She’d known it would happen, but seeing her brother struggle for breath still tore at her heart. She’d already mourned for him once, but the hurt came back just as strong as when she’d been told of his death in battle.
Something painful snarled into her arm, throwing her away from her brother. Moments before, she’d taken comfort in the fact that her execution would be quick. She’d been mistaken. It seemed they would kill her a piece at a time.
The guards were all shadows, dark shapes highlighted by the automobile’s light, but there weren’t so many of them now. What had happened?
“Nadia!”
Her mind was playing tricks on her. Or maybe Filip was dead, and his voice was calling to her from the other side.
Another shot sounded, then another. Filip’s voice called to her again, but it wasn’t his face she saw when a shadow stepped closer and stood over her. It was Orlov. He pointed his pistol at her brain.
She had wanted to die bravely, standing tall until her life was snuffed out. Now she would be shot like a wounded animal.
“No!” That voice again. It couldn’t be Filip. She just wished it were him, wished she could see him one last time.
Orlov jerked, and his revolver fell onto the ice, then slid through the hole and into the water below. He glared at her, then lurched forward with erratic movements. He fell to his knees beside the hole in the ice.
Gravity, or perhaps vengeful ghosts, pulled him toward the exposed river. At the last moment, he lunged at her, grabbed her ankle, and dragged her with him.
She screamed and tried to grasp the ice, but the frozen surface offered no handholds. She went over the edge and into the black river below.
The icy water was like a physical blow, and it swallowed her whole. She gasped without meaning to and choked, and her lungs filled with water. She clawed at the edge of the cut ice, and when she kicked in a panic, she felt Orlov’s grip fall away. Something yanked on her injured arm, sending jolts of anguish all along the limb. Her sleeve was caught in a fissure, holding her while the frigid current buffeted her body and aggravating her pain.
Solid ice lay above her, and the river’s pull was too strong for her to fight. Everything was swallowed up in a cold, dark agony.
***
Filip dropped his rifle and dove across the ice.
The hole showed the ice’s thickness. No one could break it from below. He doubted he could break it from above. And the current was swift enough to carry away anyone who fell in.
He reached in anyway and grasped for anything solid. The water was so cold it burned. He prayed, begging God for a miracle. He’d come so close to saving her. Could she really be gone, swept away only seconds before he could reach her?
He shimmied forward so he could reach farther, using both arms. Only Anton’s weight as his friend gripped his legs kept him from going in after her.
There. He clenched a bit of fabric and held. He tugged it closer, then grabbed an arm.
“I’ve got her!” He hoped it was Nadia and not one of the other bodies that had been shoved under the ice. He pulled and scooted, trying to draw her out.
Nadia. But her eyes were closed, and her waterlogged clothing was unbelievably heavy. It took both of them to haul her from the river.
She coughed and sputtered as they laid her on the ice. Filip supported her as her body expelled the liquid from her lungs. He could barely feel his hands after plunging them into the river. She’d been completely immersed—what would that type of exposure do to her?
“The wet clothes have to come off.” Anton pulled at her boots. “And we have to get out of here. Quickly.”
Filip yanked at the fur coat she wore. It was already frozen onto the ice. He pulled her out of the coat, put his hat on her head, and started on the rest of her clothes. His chilled fingers were clumsy and couldn’t manage buttons, so he tore. Her eyes fluttered open, and her hands went to the front of her blouse, trying to fight him.
“Nadia, we have to get the wet things off you.” In her current state, she didn’t have the strength to stop him, but it felt wrong to take a woman’s clothes off when she wanted them on, no matter the circumstances.
Filip removed his thick coat and rolled her into that. The sleeves were wet, but the rest was dry. “She’s been shot.” There wasn’t much blood, but that might have been because of the dip in the river, not because it wasn’t serious. He scooped her up and took her to the back seat of the automobile.
“Rub her torso and keep her awake,” Anton ordered. Filip knew that, but it was hard to think straight when it was his wife he was desperately fighting to save.
“Nadia, say something.” He held her face in his hands. Her skin was discolored and felt like ice, her lips were blue, and her eyes were only open a fraction. “Stay with me.”