Midnight Sanctuary (Bugrov Bratva #2)(24)

I glance towards the door. “Is Lev in there?”

“He—er—well, yes.”

“How’s he doing?”

George sighs and crumbles forward. “Good days and bad, I suppose. H-he… asks for you a lot.”

My chest tightens. “Has he been cooped up in his room all day?”

“Try ‘all week.’” George snorts. “He hasn’t stepped foot out of that room since he was brought back to the estate.” He passes a hand over his face and I realize suddenly that he seems impossibly tired. Like he’s holding Lev together with his own bare hands. “The abduction really did a number on him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore. I think staying in there soothes him.”

Oh, the guilt. It’s like a jab to the stomach.

“Can I see him?”

I know I’m probably gonna be in a world of trouble with Uri for even asking, but I can’t just walk away knowing that Lev is hurting. If George turns me down, I’ll walk away and deal with it.

“Well… I probably should clear it with Nikolai or Uri first. But…” I hold my breath. “I’m worried about Lev. He hasn’t regressed this badly before. Maybe seeing you will help.”

“Y-you’re gonna let me in?”

“No.” My heart starts to fall before he adds, “I’m going to go to the kitchen to get some lunch and forget to lock the door behind me. And if someone just so happened to wander in while I was eating my sandwich—very, very slowly—well, then, I’d just have no way of knowing about that.”

Whistling happily, he saunters off down the hall, very determinedly not looking back for even a second. When he rounds the corner and his whistling starts to fade, I turn to the door with the brass handle.

Putting one palm on the cool wood, I push it inward just enough for me to slip through the crack.

The room I walk into is massive. Bigger than the basement, though with almost exactly the same amenities replicated in almost exactly the same spots. The most obvious difference is the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Or rather, that would be the most obvious difference, if each and every one of those windows didn’t have the blinds drawn tight so no sunlight can sneak through.

I spy a familiar shape on the bed. “Lev?”

He’s sitting with his back to me. He jerks violently when he hears my voice. “A-Alyssa?”

I take a tiny, cautious half-step forward. “It’s me.”

He leaps to his feet and turns to face me. His movements are as slow as mine. It’s almost like neither one of us wants to spook the other. His eyes are wide and his jaw is hanging open. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve done the right thing. Just because he’s been asking for me doesn’t mean he wants to see me. Doesn’t mean he needs to see me. Doesn’t mean seeing me won’t tear his fragile mind to pieces.

“Alyssa,” he murmurs again.

“Is it okay that I’m here, Lev?” I ask, gnawing the inside of my cheek. “If it’s not, I can go.”

His bottom lip quivers a little and then suddenly, he’s running full-tilt towards me. He grabs a hold of me, buries his face in the crook of my neck, and starts bawling. I’m reminded of just how big he is. I can barely stay on my feet with his six foot-two frame collapsing down on top of me.

I run a hand down his trembling back again and again. “Hey, Lev, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Words. Just meaningless, useless words that I spew out because I don’t know what else to do or say. I don’t believe them and I don’t know that even he does.

When he settles down a little, I walk him back to the bed and we sit on the edge together. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, though I’m not sure if that’s a yes or a no. Considering the number of tears on his cheeks, I’m gonna have to go with the latter. I take a tissue and wipe the tears off his face.

“Why d-didn’t you come to s-see me?” he blubbers.

“I’m sorry, Lev. I wanted to, but… it’s complicated.”

His frown is heartbreaking. “I thought you were angry with me.”

“No!” I exclaim adamantly. “Of course not. I could never be angry with you.” I take his hand and, while he flinches a little, he doesn’t move out of my grasp. “Why would you even think that?”

“B-b-because… e-everyone is a-a-angry with m-me.”

The stuttering is new, too. It happened before but not so violently or so frequently. I squeeze his hand a little tighter. At least he doesn’t seem to be too uncomfortable with my touch. “Can you take a deep breath for me, Lev? We’ll both breathe together.”

He gives it his best effort and, after a couple of breaths, he seems in a slightly better position to talk. “Okay—now, who else do you think is angry with you, Lev?”

His jaw trembles. “U-Uri.”

I frown. Uri? He’s always so patient with Lev. I can’t imagine that that’s changed. But then again, I’ve probably missed a lot while I’ve been trapped down in the basement.

“Uri is angry with you?”

“He says he’s not. B-b-but he doesn’t spend time with me like he u-u-used to. He doesn’t have t-t-time for games. He d-doesn’t even e-e-eat with me a-a-anymore. S-sometimes, he even yells.”