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81

Abel

Lana walked them out then returned to me shortly. “Frank is mischievous.”

“Yes, he is. He's Andrew's son through and through. Which is why I'm staying away from that pea soup. I don't trust that kid.”

The room returned to it's revered solitude as our smiles faded. Her eyes glazed over, and I could have felt like I imagined the tears if she hadn't subtly raised a finger to dab them off.

“I thought I had lost you too. I couldn't feel your pulse. I couldn't feel you breathe, and you were so still. So calm. The blood was all over...oh God...” she trailed off, her voice breaking, eyes filled with tears.

I was so close to crying too. Reaching up to touch her face, although my arm felt sore even with that small, gentle movement, I whispered with a nervous chuckle. “Takes more than one gunshot to kill me off. A Stravkos never dies that easily.”

She sniffled, a hint of a smile on her lips. “You have no idea how grateful I am to death for not taking you. You've become my whole world, Abel.
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