happened again—she deserved to be loved and protected every day of her life. God knew she had suffered enough already, and he felt strangely guilty that here she was, yet again in this position.
But now was not the time.
“I will see you soon.”
“Soon, Pav,” she promised.
Good enough.
Surely that would keep him from killing Vadim until they got there. Wouldn’t it? Pav passed a look over his shoulder at the bleeding man in the chair who was currently glaring at him like he was ready to get out of his seat.
The asshole could try it. And no, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t kill him.
That was promising too much.
• • •
Pav was a caged animal.
He paced like one, back and forth in the hotel room alone. He wouldn’t even allow Kolya to come in and sit with him as they waited. He stared out the windows, looking for any sign of movement, as though they were bars that he was peering through and he was waiting for his captor to come back.
The slightest noise outside of the door would make him jump. He’d never been this jittery or restless. He’d been on his feet for hours—days, actually, if he thought about it. Trying to remember how much he had slept the last several days was pointless because it wasn’t anything worth knowing. An hour, maybe, if he totaled it all together.
Nothing good.
Earlier, Kolya had thought to point out that it might be smarter if Pav allowed someone in his room to give him company. Someone to talk to, no, Kolya said. Pav was damn close to throwing one of his knives at the man for that because no, he did not want anyone near him right now unless their fucking name was Viktoria Boykov.
End. Of.
Kolya left him alone after that.
Thankfully.
He assumed that Kolya, like the rest of the people who knew him, was so accustomed to Pav being the silent figure in the corner. The one who never spoke, or rarely, and when he did it was always quiet and with few words. They weren’t used to seeing him anxious and pacing like a fucking animal. They didn’t know how to handle or deal with him when he was ready to bring a hell of a lot of pain to anyone who got too close.
So, Kolya left him alone.
Smart, really.
The sound of a car door slamming sent Pav flying across the room to the window. He was too late to see whoever it was that the car had dropped off, though, because by the time he got the curtains moved aside so he could look down at the street below, the car was pulling away and no one was standing on the sidewalk.
Fuck.
They should be here soon. Their flight should have landed already. It was driving him absolutely crazy.
Pav could not remember a time when he felt more out of control than he did in those moments. Backing away from the window, he tipped his head back and stared hard at the ceiling up above. He scrubbed his hands down his jaw, the feeling of his thick facial hair scraping against his palms reminding him that he needed a shave.
He needed a lot of fucking things.
None of them were here right now, though.
Not a single one—
“I didn’t take you for a praying man, Pavel.”
That thing in his chest?
That thing that beat?
That kept him alive?
It stopped.
Altogether quit.
All it took was the sound of Viktoria’s sweet voice behind and his heart jumped in his chest like someone had fucking shocked it. It stopped beating for a split second, and then it restarted, beating twice as hard as it ever had before.
He spun on his heels, and there she was.
Standing just beyond the door of the hotel where Kolya had set them up until Konstantin and Viktoria could arrive in Russia, there she was.
She smiled a little, like she could read his mind and all the craziness that was happening up there. Without looking away from him, she reached back and shut the hotel door. It was only then, right before the door closed, that he could hear the familiar voices of her brothers filtering out in the hallway.
He didn’t care about them.
Not right now.
Viktoria pulled off the leather gloves keeping her pretty hands hidden and worked on undoing the buttons of her tweed jacket. Pav took that moment to check her over, his gaze drifting over the column of her neck, and the lines of her face. She was bruised—makeup did wonders, but