Page 26 of Bratva's Mercy
His fingers brushed through my hair, methodically pressing along my scalp until I hissed sharply.
“There,” he said under his breath. “We need to get you an ice pack for that, but let me clean you up first.”
The antiseptic wipe stung as he cleaned the blood away from the cut on the left side of my head, which had hit the window. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to flinch while he worked.
He tossed the bloodied wipe into the trash, then applied a Band-Aid. “Don’t move. I’ll be back.”
Sergei stood and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall and toward the stairs. For the first time since the accident, I had a moment to breathe. I exhaled slowly and allowed my head to drop forward, closing my eyes for a second before forcing them open again. The dizziness still swirled unpleasantly behind my eyes, though the nausea eased.
My gaze drifted around the familiar room, but suddenly everything looked different. The toothbrush on the counter. The towel hanging on the rack. The razor Brad had left on the sink that I still hadn’t moved.
It felt like someone had broken into a private part of my life.
Except he hadn’t broken in. He’d walked straight through the door as if he belonged there, and I hadn’t stopped him.
He’s been here before.
The evidence stacked up, leaving no room for doubt. How many times had he been inside my home? I didn’t know what frightened me more: the idea that Sergei had been inside my home while I slept, or the fact that I had never noticed before.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs again. Sergei reappeared amoment later, holding an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel. He handed it to me without a word and gestured toward the left side of my head.
“Hold it there,” he said. “Fifteen minutes.”
I frowned at him. “When did you become a doctor?”
“I didn’t.” He folded his arms across his chest, leaning one shoulder against the counter. “But I run security for Morozov. That means advanced first aid training. If my boss gets shot, stabbed, or blown up, I’m the one keeping him alive until the professionals arrive.”
I pressed the ice pack against the tender spot on my skull, wincing as the cold seeped into the bruise.
“Well,” I muttered, “that’s comforting.”
Sergei returned to the sink, turned on the tap, and stuck his hand underneath it to wash away the blood. I watched the red swirl down the drain for a moment before a fresh wave of irritation pushed through the fog in my head. The sight of it—his blood inmysink, his massive body fillingmybathroom as if he belonged there—made my skin prickle.
“You know,” I said slowly, adjusting the ice pack, “for someone who claims to be trained in advanced first aid, you’re doing this in the wrong order.”
Sergei glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
I gestured weakly toward his hands. “Blood contamination. Basic protocol. If the person administering care is actively bleeding all over the place, you deal with that first. Otherwise, you risk spreading whatever pathogens might be present.”
His movements stopped.
For a moment, he just stood there with the water running over his knuckles, staring down at the cuts like the thought had never occurred to him. Then he shut off the tap and turned toward me fully.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t thinking.”
The words surprised me so much that I blinked. I never expected him to admit his mistake. “That’s reassuring coming from the man currently responsible for my medical care.”
He shook his head slightly, like he was frustrated with himself. “You were hurting, and I wanted to make you feel better first—to ensure you weren’t hurt worse than you are, but I should know better. I’m sorry.”
The statement, the apology, landed in my gut hard. For a second, I didn’t know what to say. I had expected defensiveness. Maybe arrogance. A dismissive comment about how he knew what he was doing.
Not…that apology.
Sergei seemed to realize how it sounded a moment later because he cleared his throat and looked away briefly. “For the record, you don’t need to worry about diseases. I don’t have anything you could catch.”
My brows lifted. “Are you a hundred percent positive?”
Sergei shrugged one shoulder. “It’s been almost two years since I’ve fucked anyone, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
