Page 44 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
I almost think he hasn’t heard me, but he releases a long breath. “Yes.”
“You should go.”
“No.”
I roll over, wincing. “Sasha, she’s your family.” He shouldn’t abandon them for me. I’m sure if Una wants him back, she has a good reason.
“Malyshka…”
“You need to take me to Enrique Bianchi.”
13
Sasha
“You need to take me to Enrique Bianchi.”
Everything in me rebels violently against the idea. I picture her with him. Tears on her face as sadness becomes her constant companion. I inhale deep breaths, staring at the dark ceiling. “No.”
“I can get close to him. I can kill him. You can’t even find him right now.”
“No.”
“You can go home, Sasha.”
Home. I’m not even sure where that is anymore, but it isn’t New York. I thought home was wherever Una is. Now I don’t know. “I won’t leave you.”
“I release you from protecting me.”
I fist the sheets on either side of my body, anger creeping over me. “You do not hold my contract.”
“Sasha—”
“He will not have you!” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, both surprised and horrified by my sudden outburst.
We both fall into silence, but the tension between is a visceral thing that could be sliced with a blade. There’s nothing else to say; she’s not going to him, and that’s it. After a while, her breaths even out, becoming slow and deep. And I lie there, listening to the gentle sound. It’s strangely soothing. Every time her breath hitches, so does mine, though I know she hasn’t lost enough blood for it to kill her.
She threw the only weapon in her reach because she thought she was saving me. I was a second away from breaking both his arms. In helping me, she left herself vulnerable. That woman could have snapped her neck before I had even raised my gun. I close my eyes, and I can see Adelina’s face, so fearless, so determined. Do it.
She knew exactly what I needed to do and was willing to take the bullet, anyway. My perception of her rapidly shifts. She was selfless for Gabriella, but no one has ever sacrificed themselves for me like that. Not even Una. We were trained to look after ourselves and trust that our comrades were skilled enough to take care of themselves as well. Adelina didn’t grow up in a military facility. Her emotions are exposed, worn like a jacket for all to see; they rule her. It makes her weak, but it also makes her brave, and it’s difficult not to hold her in high regard for that.
I try to rest. The gentle swaying of the train over the tracks eventually lulls me into a fitful sleep.
The woman looks at me, a twisted smile dancing over her lips. Her arm is wrapped firmly around Adelina’s neck.
“Do you think you can kill me before I kill her?” The Russian asks. I can. I know I can.
“Let them have me,” Adelina whispers.
“No!”
“Let them have me,” she repeats.
The pair of them move backward, and I try to follow, but my legs feel heavy.
“Adelina!” I lift my gun, but it’s in slow motion.
The woman adjusts her grip, and before I can pull the trigger, she twists Adelina’s head. I hear the sickening crunch of bone as she breaks her neck. I watch the life leave her eyes just as I have with so many before her, but this is different. My heart beats painfully in my chest and something inside me fractures.
“No!” No, no, no. I fire bullet after bullet, pouring them into the Russian woman, and she just laughs. But it makes no difference; Adelina is gone.
I blink my eyes open to amber light pouring through the window. Sweat clings to my skin, and my lungs feel starved of oxygen. Something touches my finger, and when I glance down, my arm is halfway across the cabin, my hand resting on the edge of Adelina’s bed. She’s rolled towards me with her fingers brushing against mine, as though she were reaching for me in turn.
The early morning light dances over her face, washing her hair in tones of mahogany and red. A tightening sensation forms in my chest, and I frown. Snatching my hand back, I throw my legs over the side of the small cot and sit up. Lifting the blinds, I check where we are.
The rising sun creeps between snow-capped mountains, painting the sky pink and purple. The Alps. Tugging the blinds back down, I push to my feet and lean over Adelina’s sleeping form. I gently tug her tank strap to the side, inspecting her shoulder. The dressing has bled through, but not enough to concern me. Her usual golden skin looks pale though, and her lips are tinged a strange shade of grey.
I press my fingers to the side of her throat, seeking out her pulse. As soon as I do, her eyes flash open. She stills, that deep blue gaze locking with mine. I should retract my hand, but I don’t.
