screamed again as their feet slipped over and all three
of us plunged.
Then we jerked to a stop. My shoulder, which had had a
second or so of sweet relief, wrenched again as it took
my weight. I looked up in bewilderment.
A big, broad shouldered beast of a man was leaning
over the ledge, grasping Angelo’s ankles. He lifted his
head and I gasped as I saw his face. Luka! Luka is here
too? My brain couldn’t even process him and Angelo
being there together. But maybe, just maybe, there was
hope now. If he could pull us up—
A hand grabbed my left ankle and my shoulder exploded
with white-hot pain as I was jerked down hard, my
body stretched between Angelo’s hand and whatever
was below me. I looked down….
Mikhail. All three of us had slid off the roof together, but
Angelo had been stopped by Luka and I was attached to
Angelo. Mikhail had fallen right on past us and would
have plunged to his death...except he’d caught my ankle
on the way down. He started to swing and twist and my
shoulder hurt so much I thought I was going to pass
out.
“Fuck!” I heard Angelo say above me.
I tried to kick Mikhail but each time I moved, the agony
it caused in my shoulder made me stop instantly. All I
could do was hang there and weep and pray for it to be
over. Angelo was grunting with the strain of supporting
both of us: I could see every muscle in his back
standing out, his biceps hard as rock. Higher up, Luka
was starting to lose his grip on Angelo’s ankles: even he
couldn’t support three people for long.
Then another figure joined Luka at the ledge. As big as
him, but the light from the fire gleamed off silver
strands amongst the black. Vasiliy! Between them, they
took the weight of Angelo, me and Mikhail. Now it was
a question of which would give out first: Angelo’s grip or
my arm. Either way, Mikhail was going to take me with
him.
Angelo drew his gun and tried to aim at Mikhail, but my
body blocked most of his view. He cursed. And I was
running out of time. The pain was so intense that my
vision was starting to narrow, my view of Angelo
seeming to recede. I was slipping away from
everything: his warmth, his light, his love...down into
the cold, dark numbness I’d known before him.
I closed my eyes. Somewhere, distantly, I could feel my
fingers loosening. I’d let go of him and then I’d be
alone. I’d always been alone.
“No!” yelled Angelo. “You hang on!”
“Fuck you, Vasiliy,” yelled Mikhail victoriously. “You
should have just let me fuck her and join the family!”
For some reason, that bit deep. Everything that he’d
planned to do to me, the years of hell he’d been willing
to put me through, all to join us...and yet he still had no
idea, no idea at all….
I loved Angelo. I was his. I would always be his.
But I was something else, as well.
I opened my eyes and looked down at Mikhail. “Fuck
you,” I grunted through the pain. “You don’t have what
it takes to be a Malakov.”
And I looked up at Angelo, stretched out my free arm
and motioned for the gun. He stared down at me in
shock and then dropped it into my hand. I swung my
arm down and pointed the gun right at Mikhail’s head.
His eyes went wide in shock and outrage. His mouth
opened, but I didn’t give him time to insult me again. I
squeezed the trigger, the hand on my ankle released
and he disappeared down into the darkness.
“But I do,” I panted.
With Mikhail’s weight gone, Angelo was able to lift me
higher, high enough that he could grab my other arm
and finally take some of the load off of my injured
shoulder. Even that change made it flare with pain again
and I suddenly started to cry, hot tears of agony
flooding down my face. Luka and Vasiliy pulled us
higher and higher and then Angelo and I were being
dragged up onto the walkway and, for the first time in
what felt like hours, my arm wasn’t being stretched at
all. I went woozy with how good it felt, even though the
slightest movement made the pain start all over again.
There was a crash as another part of the roof gave way.
Even the stone walkway we were on was starting to
crumble and tilt. The mansion was little more than the
walls, now, the whole interior having mostly collapsed.
We could jump forward into the fire, follow Mikhail
down onto the rocks or wait until the entire place fell.
But when you’re a Malakov, there’s always a way.
Vasiliy reached into his jacket, withdrew a wad of
banknotes thick enough to buy a high-end Mercedes,
and waved it slowly back and forth above his head. A
searchlight came on, picking him out in the darkness:
Mikhail’s helicopter, which had been circling as we
fought. It came closer and the side door slid open. I
saw the pilot and crewman look at each other and
shrug, then wave us forward. Russian mercenaries: not
terribly loyal but outstandingly practical.
Luka got in first, then Angelo lifted me and passed me
to him, so that I didn’t have to use my injured arm to
haul myself in. That left Vasiliy and Angelo on the ledge.
I saw Vasiliy’s eyes flick from the helicopter to Angelo to
the edge of the roof. Killing his rival would take only a
quick shove…. I grabbed Luka’s hand, my heart
suddenly in my mouth.
Angelo stared back at Vasiliy...and lifted his chin,
unafraid. He glanced at me, then back at Vasiliy. You
can do it, his expression said, but I’m not going to stop
loving her.
Vasiliy let out a long sigh and looked down into the
darkness where Mikhail’s body lay. “Perhaps I have
enough enemies,” he said wearily. And he waved Angelo
into the helicopter before climbing in himself.
Epilogue
Angelo
It was a long trip home.
First, we flew to Moscow and a private clinic that Vasiliy
knew. There, Irina was dosed up on morphine so that
the doctors could reset her dislocated shoulder. Even
with the morphine, she squeezed my hand so hard it
hurt.
I didn’t care one bit. The pain meant it was reaclass="underline" I had
her back.
With her arm in a sling, Irina fell asleep before we even
left the clinic’s parking lot. She dozed all the way to the
airport, where the Malakov jet met us. I carried her
aboard in my arms, laid her in one of the big leather
seats, put a blanket over her and strapped her in.
And then, for the next nine hours, Vasiliy, Luka and I
talked.
It was a careful negotiation, the verbal equivalent of
circling each other with swords drawn and shields up.
None of us was prepared to show weakness. But for the
first time, we talked to each other with respect, and
what I had with Irina felt like it brought us closer,
instead of setting us at each other’s throats.
There was no way I was going to give up the territory
I’d fought so hard for and there was no way that Vasiliy
was going to abandon his plans. But with Mikhail out of
the picture, there was the opportunity to rework things.
Vasiliy didn’t need to expand: that had been Mikhail’s
power-hungry scheme. He just wanted security for his
guns. There hadn’t been any way he could trust that
responsibility to anyone but a Russian. But with me….
We eventually decided that Vasiliy would keep Mikhail’s
existing territory, but wouldn’t expand into mine. Since