Page 78 of Sinful Union

The relief I feel at the sight of my daughter, unharmed after what just happened, is indescribable.

Kat lets out a sob. “Ana!” She runs forward, and our daughter leaps from the tub, launching into her mother’s arms.

“Mama!” Ana cries. Kat holds her tight, tears pouring down her face. My vision blurs with unexpected emotion. After everything, we found her safe.

Camille sinks onto the bathtub’s edge, pressing a hand to her mouth as if stifling a sob. “I told her it was hide-and-seek,” she murmurs. “Told her not to open the door for anyone. They threatened me, but I wouldn’t speak.”

Kat, still clutching Ana, manages a broken thank you, leaning in to hug Camille with one arm.

My chest aches with gratitude.

I brush my palm across Ana’s hair. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She sniffles, burying her face against Kat’s neck. “I was so scared,” she mumbles.

Kat soothes her with gentle strokes over her back. “It’s over,” she whispers. “No more shooting.”

Camille stands, pushing her hair back. “What about Piotr?”

Kat’s face crumples. I look at Camille and mouth the wordsHe’s gone.

Camille closes her eyes, nodding in resigned understanding as Kat carries Ana out of the bathroom.

“He tried to kill you, didn’t he?”

I nod. “Yes, and he seriously hurt Vlad. He’s on his way to the hospital now.”

Ana shifts in Kat’s arms as Camille and I enter the bedroom. She glances up at us with wide, worried eyes. She recognizes the names, picking up on the tension. “Where’s Uncle Vlad?”

“Getting help,” Kat says, giving her a brave smile that wavers at the edges. “He’ll be okay.”

We hope.

“We should leave. Go somewhere that isn’t a damn war zone.”

Kat nods, swallowing hard. She turns to Camille, noticing the bruises again. “You need medical attention, too.”

Camille shakes her head firmly. “I’m fine, truly. It’s just a bruise. Let’s get Ana out of this place.”

I exhale a long sigh of relief. Ana and Camille are safe.

As we head out into the corridor, several of my men pass us. Kat keeps a protective arm around Ana’s face, shielding her from the mayhem. We head to the stairs, carefully stepping over broken frames and debris, bullet casings, and shattered furniture. The smell of smoke and blood is overpowering.

At last, we reach the ground floor, stepping into the once-grand foyer. Doors hang off twisted hinges, splintered wood and glass lay everywhere. The fight is done, but the cleanup is far from over.

Just outside the kitchen, a make-shift triage has been set up. Vlad is there on a stretcher, an IV bag hanging next to him, the line set firmly into the thick vein on his hand. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, as I thought he would have been well on his way to the hospital by now.

Camille hovers next to him for a brief moment, then gently rubs Ana’s back. “Come with me, hmm?” she whispers to her. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

Ana hesitates, glancing at Kat. Kat nods, gently transferring her to Camille, shielding her view of Vlad. “Stay close,” she tells them both.

As they head toward the terrace, I focus on Vlad. Kat bends over him, gripping his uninjured hand. “Are you okay?” she asks.

He winces as he offers a weak smile. “Been better,” he croaks.

Sergei, one of the medics, a burly man with a kind face, tapes fresh bandages over his shoulder wound. “He was lucky,” Sergei says. “The bullet passed through his shoulder clean. He’s lost a lot of blood, and he has several broken ribs. We’re going to take him to the hospital in a few minutes.”

Kat bows her head, pressing her forehead to Vlad’s good hand. “You’ll be alright,” she insists, voice quivering. He closes his eyes, nodding faintly.

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