Page 76 of The Bratva Sinner

The door closes behind her, and I’m alone with Lila.

I cross to the bed and pull up a chair, sitting so I’m at eye level with her. She pulls down the oxygen mask.

“Don’t,” I start.

“I’m fine.”

“You ran into a burning building.”

“I saved the horses.”

“You could have died!” My voice rises despite my best efforts to remain calm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Her eyes flash. “I was thinking that Willow was trapped in there with her unborn foal. I was thinking Midnight would panic and hurt himself trying to escape. I was thinking those horses didn’t deserve to burn alive because some asshole wants to prove he can reach you inside your walls!"

"That's exactly what it was. They knew you'd run in after the horses. My horses are not your responsibility."

“Then whose responsibility are they?” She tries to sit up straighter and winces. “You’re never here! You’re always out there fighting this stupid war! Someone had to save them!”

The accusation stings because it’s true. I’ve been gone more than I’ve been home, trying to end this.

“That’s not the point,” I say through gritted teeth. “The point is that you put yourself in danger for animals that can be replaced.”

Her hand shoots out, but I’m faster. I’ve learned she’s got a hair trigger. My fingers wrap around her wrist and hold her hand about two inches from my face.

She glares at me.

“Don’t you ever say that again. Those horses are not replaceable. They’re living creatures that depend on us. You saved them from death once. Was I supposed to let them die now?”

“You should have let the guards handle it.” There’s less conviction in my voice now.

I release her hand, and she drops it back on the bed.

“The guards would have been too late. The smoke was thick. Another few minutes, and the horses would have been overcome.” She coughs, a harsh, rattling sound that makes me wince. “If you think I was going to just stand there and watch them burn, you’re out of your damn mind.”

The coughing gets worse. She doubles over, her body shaking with it. I reach for her instinctively, resting my hand on her back.

“Easy,” I murmur. “Try to breathe slowly.”

She grabs the oxygen mask and presses it to her face. Her eyes water from the coughing. I hear the wheeze in her lungs with each breath she takes.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask when her coughing fit subsides. “Water?”

She shakes her head, still breathing through the mask.

“It’ll pass.”

She pulls down the mask. “I just want to shower and check on the horses.”

“No.”

She narrows her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not going anywhere. You need to rest. Let your lungs recover.”

“I need to make sure they’re okay.”

“That’s Gus’ job. You nearly died today. You’re staying in bed.”