hand grazed his shoulder. “Let me help you.”
He reacted in a blink. With a vicious snarl, his arm shot out. He slammed my shoulder and shoved me backward with an unmeasured force. My body crashed into the wall. The breath whooshed out of me, a sting flaring in my shoulder and arm. I gasped, clutching the spot, but I didn’t stop.
Tears blurred my vision as I heaved myself upright. He was on both knees now, hunched forward, his fingers clawing at thebuttons of his shirt. His skin had gone pale, and his lips tinged a sickly blue.
Sweat clung to his brow. Blood still trickled down his face. He looked like he was fighting death tooth and nail, but losing. I dropped to my knees in front of him, my chest heaving.
“Wait. I’m trying to help you.” My voice cracked from the panic lodged in my throat. “Let me help—”
My hands moved instinctively, wiping the blood from his lips and chin with my palm. He was fading, and looking at him with blurry eyes, a memory lodged in my head, clear as day. And I heard him say that his name was Rodion. Rodion Konstantinov.
His strength ebbed as he shifted until his back slid along the wall. He slumped, legs stretched, and eyes dimming. His breaths came out in shallow bursts. His head lolled slightly, and I could see he was about to lose consciousness. I scrambled to the drawer where I’d seen the breather. My hands fumbled as I opened one drawer and grabbed the breather mask. I returned to him and pressed the mask to his face, but he caught my wrist with a surprising force for a dying man.
His eyes met mine. They were glassy now.
“Leave,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “Just leave, Alessia…”
“Rodion,” I choked. “I’m not leaving.”
His grip tightened. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, leave.”
Tears streamed down my face. I held the mask firm against his nose and mouth, my fingers trembling. His breaths were uneven, catching in his chest, but I refused to move. I pressed closer.
“Breathe,” I murmured. His hand was still tight on my wrist. I reached up with my free hand, wiping my tears as they fell. “I just want to help you.”
His eyes stayed locked on mine. And the air between us felt thick with fear, helplessness, fury, and vulnerability. I wasshaking. Not just from fear anymore, but from how close I was to watching him die. How raw and human he suddenly looked. And I couldn’t bear it.
He inhaled slowly this time. And I stayed there, watching the man everyone feared slowly claw his way back from the brink, and praying to God he didn’t let go.
His fingers finally loosened around my wrist. They slipped away, ghosting my skin like an aftershock, and curled around the breather mask. He peeled it off as if that simple motion cost him more than he had to give.
I didn’t move as he dropped the mask with a thud, then got up and walked into the bathroom. I remained kneeling on the cold floor, my spine rigid and hands clenched tightly in my skirt. My heart thundered in my chest. I blinked, lowering my gaze to my palms.