The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(40)

That was the only thing she could think about as his expression went from neutral to sympathetic. Blood was rushing in her ears, her hands were growing sweaty. She didn’t think she could bear hearing what he said next, but his words pierced her sub-conscious despite her efforts to block it out, and they were almost enough to make her collapse.





For on its wing was dark alloy,

And as it flutter’d—fell

An essence—powerful to destroy

A soul that knew it well.

-The Happiest Day, the Happiest Hour





“The damage was so severe, we were afraid we had lost him, but we were able to get his heart beating again. He’ll be fine, but it will take a few months—or even longer—before he’s back to how he used to be. Due to his injuries, we did have to heavily medicate him, so he’ll be out for a while.”

That was all Lauren needed to hear, even if his answer hadn’t been exactly what she’d hoped for. Mishca was alive, and for now, that was enough.

“When will I be able to see him?”

“He should be heading into recovery now. I’ll send one of the nurses when he’s ready.”

Smiling gratefully, Lauren shook his hand. “Thank you, doctor.”

As he walked away, she watched him until he rounded a corner, then turned her gaze on Mikhail. She had never thought a day would come when she would have to face off with the Russian mob boss again, but she wasn’t about to back down now.

“Is there a reason you didn’t think to include me in this conversation?”

“I do not answer to you, girl.”

Lauren grappled for patience, knowing that she couldn’t talk to him like he was just a normal person. He was used to being shown respect at every turn, without anyone questioning him. While she planned to do the latter, she needed to keep her own anger under control.

“This has nothing to do with the Bratva. The only thing I care about right now is Mishca.”

“Your father—”

Rolling her eyes, Lauren folded her arms across her chest, boldly staring up at him. “I think that has lost its effect. Pick another bad memory.”

“Watch how you—”

“No, watch how you speak to me. I’m not a child, and despite how bold you think you are, you won’t move against Mishca. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now. Yes, he’s your son and I’m sure you love him in your own way, but nothing you do will keep me out of his life.”

She felt a presence at her back, and was almost afraid to see who it was, but when a tattooed hand rested on her shoulder, she relaxed.

“Anything I can do, Boss?”

The question was asked innocently enough, but with the way his body was angled, Lauren didn’t know whether Luka was talking to her or Mikhail, and it seemed that Mikhail didn’t miss it either.

Mikhail responded in Russian, the words clipped and angry before he turned his back and left the same way he came.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, Luka,” Lauren said as they went back to the waiting room.

“Mish is too busy being dead to hurt me at the moment, so I think I’m good.”

Lauren punched him in the chest, but did smile, if only because she had just gotten the good news from Mishca’s doctor. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call him Mish.”

Luka stopped in the middle of the floor, his frown becoming more apparent as he spun on his heel and walked away, never saying another word. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned his slip?

Lauren updated everyone on what the doctor had said, leaving out her conversation with Mikhail—there was no reason for them to know that. As the hours passed, everyone began leaving one by one. It was well beyond visiting hours, and Lauren was more than ready to beg the nurses to let her stay just a little while longer, but whatever Luka had done—considering one of them was blushing red and was wearing a huge grin—she was never even approached.

In fact, at about two in the morning, a nurse came to Lauren with a chart in her hands, ready to take her to Mishca’s room.

Fear kept ahold of her heart as she was led to a private room. She didn’t know what to expect, especially when she didn’t know the kind of damage Mishca had taken because of it. She knew bullet wounds were tricky, and while it might not have appeared bad, the inside of the body could have sustained far more damage than what was visible.

Outside the door, the nurse gave her a kind smile, briefly touching her shoulder. “I’ll give you a minute. Just press the button if you need anything.”

Lauren stood alone, her heart hammering as she tried to mentally prepare herself for what she might see once she walked in. She was imagining him with a tube down his throat, breathing for him, but when she finally got the courage to walk in, the reality was far different.

He was just so…still.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she walked around his bedside, dropping down into the empty chair. If she hadn’t been there herself, she wouldn’t have realized what had happened to him. If anything, he just looked tired, with bags beneath his eyes, and his pallor paler than usual.

But besides this, he was as she remembered.

Her hand trembled as she reached for his, ghosting her fingertips over his knuckles before sliding her hand beneath his to hold. She was so used to him reacting when she did that this tears formed in her eyes. The only thing that kept her from breaking down entirely was the steady rise and fall of his chest.