Page 286 of Ruins
Covered in blood.
Tears carve rivers down her pale cheeks, her eyes shut tight, as if she’s trying to disappear.
She’s shaking.
So violently that I fear she might break apart right in front of me.
“Vasilisa,” I gasp, securing my gun and lunging for her.
Then stop short and crouch down toward her, terrified that any sudden movement might shatter her completely.
“Dea, it’s me.”
Her body jerks at the sound of my voice.
Her eyes snap open.
Wide, frightened.
For a second, I see nothing but panic, until it ebbs away to recognition. Her body reacts before her mind does. She throws herself at me, crashing into my chest with enough force to knock the breath out of me.
I catch her, my arms wrapping around her trembling body, holding her so tightly that I feel the way her ribs shudder with every ragged sob.
“Shh,” I murmur into her hair, pressing my lips against her temple. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
My relief is short-lived. The blood.
So much blood.
A fresh wave of dread floods my veins. I jerk back, frantic, my hands moving over her arms, her waist, her throat, searching, hoping that it isn’t hers.
No wounds.
Nothing.
And then the realization slams into me. The blood isn’t hers.
It’stheirs.
The menshekilled.
My courageous, unstoppable wife defeated them herself.
She fought them off.
I hold her closer. Her trembling lessens as she clutches onto me, burying herself into the crook of my neck, as if she can disappear into me.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I murmur hoarsely, lifting her into my arms.
She doesn’t resist. She just wraps her legs around me, tucking herself closer as I step out of the elevator.
I cast a sweeping glance around the room, taking in the carnage—the bodies, the blood, the absolute violation of our home.
A fresh wave of anger coils inside me. She had to fight for her life tonight. She’s no stranger to danger, but this… this is something else entirely.
“You did good,” I whisper into her hair. I’m proud. Terrified. Both at once.
Footsteps.
