I ask her.
“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. Then, seeing the misery on my face she adds, “He’s probably survived worse.”
I try sitting on the couch, then I pace the room for a minute, then I sit down again. I’m anxious, but I’ve given out too much blood to keep up the pacing.
“That fucking back-stabbing Judas,” I hiss, furious at Jonas.
Klara raises her eyebrows. I don’t usually talk like that. She’s never seen me riled up like this.
“He’s trash,” she agrees, calmly.
“Isn’t he your cousin?” I ask Klara.
“Yeah,” she sighs, pushing back her bangs, which are dark with sweat. “I never liked him, though. Mikolaj always treated me well. He was fair. Didn’t let the men put their hands on me. And he gave me money for my mother when she got sick. Jonas didn’t send her anything. She’s his father’s sister—he still didn’t give a damn.”
I could stab Jonas myself, if he were standing here now.
I’ve never felt that kind of violent anger before. I don’t lose my temper. I don’t have murderous thoughts. I don’t even kill spiders when I find them in the house. But if Mikolaj dies . . . I won’t be a pacifist anymore.
“Marcel will take care of him, won’t he?” I ask Klara.
“Yes,” she says, firmly. “He knows what he’s doing.”
She’s quiet a minute, then she says, “Marcel was from a wealthy family in Poland. That’s why he sounds so posh. His father was a surgeon, and his grandfather. He could have done the same.” She laughs softly. “He never would have looked twice at me in Warsaw.”
“Yes he would!” I tell her. “He looks at you about a hundred times a day here. He can’t pay attention to anything else when you’re in the room.”
Klara flushes. She doesn’t smile but her dark eyes look pleased.
“He shot Simon,” she says, still shocked. “Simon was choking me . . .”
She touches her throat where the bruises are already starting to appear.
“This is so insane,” I say, shaking my head. “Everyone’s gone mad.”
“We all have to choose where our loyalties lie,” Klara says. “Mikolaj chose you.”
Yes, he did.
And I chose him, too.
I was only minutes away from my family’s house.
I turned around and ran back to him.
I knew he was in danger, because of me. I had to help him.
Will I make the same choice, once he’s safe?
I don’t know what a future with Mikolaj would look like. He has a darkness inside of him that terrifies me. I know he’s done awful things. And his resentment toward my family is still burning.
On the other hand, I know that he cares about me. He understands me in a different way than my mother or father or siblings. I’m not just a sweet, simple girl. I feel things deeply. I have a well of passion inside of me—for things that are beautiful, and for things that are broken . . .
Mikolaj brings out that other side of me. He lets me be so much more than innocent.
We’re only just scratching the surface of this bond between us. I want to dive all the way in. I want to lose myself in him, and find myself all over again—the real me. The complete Nessa.
And I want to know the real Mikolaj: passionate, loyal, unbreakable. I see it. I see who he is.
I’m more than good, and he’s more than bad.
We’re opposites, and yet made for each other.
This is what I’m thinking about, while the hours drag by. The time seems horribly long. Klara is quiet, too. I’m sure she’s thinking of Marcel—wishing she could help him with more than just thoughts.
Finally the door cracks open. Marcel emerges from the makeshift operating room. His clothes are bloodstained and he looks exhausted. But there’s a grin on his handsome face.
“He’s alright,” he says to us.
The relief that washes over me is indescribable. I leap to my feet.
“Can I see him?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Marcel says. “He’s awake now.”
I run into the cramped room. Cyrus is still washing his hands in the sink, next to a pile of blood-stained gauze.
“Careful,” he croaks. “Don’t hug him too hard.”
Mikolaj is laying in the dentist’s chair, half-reclining, half propped up. His color is still awful. His shirt has been cut away, so I can see the many places where Cyrus and Marcel stitched and taped and bandaged him.
His eyes are open. They look as clear and blue as ever. They find me at once, pulling me over to him.
“Miko,” I whisper, taking