Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Someone was digging their fingers into my leg and it hurt like crazy, but I couldn’t raise the energy to scream. I heard someone move in close to the other side of me and smelled Konstantin’s cologne. Then a big hand lifted mine and squeezed it. I tried to squeeze back, but I was too weak.
Footsteps pounded towards us. “Got the blood!”
This time, my stomach lurched. That was bad. That was wrong. But my brain still wouldn’t work properly—I couldn’t figure out why I was scared.
“Get it in, her pressure’s dropping.”
The metal feet of a drip stand rattled against the tiles as someone struggled to hang a bag on it.
That fear again, shapeless but real. With a monumental effort, I managed to crack my eyes open. I could see the bag swinging above me, heavy with blood.
Christina’s type of blood. But—
But not mine. I was O-negative. My brain finally came awake. The wrong blood will kill me!
Someone had hold of my arm. A needle pricked at me. I tried to pull my arm away in panic.
“She’s waking up!”
“Get the damn IV in, she needs the blood!”
A heavy arm pinned mine to the bed. Then the stab of a needle going in and the sticky pressure of a dressing securing it in place. “Line’s in!”
No! Stop! I tried to yell a warning, but all that came out was a groan.
Konstantin’s voice. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s just in pain.”
A pull on the IV needle as the tube from the bag was screwed onto it. “Blood’s going in!”
No, no! I started to thrash. Strong hands held me down. “Ma’am, we’re trying to help you! Lie still!”
Over the doctor’s shoulder, I could see the blood coursing down the transparent tube towards my arm. No!
Konstantin leaned over me. “Golub, what’s wrong?”
The blood reached my arm—
Moving my injured leg made it feel like the glass was stabbing into it all over again. But I cocked it and kicked—and felt one toe just catch the drip stand. My arm exploded in pain as the IV was tugged and then the whole thing was tipping—
“Catch it!” someone yelled. But they were all busy trying to hold me down and—
There was a wet slap as the bag hit the floor.
“Goddammit!” snapped a nurse, glaring at me. “Bag’s burst. And that was the last AB-negative we had.”
“Then get me some O neg!” yelled the doctor.
O neg. O neg is fine. I slumped on the bed, my eyes closing.
50
Hailey
THEY KEPT ME in the hospital for the whole of the next day. I spent most of the time sleeping, recovering from the blood loss, but whenever I woke, Konstantin was by my bedside, watching over me.
They discharged me the following morning, the 18th. As Konstantin pushed me to the car in a wheelchair, a man hurried across the hallway without looking and slammed into me. Konstantin glared at him, protective, and he stammered an apology... and as he moved around the chair, I felt him discreetly slip something into my jacket pocket. He must be FBI.
I knew what he’d slipped me, but I didn’t touch it. Not yet.
Konstantin had Grigory drive us into Manhattan and then to somewhere I recognized, though I hadn’t been there in years. Battery Park, at the southern tip of Manhattan. You can look out and see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.
He lifted me out of the car and carried me. I told him that I could walk, or at least limp, but he wouldn’t allow it. He carried me all the way to a bench, looking out over the water, and then sat down beside me.
It was still early and autumn mist was rolling across the water, but you could still see Lady Liberty rising up out of it. It was bitterly, bitterly cold and that made my tooth start aching again. “What are we doing here?” I asked.
He was staring out at the water. “I need to tell you my story. You need to understand why I—Why I’m me.”
I nodded, eyes wide.
He took a deep breath and then huffed it out in a white cloud. It was so cold, I wasn’t sure how long we’d be able to stay sitting there. “My father was Nikolai Gulyev,” said Konstantin. “He ran half of St. Petersburg for the Russian mafia for over twenty years. A hard man, but fair. He fell for a secretary who worked for one of his companies.”
“Your mother,” I guessed.
“My mother. He married her and they had three boys: Pavel, Stefan, and me. We were the richest family in St. Petersburg. Growing up, I didn’t want for anything. I had the best tutors, a huge house to play in, a horse….” He shook his head. “Things were different, back then. There was more honor. We always knew there was danger, we had guards, but we never thought….”