Page 230 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
We move through the corridor slowly. Too slowly. The hospital lights are harsh, making everything too white, too clean. Somewhere, a child cries. Somewhere else, a man coughs wetly behind a curtain. Normal suffering, ordinary suffering, while outside this building my husband is preparing to bring war to his father’s door.
At the nurses’ station, a young doctor looks up. “Where are you taking her?”
“Radiology,” the nurse says without blinking.
“At this hour?”
The nurse just shrugs, not giving her a response.
Viktor pushes me forward. At the far end of the hallway, a side exit waits.
Beyond that, a car.
Beyond that, Yaromir.
I close my eyes for one second. I see him dancing with me in golden light.
I hear the gunshot.
Then I open my eyes.
I’m coming, Yaromir.
34
YAROMIR
The front hallis full of smoke within seconds.
Gunfire cracks against marble and wood. Men shout over each other from the upper landing. Glass rains from the chandelier as a bullet clips one of the hanging crystals, sending it spinning wildly above us.
The house I was never allowed to enter properly is now breaking around me.
I move behind a stone pillar as shots tear through the space where I stood half a second ago. Two of Kirill’s men fire from the balcony. Alexei drops to one knee beside me, aims upward, and shoots one of them through the shoulder. The man falls back with a shout, crashing into a side table.
“Left corridor!” Alexei yells.
I turn in time to see three men coming from the dining room, guns raised.
I fire twice. One drops. The second ducks back. The third keeps coming until I put him down near the Persian runner Galina once told my mother she would never be allowed to walk on.
The memory is brief. I have no room for it.
My men push into the hall behind me. Kirill’s men answer from the staircase, the gallery, the rooms on both sides. The old house won’t survive a night like this.
A bullet punches into the wall near my head. Plaster sprays across my face. I keep moving.
“Clear the west wing,” I tell Alexei.
“And you?”
“Upstairs.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Don’t follow me.”
Naturally, he follows.
