Page 82 of In Her Blood
Evelina slid her free hand up Otto’s chest until she could hook her fingers over his shirt collar. She had the wild impulse to kiss him amidst the chaos, but she resisted. Instead, she tugged him close enough to be heard and said, “Let’s go get your dad.”
He blinked at her. “Lina, it’s not safe—”
She flicked at his chest. “It’s never safe. We came here to save him, right? So, let’s do that. We can grab Grisha after.” And to make sure he listened, she pushed herself upright.
Otto grunted his displeasure but allowed her to lead him forward, keeping his body tight at her back. She imagined his head was swiveling back and forth, too.
It was probably a dozen feet, but with the flying bullets and the interruption of one crashing body, it may as well have been a mile.
Otto finally released her hand when they reached his father and rounded the pole to get to work on the thick rope coiled around Iouri’s body. “We’re gonna get you outta here, Pa.”
Evelina eased the gag from Iouri’s mouth before reaching for his nearest hand. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Voronin. We’ll get you taken care of, okay? I’ll take care of everything.” She suddenly felt like crying again and she hadn’t at all been prepared for that.
Iouri coughed roughly and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Don’t cry for me, Lina,” he said, his voice raspier than usual. “I’ll pull through. This … isn’t your fault.”
It was. It totally was.
His fingers twitched, and his good eye flicked past her. “Otto!”
The warning came too late. Even as Evelina saw Otto’s head snap up, she felt a sharp tug on her hair, knuckles grinding against her scalp as she was hauled forcefully up and backward. It hurt too much to keep from crying out, or perhaps that was her own weakness, because she wasn’t used to such pain. The tears in her eyes had built for another reason, but they leaked free as her ankle twisted on the hard ground and her scalp burned with the rough maneuvering.
“Lina!”
She tried to reach up, to get her assailant off her, but as she moved, so did he. He twisted her around remorselessly, nearly snapping her neck with the force of his movement, and then he’d dropped his hold of her hair in favor of flattening her against him with what could only be the blade of a knife pressing into her spine. She was breathless, physically stunned, and wholly aware that if she leaned back in the slightest the sharp object at her back would slice her open.
But she’d never wanted to be so close to Grisha, even before she knew he was a Morozov. Or secretly fucking her fake best friend.
How does he get worse the more I learn about him?
Grisha smirked down at her as if he didn’t care at all that their bodies were pressed inappropriately together. “I’ll giveyou credit, Evelina. I didn’t think you’d make me work for this. But it’s over.”
She felt the knife touch her skin, cool for just a second before a sharp sting assured he’d drawn blood. She held in her grimace, refusing to let him see the discomfort. The fear. She couldn’t move at all without incurring more injury and she knew it. But she’d be damned if she broke on the precipice of defeat.
Grisha’s eyes lit with more life than she could ever remember seeing in them and he dipped his head, as if to make sure she heard his next words. “It was dissatisfying, blowing Pyotr’s face off the way I did. So I want to watch yours carefully as the life drains from you, and the last of the Nikolaevs leaves this world.”
No sooner had her gut dissolved through her feet than Grisha’s eyes snapped up and she felt the stinging pressure at her back pull away. The retreat was uncomfortable, but far from terrible. No worse than kneeling on glass, really.
Grisha began to snarl something.
Evelina moved to pull her feet properly beneath her before the lack of his arm at her back could cause her to fall.
Otto hauled her away, out of Grisha’s reach, fingers brushing lightly over her back for a moment before he crushed her to him until she felt as though she might disappear in his arms. Which was not at all unappealing. But he didn’t let the embrace linger, blowing out a breath before adjusting her so that her back was to his chest and she was facing the room.
And then she understood.
Someone she didn’t know had hold of Grisha’s arm. Romeo had moved in and steadied a gun at Grisha’s temple. As she watched, Dante was striding over, arms at his sides and blood splattered like paint across his shirt.
Dante walked around Grisha and moved his gaze to her. “How bad is it?”
She shook her head. “Feels like a scratch.”
“We should get it covered before it gets infected,” Otto said, as if each word were a strain.
Dante inclined his head before facing the others. “Enzo, grab the first aid kit.”
“Sure thing, Boss,” one of the men Evelina recognized as having arrived with her cousins replied.
Somehow, it was only as he turned away that Evelina realized how quiet everything had become. The fighting was practically over. Except, at least, for the mostly silent struggle surrounding Grisha.
