Viktor hadn’t been doing much in the way of sleeping since the Bratva had come in mostly in one piece. Thankfully, most of his agents had gotten out of the fray relatively unharmed, save for a few injuries from ricochet bullets. But there were some who hadn’t been so lucky, either missing or having taken the brunt of the gunfire. This was the hour that his family needed him the most, and so he had been running back and forth wrapping up injuries and fetching water to help out those who had imbibed a little too much while on duty.
But Catarina...She had been the most cause for concern. Viktor had one of the doctors in Little Odessa visit his flat in the initial panic, but they all seemed to think that they only thing his Sovietnik needed was rest and plenty of water. Even with their reassurances, he checked on her periodically throughout the night, brow furrowed with concern as she tossed around in his bed. Every one of his officers knew that the missions they went on were dangerous and accepted the risks that came with it. Yet that didn’t stop the pang of fear that threaded through the pakhan at the thought of losing his best childhood friend.
There had been too much loss as of late. Viktor didn’t know if he could process another.
In the early hours, as he was contemplating whether a third or fourth coffee was a sound idea, he heard Catarina stir, and immediately made a beeline to her bedside. “Cat! Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya luchshe? U tebya vse khorosho?” Before she had any room to protest, Viktor already had a glass of water in hand, offering it with a warm smile. “You gave us a scare last night. Do you remember?”
