Page 37 of Bratva Prince
“Fuck.”
I tried waking her. Hell, I even tried slapping her, but she was out cold. “Willow,” I begged, shaking her. “Please wake up.” There was a desperation in my voice that even I didn’t recognize.
Doing the only thing left I could think to do, I grabbed a bowl from my emergency pack and filled it with seawater.
Please let this work.
I poured the water over her head, waiting for a reaction.
She jerked forward, coughing and spitting as if she’d been choked by the water itself.Drama queen.Breathing out a sigh of relief, I hunched down beside her, my hand involuntarily reaching for hers.
“What the hell?” she asked, her hair matted down as water dripped along her face and shoulders.
I couldn’t even speak—I just grabbed her and pulled her into my chest, squeezing her tight against me. “I wasn’t sure you’d wake up.” My voice was muffled by her hair as I buried my face into her neck. Her arms hung limply by her sides, unsure how to react.
I didn’t care. She was alive, and that was what mattered.
Releasing my hold on her, I stood, grabbing some water for her to drink. “You have a bump on your head, probably from the crash.”
She rubbed her arm and winced. “Ah, my elbow doesn’t feel that great, either.”
“That would be from when you fell and hit the table.” Her face twisted in anger, probably remembering I’d drugged her. I added, “If it makes you feel any better, I hit the table when the plane jerked.”
Willow stared at the water, hesitant to drink it. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s not drugged.”
She narrowed her eyes and took a small taste before downing the entire contents. It wasn’t a wise thing to do—drinking the water so fast and finishing it off—but she needed to hydrate. I hope she enjoyed it because after that, we’d be conserving.
“I’m going to check out what’s left in the plane. I didn’t get to yesterday because it was getting dark and we needed shelter.”
Trying to stand, she wobbled and lost her balance, hitting the sand. I extended a hand but she waved me away, using the tree to pull herself up. By the time she stood, she was glazed with sweat.
“Alright,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I’m ready.”
I eyed her body that clung to the tree for support. “Are you sure you can handle it? You seem a little—”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, cutting me off. “Let’s go.”
Each step she limped, and I rushed to her side to help her walk, but she shooed me away, insistent she do it herself.
I relented, keeping close by in case she needed me, but after a few minutes, she was walking almost normal—still a little wobbly, like a baby deer learning to walk, but steady enough to do it without me.
My own leg was throbbing, but I pushed through the pain and forced myself to keep going. Pretty sure a piece of metal from the crash had sliced into it, but I was unconscious when it happened, so I wasn’t sure. All I knew was when I woke up, it was bleeding. It took me a while to notice because I was so distracted with assessing the situation, but the pain had steadily increased overnight. I’d need to re-wrap it soon.
When we reached the wreck, I stared up at the tree and the plane that was lodged in it. A sharp throb pierced through my leg at the thought of climbing that tree.
My eyes scanned the scene, landing on the half that was on the ground. That was where I found Andrey. Today, I’d bury his body. I didn’t trust animals not to come take him away in the night to gnaw on his flesh, the mere thought so grotesque that I had to shove it away.
Forcing myself to look away, I focused on the plane itself. My jet was gone. Demolished. Ripped apart. I sighed and mumbled, “Poor Mrs. Robinson.”
“Who’s Mrs. Robinson,” Willow asked from behind me in an accusatory tone. “Another woman from the beach?”
I scoffed, shooting her a glare. “My jet, asshole.”
She snorted, laughing as she rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You’re kidding, right? You named your jet?” Though the words came off as judgmental, she had the same teasing tone she’d had in Crete—and her expression was that of humor with her eyebrow quirked and her hands on her hips.
“I name all my treasures with engines,” I answered, totally serious.
Willow only laughed some more, and I had to admit, it was nice to hear. I could listen to her laugh all day.
