Shura’s not back yet, either. Between the two of them, my stomach is a mass of churning nerves.
Alexei is just finishing with the bandages when Shura finally walks into the dining room we’re using as a makeshift infirmary.
“What’s going on?” I push off the table and dismiss Alexei with a jerk of my chin.
Shura’s bleak face doesn’t provide much in the way of reassurance.
“Natalia is fine. Physically speaking, at least.” He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “But she’s shaken.”
“Obviously. But she’s conscious. She’s dealing with everything,” I say, a desperate edge in my voice. “I call that progress.”
I wait for Shura to agree, but his jaw is set and his eyes are dark. “She wants to leave.”
I stare at him, waiting for the words to make sense. Waiting for him to explain himself.
“
