Then another gunshot echoes. And another. And another.
Mia’s face is a mask of panic as she pulls the trigger. She’s a nurse—she’s never had to hurt someone. Never broke her oathbefore.
But now, for me, she shatters it.
Desya’s body sways. He looks down at his chest, filled with bullet holes, with a horrified sort of disbelief.
Then he falls off the pier.
I watch the dark waters churn around his body. Bubbles come up to the surface in a heated froth until it all turns still. As calmas the grave.
He’s dead. He’s really dead.
“Yulian!” Mia drops the gun and rushes to me. “Are you okay?! Where are you hurt?!”
I want to answer. Want to raise my hands to her shaking shoulders, cup her face and kiss her. But then the world starts tippingover.
“Yulian.” Mia’s voice turns panicked, desper
