She sees enough in my face to go pale.
“There’s one last thing I have to do.”
“What?”
I don’t answer.
Her fingers tighten around mine. “Don’t do that.”
“I will come back.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you right now.”
“Yaromir.”
“I love you,” I say.
It’s unfair. I know it is. The words stop her long enough for me to leave.
Outside the room, Viktor is waiting.
I point to the door. “No one gets past you.”
His eyes narrow. “Where are you going?”
“You know.”
His face hardens. “I should come.”
“No. You brought her to me. Now keep her safe.”
He studies me for a moment. Then he nods once.
I leave six men in the corridor. Two at the elevator. Two near the stairwell. Two outside her door with Viktor. The hospital will complain. Let it. The city can complain after it survives the night.
I go home. The estate is dark when I enter. The staff has vanished, either sleeping or pretending to. My men remain outside, but I send them away from the east wing.
I go to the study.
The fire is unlit. I don’t turn on the lamps. I sit behind the desk in the dark and wait.
I don’t wait long.
Larisa enters without knocking.
As always.
She pauses just inside the doorway, her cane in one hand, her face half-hidden by shadow. “You’re alive,” she says.
“So is Anya.”
The silence after that is small but telling.
Too small for anyone else to notice. Enough for me.
Larisa comes farther inside. “That is fortunate.”