Page 102 of City Of Thieves
But it’s not a kill shot.
It’s a gift he’s placing at his father’s feet, one who is now pleading and begging for his life.
Gianni levels his gun between his eyes. “Per mio figlio,” he mutters, then fires a single shot.
For my son.
With the danger now eliminated, I kick my heels off and sprint to the other side of the church, with Renzo’s exhausted voice trailing after me.
I search every pew, dropping down to my hands and knees to slide across the slate tiles in my haste to locate her.
Stumbling across to the next aisle to check under another line of pews, I freeze when I come face to face with the same tear-stained gray eyes that flutter through my mind constantly.
Anastasia.
We stare at each other, neither of us moving or blinking.
“Hi,” I whisper.
She just gazes at me.
“Are you okay?”
She’s shaking like a leaf, clutching a brown bear to her chest as a shield, and clearly terrified by all the shouting and gunfire.
Then, something miraculous happens… Something that blows a hole in my heart and lets all the sunshine in.
She smiles.
And even though it’s sadness and happiness and fear and confusion, it’s ours to keep and ours to cherish.
She knows who I am.
She remembers.
“I won’t hurt you,” I say softly, slipping into Russian. “I’m here to take you home.”
She stares at me again, and then she’s crawling out from under the pew and curling herself into my arms, wrapping her tiny fists around my neck as I breathe her in as deeply as I breathe in Renzo.
“Tatiana, where the fuck are you?” Staggering up the aisle, he stops when he sees me lying on the floor with my daughter in my arms.
Anastasia takes one look at him and burrows her face in my chest, whimpering in fear.
I try to view him through her eyes then, and when I do, I see a huge man with bruises all over his face, a gun in his hand, and blood streaming down his arm.
But I also know what’s beneath his surface, and it’s just as beautiful as she is.
“Don’t be scared, Anastasia,” I whisper into her hair as Renzo chucks his gun away and drops to his knees in front of us. “Do you see those bruises on his face? That’s from when he fought the monster to find us. Do you see that blood on his skin?” She turns her head in curiosity but keeps her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. “That’s from when he fought the dragon to set us free… And do you see those black eyes, my angel? That’s where he keeps all the darkness, so you’ll never have to know anything but light again.”
Climbing off my lap, she stands in front of him, looking so small in comparison, her wary eyes flickering over every part of him as she carefully considers my words. She reaches out to brush her finger across his silver scars, and he stays as still as a statue.
“Do they hurt?” she asks in broken English.
“They did,” he says, his eyes drifting across to me. “But not anymore.”
She nods like she understands, and I want to hug her a little tighter for it.
We leave the church together, with Anastasia wrapped up in Renzo’s arms. They’re walking a couple of feet in front of me, and I keep hearing snatches of Russian and English. They might not understand one another yet, but it’s like they’re falling into step already.
