Page 41 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
A tiny smile pulls at her lips as she cracks her neck to the side. “It would be best if you came with me.”
Behind me, amongst the grunts and thuds of flesh hitting flesh, there’s a sharp cry of pain. The urge to turn around to check on Sasha is strong, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the woman in front of me. I retreat another step, and she doesn’t follow me, though that smile grows. She enjoys my fear. My heel bumps against something, and I know it’s the dead man Sasha killed. I risk a glance over my shoulder. One man is dead on the floor while the other has his back to me as he pins Sasha to the wall by his throat.
When I snap my gaze back to the woman, her eyes slip past me to the fight. “He will die.”
One, two…three. I drop to the floor and wrench the knife from the dead man’s throat. Blood splashes against my arm as I pivot. I have a split second and serious doubts as to whether I can still throw a knife with any accuracy, but I allow the blade to fly, watching it tumble end over end before I’m wrenched backward. I blink, and when I open my eyes, the knife is buried in the man’s back.
“That was foolish,” the woman hisses in my ear. Her arm wraps around my neck in a vice-like grip, and I close my eyes, waiting for her to snap my neck. No more running. But it never comes.
When I open my eyes, all I see is Sasha. Those blue eyes that once appeared so icy cold now seem so pure. Still other, still ethereal. Angelic. He stands a few yards away, his feet planted wide, and a gun raised…at me. He’s pointing it right at me, and I know there’s no way for him to get a clean shot at her.
Just let them have me, Sahsa.
His head tilts to the side, his lips pressing in a hard line. “I won’t let them have you, malyshka.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Do it.”
He hesitates for a fraction of a second before he pulls the trigger. The gunshot explodes through the carriage as red-hot pain tears through my shoulder. I feel the moment it lodges in the Russian woman’s chest. She hisses out a breath, and her grip loosens. Using all my strength, I shove forward, falling right on top of the dead man. Another shot goes off, and I know she’s dead.
“Adelina.” Sasha drops to a crouch beside me, forcing me to get up and sit in one of the seats.
“You said no guns.”
He laughs, actually laughs; I didn’t think he was capable. “You have a hole in your shoulder, and that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, well, if I’d had my gun—shit.” I hiss out a breath as he presses his hand against my shoulder.
“Find a spare shirt in your bag.”
With my free hand, I reach for my bag and pull out the first shirt my fingers touch.
He takes it from me, wadding it up and pressing it against my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“We need to move.” He grabs me by my good arm and hauls me to my feet. His eyes flick over me before he unzips his jacket. “Put this on. Cover up.”
I glance down at my white tank, splattered and smeared in crimson streaks. A trail of red gravitates downward from my shoulder. I look like a murderer or a murder victim. I’m not sure which I am at this point. By definition I’m the victim, and yet, I’m standing while my enemies lay dead at my feet. Thanks to him.
Sasha helps me into his jacket, and I wince as I pull my arm through the sleeve. It feels like someone is shoving a hot poker into my shoulder with each inch I move.
“Come on.” He leads me off the train, and we hurry along the platform.
Sasha wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. He’s like steel, solid and unwavering. He practically carries me down the platform and through the station, while lugging both of our bags. I can feel the blood soaking the material of my top and slicking over my skin. My head spins, and I stumble over my own feet.
Sasha’s getting more frantic, and his strides quicken. He drags me onto a train and down a narrow hallway.
“Is she okay?” Someone asks.
“She’s fine. She’s just unwell. She needs to lay down.”
A door opens, and Sasha leads me into a room with two cots on either side. There’s just enough room to walk between the two. At the back is a window, and Sasha tugs the blinds down over it.
“Adelina.” He lays me on a bed and grabs my face, tilting it toward him.
