his hand and raising it up to my lips.
“You were right,” he says.
“About what?”
“You said I wouldn’t die. I thought I would. But you’re always right . . .”
He winces, still in pain.
“We don’t have to talk now,” I tell him.
“Yes, we do,” he says, grimacing. “Listen, Nessa . . . Jonas, Andrei, and the others . . . they’re going after your brother. Not just them, the Bratva too. Kolya Kristoff . . .”
“I’ll call Callum,” I say. “We’ll warn him.”
I can tell it’s hard for him to speak, because he’s still so drained. But he’s determined to make sure I understand the danger.
“They want to kill him.”
Mikolaj wanted to kill my brother, too. Now he’s doing his best to save him. For me. Only for me.
He chose me over his desire for revenge.
He chose me over his brothers.
He chose me over his own life.
“Thank you, Miko,” I say.
I lean over him, careful not to press against his injured body, and I kiss him softly on the lips. He tastes like blood, smoke, and oranges. Like our very first kiss.
“Come on,” Marcel says from the doorway. “I’ll take you to your brother.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I say to Mikolaj, clinging to his hand.
“We’ll stay together,” Miko agrees, trying to sit up.
“Hey! Are you crazy!?” Cyrus shouts, hurrying over and trying to make him lay back again. “You’ll rip out all your stitches.”
“I’m fine,” Mikolaj says, impatiently.
He’s not fine, but he seems determined to will it into reality.
“We can’t hang around here, we’ve got too much to do,” Miko says.
“You almost just died,” Marcel reminds him.
Mikolaj totally ignores that, as if it’s already in the distant past. He’s pulling himself upright, grimacing, but not thinking about the pain. His mind is working a million miles a minute, strategizing, formulating our next steps. Half his men may have turned on him, but he’s still the same leader and planner. He’s still the boss.
“We’ve got to go to the west side, to Cook County Jail.”
“What are you talking about?” Marcel says, clearly thinking that Mikolaj has lost his mind.
Mikolaj groans, putting his feet down on the ground and slowly hoisting himself up.
“We’re going to get Dante Gallo,” he says.
27
Miko
I feel like I’ve been run over by a garbage truck. There’s not a part of me not throbbing, burning, or immobile. Cyrus warns me that if I’m not careful, I’ll tear open my wounds and start bleeding all over again.
I’d like to go to sleep for about a week. But there’s no time for that.
Jonas and Kristoff have surely met up by now to plan their final assault against Callum Griffin. I don’t know if they’ll still try to attack him at the library opening, or if they’ll switch to something else.
What I know for certain is that the Griffins are going to need all the firepower they can get to fend them off. Which means I need to round up any of my men who are still loyal, and free Dante as well. When it comes to strategic defense, you need your sniper.
As we drive over to the west side of the city, Nessa calls Callum from my phone. I can hear both sides of the conversation in the small confines of the car.
“Cal, it’s me,” Nessa says.
“Nessa!” he cries. I hear the intense relief in his voice. “Thank god! Are you alright? Where are you? I’ll come get you!”
“I’m fine,” she assures him. “Listen, I have to—”
“Where are you? I’m coming right now!”
“Cal,” she says, “Listen to me! The Bratva and the Braterstwo are coming for you. Maybe Aida, too. They might come to the library opening. They want to kill you.”
He’s silent for a beat, processing this. Then he says, “Are you talking about Mikolaj Wilk and Kolya Kristoff?”
“Kristoff, yes. But not Mikolaj. It’s his lieutenant, Jonas, and some of his men.”
A longer pause.
“Nessa, what’s going on?” Callum asks.
“I’ll explain it all to you,” Nessa says. “In fact, I’ll meet you at the house in . . .” she glances over at me. I hold up a finger. “One hour.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line. Callum is confused, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on right now. He’s been looking for Nessa for weeks, and now she’s calling him out of the blue, not acting like a hostage at all. He’s wondering if this is a trap, if she’s being forced to say this.
“I’m okay,” Nessa assures him. “Just come meet me. Trust me,