I mount the curb beside ambulances, doors flying open before the car fully stops.
She tries saying something, but I’m already lifting her. Her arms loop around my neck, forehead pressed to my jugular. Blood smears my collar. Hers? Mine? Doesn’t matter.
The automatic doors hiss open. A nurse shouts in rapid-fire Italian. I follow the gurney they shove under us, refusing to release her hand even when they try to pry me away.
Until, finally, we reach the exam room. I can’t go any farther. I can’t save her now; only they can.
She turns her head on the sterile pillow. Tears carve paths through the dirt on her cheeks. “Don’t you dare leave me, Sasha Ozerov.”
“I won’t,” I vow to her. “I never will again.”
The doors swing shut in my face.
My reflection in the glass shows a wild-eyed strange
