floor beside me with a heavy ‘thunk,’ spitting the chunk of his finger out of my mouth and gagging on the taste of him.
“It’s all right, Elena. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
The voice murmuring reassurances at me is thick with a Russian accent, sending a fresh wave of fear and adrenaline through me.
“No!” I scream, skittering away from the heavy hand that falls onto my bare shoulder. “Get away! Don’t touch me!”
I press against the wall, drawing my knees up to my chest and staring over them to find Oleg crouched in front of me. He’s holding an AK-47 in one hand, but the muzzle is lowered toward the floor and his face is a mask of horror and pity as he looks me over.
“It’s all right, little one,” he murmurs, working one arm out of his suit jacket, then switching the gun to his opposite hand to finish shedding the garment. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to save you. Your husband is here, finishing off the traitors who worked with my son. They didn’t just betray you and Diego, dorogoy. They betrayed me too.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper, my voice low and weak. My throat is on fire and I can’t even tell where the pain plaguing my body is coming from anymore. “I don’t want to hear that word ever again.”
Oleg nods in understanding, gently taking hold of my shoulder to urge me to my feet. I don’t resist when he slips his jacket over my shoulders, partially hiding my half-naked body from view.
“Diego,” I whimper, as he wraps an arm around my waist and holds me against the side of his bulky body. “I need … where …”
“Shhh,” Oleg croons, patting me like a father comforting a crying child. “He’s here, little one. He’ll take you home and everything will be all right.”
For the first time I notice that the house above us has gone silent. Clinging to Oleg, I let him help me up the stairs. It’s slow going, but we eventually step into what turns out to be a sprawling beach house in a modern design. I squeeze my eyes shut against the sting of harsh, white light, but the stench of death penetrates my senses. The scent of blood and burning smoke coats the air, and beyond my blurred vision I see mangled and broken bodies littering the floor.
Diego’s voice snatches me back from the brink of oblivion. “Where is she? Elena! Oh my God … Elena!”
I find him rushing toward me, his white T-shirt stained with blood and bits of what might be someone’s brains. His face is speckled with more droplets, and his skin has gone ashen at the sight of me, his eyes wide and wild.
“I found her in the basement with Viktor,” Oleg says, gently handing me over to my husband. “He … I’m sorry, moy drug. What I witnessed isn’t fit for conversation.”
Diego handles me with care, sweeping me off my feet. But I can feel the violence thrumming through him, hear the rage in his shaking voice.
“Where is he?”
I assume he’s referring to Viktor but can’t bring myself to care. The conversation starts to sound like it’s coming from far away as my hold on the world begins to slip. Oleg says something in response, but I understand none of it. My head falls against Diego’s chest, and I latch on to the sound of his heartbeat, fast and unsteady, but strong. I can’t even bring myself to care about the blood wetting my cheek. I take hold of his shirt, twisting it in my grip and holding on tight.
We’re moving now, Diego’s steps jolting me in his arms and sending fresh waves of pain through me. When I whimper, he tightens his hold on me and presses his lips to the top of my head.
“I’m sorry, gatita,” he says in a low, broken voice. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Sounds come from me, but I’m not sure I’m forming actual words. The warm, fresh air of the outdoors kisses my skin, and I hear ocean waves from somewhere in the distance.
“I have you now,” Diego says. “You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me? Nothing like this will ever happen to you again, I swear it.”
“Y-you … came,” I manage between the shudders wracking me. I think shock is setting in, or maybe it’s relief that has me feeling as if my soul is detaching from my body.