“I might have found a way to stay out of the war, but still be a soldier.”
“I hope it works out for you, Andrius, and if it’s a good opportunity, I hope you can persuade Konstantin.”
He shrugs. “K is a stubborn man, but now I think he has something worth being flexible for. Yes?”
He leaves, almost silent, as he walks out of the room, and I watch him go. He’s not a friend. I can’t call him that, but he is someone I am fond of, despite his scary demeanor.
A nurse comes into my bay. “We will be taking you up to the operating room in ten minutes. You’ll be given a sedative, and then a few moments later the general anesthetic. After the procedure, we will move you to recovery where your vitals will be monitored for an hour or so. Then back to your room. Do you have any allergies?”
I answer his questions, and he asks if I have any of my own. I don’t. I’d like to ask what’s the chance of dying, but daren’t. If it’s high, I’d rather not know.
As he leaves, he turns to me and says. “Don’t worry. Modern anesthetics are very safe.”
It’s as if he read my mind.
A little less nervous about the operation, I lie back and think about what Andrius said.
Hope fills me and I pray it’s not a false hope.
I pray that Andrius might have found a way out of this life, and that Konstantin will take it.
Chapter Seventeen
Konstantin
Cassie is recovering from her surgery. She has guards outside her room, thanks to Marcus. I’ve also got three of my men stationed in the stairwell, just in case. Told them to keep out of sight of the guards the authorities have put there as it doesn’t do to tread on too many toes. Not when they’re helping keep Cassie safe.
I’m exhausted, beat down, and worn out. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such a bone-deep tiredness.
Michael is safe. I talked to that up-himself shit Bianchi again, told him the threat level had been raised. I swear that bastard is enjoying this. Soon we’ll be family, and fuck me but not throttling him with my bare hands will take an act of supreme self-control.
I slump in a chair by the window, staring out of the orangery at dark nothingness. This is my favorite room in this house. In any house. It’s soothing in the day; now at night, with all the lights out so no one can see me and take a pot-shot, not so fucking much. The lights outside are blazing, bright and white.
Every now and again, an armed man passes by the window as they walk around the perimeter of the house. We called in everyone we could, and now this expensive home in the Parisian suburbs is more like a fortress under siege.
“You look like shit,” Andrius says as he comes to me, glass in hand.
I take the proffered drink gratefully and sip it. The burn is heaven.
“It’s dark; you can’t see me,” I reply.
“Can see enough from the light outside to see you look like shit.”
I sigh. “Feel like it, friend, to be honest.”
“Nothing like almost losing someone you love to do that for you.” He sits with a sigh and takes a sip of his own drink.
“I never said I love her,” I reply automatically.
He laughs. “Cut the shit, K. This is me. You might fool everyone else, hell you might even fool yourself, but you don’t fool me.”
“It can’t work,” I say. “Cassie won’t be with me if I stay in this life, and as you now know, leaving isn’t a reality”
“I think leaving is possible. I went about it the wrong way.”
God, sometimes he talks in riddles. “Andrius, as much as I enjoy your conversational style, I’m fucking shattered, so cut to the chase.”
He chuckles. “Okay. I left, and in doing so, in trying to be normal and live my fucking best life, I gave the impression I’d gone soft.”
“Where did you get the saying living your best life from?” I laugh as I sip more brandy. The drink and the presence of my friend soothes my jangled nerves a little.
“Violet.” He shrugs.
“You want to be careful you don’t end up having some sort of midlife crisis. Old man like you, with a young girl like that.”
He gives me a dark look. “My friend, our whole lives have been