The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(8)

“How far are you?” Maybe she could go back to sleep for a bit before he arrived.

“Ten minutes out.” So much for that idea. “Are you hungry?”

She really wasn’t though she had no idea when she had last eaten. “No.”

He didn’t seem to like the sound of that, grating words in Russian that sounded suspiciously like curses. “Lauren…”

Rolling her eyes, and not in any mood to fight with him, she relented. “Whatever you pick up is fine. You know what I like.”

“I’ll see you shortly.”

After the call clicked off, she grabbed one of the pillows from the top of her bed, smashing it until she was satisfied, sighing as the coolness kissed her cheek.

One minute it felt like she had just closed her eyes, the next she was opening them as Mishca came into her room, a bag in one hand, a to-go cup in the other. She gave him a sleepy smile, turning over to face him.

He set it all on top of her desk, coming to lean over her, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. His eyes were closed, the tension in his body drained away. That one simple act meant just as much to him as it did to her.

“Ya lyublyu tebya, Mish—I love you, Mish.”

“Myoe serdtse tvoya—My heart is yours.”

She blinked up at him in confusion, only understanding part of what he had said. It had grown easier to understand when he spoke in Russian, in part because of him using the same phrases.

“Translation?”

He only smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“I think you asked me that already, Mish. I’m fine, honest. Are you in trouble?”

Mishca looked away, but not before she saw the anger in his eyes.

“That bad? What did you do to piss him off…or was it me?”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter.”

She didn’t know if she was ready to believe that. Mishca didn’t have a habit of being irrational…except when it came to her. She didn’t want Mishca to get in any more trouble because of her.

“Put it out of your mind,” Mishca insisted, heading out of her bedroom when the doorbell rang.

“Wait!” She didn’t mean to yell, but her voice echoed around the room, bringing him up short.

He was able to see the fear in her face, the exact thing she had been trying to hide from him. It was reasonable, it wasn’t like he had expected her to bounce back from this so quickly, but she wanted to move on from it.

Reaching behind him, Mishca pulled out the gun she had grown used to him carrying, holding it out to her. When she hesitated, he placed it in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it.

“Shoot anyone that’s not me.”

That was enough to loosen the fear constricting her, making her laugh aloud. “The neighbors would hear.”

Walking backwards out of the room, he shrugged. “And I’d take care of it.”

Lauren was smiling, but she did take a few steps back from the doorway, her hands feeling clammy with sweat as she waited. She thought about what Ross had taught her, going over what might happen, but Mishca was back in seconds, the doctor following behind him. He came up short when he noticed the gun in Lauren’s hand.

“Sorry,” Lauren said quickly, practically shoving it at Mishca—luckily, the safety was on.

That helped dispel some of his fear as he continued in, setting his bag on the floor. As he began his cursory exam, Lauren made sure to mention that she didn’t think that it was at all necessary because she felt fine.

“All the same, it doesn’t hurt. Besides, that looks like a pretty painful bruise.”

Lauren instinctively touched her face, feeling the soreness in her jaw. “Sometimes Mish has a heavy hand.”

Doc froze in shock, Mishca scowled in the background, a promise of pain in his eyes. “I…uh.”

“Lauren.”

“Sorry,” she said with a smile in Mishca’ direction. “I was only joking.”

Judging from the way he carefully moved on, she doubted he believed her. When he was finished—and everything was fine as Lauren had said—he was packing up to leave when Mishca finally spoke.

“Your debt to the Bratva has been filled.”

They both looked over at him in surprise, the doctor more than Lauren.

“You will not receive another call from anyone, and I trust that our arrangement will be kept quiet.” Now that part sounded more like a veiled threat.

He looked far too stunned to do anything more but nod, but that shock soon turned to relief, then an undeniable happiness that even made Lauren smile.

“I…thank you.” He rushed forward, grabbing Mishca’s hand with both of his. “Thank you.”

With a wave to Lauren, he was practically running out the door. Mishca came back from locking it behind him, stumbling back a step when Lauren threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

He returned it, kissing the spot just below her ear. “It’s coming out of your account just so you know.”





The first few of months were tense, it felt like they were walking on eggshells as they waited on Jetmir to retaliate. Some time ago, Mishca had went back to the building—Lauren choosing to sit that one out—and found that Brahim’s body was gone. There hadn’t been any crime scene tape, nor was there any talk of a body being found.