The Final Hour

by London Miller

  Luka rubbed his jaw, his expression closed off. “Nyet. Not a good idea.”

  “It’s what you do though,” Lauren argued. “You’re an enforcer. You find people, beat the shit out of them, or bring them in. I want him brought in, and if it makes you feel better, you can hit him in the face for what he did to you.”

  “Tempting, yes, but Cap would have my balls if I even bothered bringing someone like him to you. Especially with him out of commission,” he said with a jerk of his head towards Mishca.

  “What did Mishca tell you to do exactly?” Lauren asked, refusing to back down from what she wanted.

  “Look after you…” But he trailed off, and she knew that he knew exactly what she was referring to.

  “And what else?”

  Rolling his eyes, he scratched his head. “Give you whatever you ask for.”

  “And I need Klaus here.”

  “Fine.” He threw his hands up in the air. “But you don’t move from that spot until I get back. And if I can’t get him, you leave it alone, yes? I don’t need you fucking shit up.”

  “Vlad can even keep me company,” she said light-heartedly, looking to the stoic man that had just entered the room.

  He looked between the two of them, curious about what they’d been talking about, but he didn’t ask.

  Luka was gone after a private conversation with Vlad. With just the two of them in the room, Vlad came over, pulling a chair around until he was sitting next to her. He reached over, patting her shoulder.

  She knew how much Mishca meant to him, even if he never spoke the words aloud. Mishca always spoke positively about him, and before Luka, there was and would always be Vlad.

  “Do you think he’ll ever wake up? He’s been asleep for a long time.” She asked softly, that question plaguing her mind.

  She had never had the courage to voice it to anyone else, afraid of what they might say. Susan and Ross would have sugarcoated it, doubting she would want to know what they truly thought. Ross might have wanted to, but Susan would have stopped him, especially after the way Lauren had snapped at him before.

  “He’s too stubborn to die,” he answered after some time.

  And that was all she could hope for.

  One day passed, another, and Mishca still hadn’t woken up. Alex had come by, Amber and the others, even Susan and Ross. Luka had yet to come back, and he hadn’t called either, but Lauren wanted to wait just a little while longer before sending Vlad after him.

  She had become a regular fixture at the hospital, the nurses with Mishca on their rounds greeting her by name. It wasn’t until later in the day did she get the answers she needed.

  Lauren had left Mishca’s side for a couple of minutes at most, but when she came back and reclaimed her seat, she felt his presence without seeing him. She didn’t have time to wonder how he had gotten past the nurses, or even Vlad who had dozed off in the lobby, she was just glad he was there.

  “I didn’t think you would actually show up,” she whispered, not bothering to look away from Mishca as he slept on.

  Klaus made a sound as he walked out from the shadows, his gaze skirting from her to Mishca, lingering for a moment before returning to her. She had hoped to see something, some flicker of emotion in his eyes to show that he cared about what happened to Mishca, but there was nothing, like he wasn’t even human.

  “You sent for me, here I am. What do you want?”

  The first time Lauren had met Klaus, she was too shocked by the fact that Mishca had a twin to really notice the discrepancies between them, but now that she was looking at him, they did have subtle differences between them.

  Klaus didn’t wear facial hair—at least during the times they crossed paths—and he wore his hair significantly shorter, it barely fell below his ears. And there was so much anger in his face. He also didn’t have the accent. In fact, there were no inflections at all in his voice to discern a geographical background.

  “I need your help.”

  “Nothing I can do for the Russian,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stood next to the window, his back against the wall. “And who’s to say I didn’t put that bullet in him?”

  “You wouldn’t have shown up if you did, and if you had, you wouldn’t be talking to me. Plus, too many witnesses”

  He smirked like he found her amusing. “I could snap your neck before you uttered a sound. I would tell you to ask your Russian, but—” He shrugged like he hadn’t a care in the world, “—he can’t answer anything at the moment.”

  He was baiting her, much like Luka did on a day-to-day basis, but unlike him, Klaus wasn’t doing it to make her laugh.

  “Mishca said you were the best sniper he knew, which tells me that if you were the one to shoot him, you wouldn’t have missed his heart.”

  “True enough, but I still fail to see why I’m here.”

  “I want you to find the person who did this.”

  “Not my problem.”

  Lauren frowned, squeezing her hands together as she tore her eyes from Mishca to look over at him. “Whatever happened between the two of you, he’s still your brother.”

  Rolling his eyes, he bit out, “If you think to appeal to me that way, you clearly don’t know shit. Word of advice, walk away before you’re in a bed next to him.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished. “I can’t do that.”

  “Then you’re far more stupid than I thought. We done here?”

  With long strides, he was nearly out the door, but she jumped to her feet, quickly making him an offer before he could take another step.

  “I’ll pay you! Just name your price.”

  She didn’t know much about mercenaries, or how they worked, but if they were anything like she thought, he would be willing to trade his services for currency, no matter if he hated the person he was working for.

  He turned back, blatantly laughing at her. “You couldn’t afford me.”

  Steeling her resolve, she tilted her chin up a fraction, staring at him daringly. “Name your price.”

  “Half a million.”

  He didn’t look like he expected her to agree to that amount—it was far more than he charged normally for a similar job—but he failed to remember that fear made people desperate.

  “Done.”

  Klaus studied her for several moments before shaking his head, seeming baffled by her answer.

  “What are you going to do next time?” Klaus asked her as he crossed to her side, making her crane her neck to look at his face. “You have to know this won’t be the only attempt on his life. “

  “I’ll do what I have to,” she said with conviction.

  “How easily you’re willing to take out someone else to save your precious lover. And if the person you’re hunting is a father, with a wife and child, still want me to take the shot?”

  His words had the desired effect, making her flinch, losing some of her bravado.

  “You’re no better than them, are you?”

  This time, Lauren didn’t try to stop him as he walked out the room. Turning, she went back to sit at Mishca’s side, trying to put out of her mind what Klaus had just said.

  Because a part of her feared it was true.

  Some hours later, Lauren blinked her eyes open, not really sure what woke— “Luka, what the hell?”

  He was crouched in front of her, his face just inches from hers, slowly chewing on a slice of orange, a smile stretching his lips when he finally noticed she was finally awake. Since he was in such a good mood—considering it was him—she doubted he knew about Klaus’ appearance the night before. She decided it could wait until later.

  She shoved him back half-heartedly, sitting up so she could look around, then to Mishca. Everything was how it had been.

  “What do you want? And where have you been? I was going to send out a search party.”

  “I do my job, except I couldn’t find him. But enough about me, you’ve been here for three days and you ki
nd of reek—”

  “I showered yesterday, and considering you just woke me up, I have a valid excuse.”

  He just went on like she hadn’t spoken. “—And it might be good for you to get prepared for when the Cap comes home.”

  Lauren sat up straighter, looking over to where Mishca was still sleeping undisturbed. “Was there news? What did the doctors say, and why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “I convinced a nurse to tell me. She was surprisingly flexible considering—”

  “Luka!”

  “Well you’re no fun. The swelling went down and they stopped the blah so he’ll be waking up and blah blah blah, good news. Plus, some other shit that I thought was boring.”

  Lauren touched his shoulder, making him stop in the middle of his rambling. “Luka, please. What did they say?”

  And surprisingly, he quoted whoever he talked to back to her, verbatim, even using the medical terminology that was a little lost on her. When he finished, and she could do no more but stare at him in amazement, he gave her a rather sad smile that made her wonder what was wrong.

  “I never forget anything.” But just as quickly as that sudden sadness came over him, he snapped right out of it. “Ready to go?”

  Deciding it was best not to argue with him, she gathered her stuff, and after giving Mishca a kiss, she left with him.

  Since the shooting, she hadn’t been back to the new place, instead spending all of her time at the hospital, not that anyone seemed to mind. And it made it easier for her babysitter to watch after her, or at least that was Luka’s excuse though Lauren doubted that.

  Luka obeyed the speed limit on the way there, already having one ticket to deal with. By the time they got there and boarded the elevator, Lauren was counting down from twenty, trying not to think about everything she would have to do once she got inside.

  She was surprised at the sight that greeted her. Presents were stacked all over the living room, varying in colors and sizes, a reminder of what was supposed to be the best day of her life.

  Her footsteps were painfully loud as she moved further inside, Luka at her back. She thought about retreating back to the hospital, but she needed to deal with this first. And if—when Mishca was coming home, she wanted to make it as easy for him as possible.

  Dropping her keys and bag on the table, she ignored the presents for the time being, heading into their bedroom. The sheets were still rumpled from their last night together, another painful reminder.

  Shutting the door—leaving Luka to his own devices—she stripped out of her clothes, going into the bathroom to cut on the shower. In there, she let the water wash away her misery, knowing that she needed to be strong, if only for Mishca. She had to believe that he would be the same once he woke up, give her that reassuring smile, and even if she didn’t ask, promise he wouldn’t get shot again, even if he couldn’t control something like that.

  Lauren stayed beneath the spray of water until it ran cold, grabbing a towel from the bar. She wrapped it around her torso, grabbing another to towel off her hair.

  She had plenty of clothes to choose from, but instead, she chose one of Mishca’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, rolling the waist a couple of times to keep them in place.

  Back in the living room, she saw Luka sitting at the bar, a strange piece of food in his hand, one that she had never seen before, but undoubtedly, it was fruit. He rarely seemed to eat anything else.

  “Do you miss the brothel?” She asked, walking around him to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Such an ugly name, no? I like to think of it as my happy place.”

  “How’s Natasha?” Lauren had only been around her twice, one of them at the safe house, the other at the wedding, but she did wonder about her.

  “She doesn’t like to share me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He blinked.

  Waiting a beat, she asked, “Are you going to answer?”

  He smiled.

  Clearly, wasn’t going to explain that. “What are you eating?” She asked pointing to the odd fruit that Luka was still eating.

  He gazed down at it like he had never seen it before. Holding it up, he narrowed his eyes on it, turning it in every direction before he finally took a giant bite. “Called dragon fruit,” he said with his mouth full, making it hard for her to understand him. “It’s alright.”

  “You know, I’ve never seen you eat anything but fruit. Is there a reason for that?”

  “Do you need help unpacking any of this stuff?” He asked, and for the first time since she met him, his tone made her do a double-take.

  Personal questions were clearly off limits. Whatever his reason for his choice in food was clearly not up for discussion.

  “No, I can do it alone.”

  “Hungry?”

  Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything substantial. She had been surviving purely on vending machine chips and gatorade. It wouldn’t hurt to eat something.

  “Is there a certain place you want to order from?”

  Luka scoffed, tossing the peel of his fruit in the trash as he rounded the island, opening the refrigerator. “I don’t eat fast food.”

  Frowning, she asked, “What do you eat?”

  “I cook.”

  He began pulling out various foods from the shelves, then went hunting through the drawers for cutlery. She hadn’t even realized there was food in there since she and Mishca rarely ate at home.

  “I didn’t know you could cook, Luka.”

  She watched, amazed as he turned a rather large knife over in his hands, pulling out another tool to sharpen it. He moved at lightning speed, completely at ease with what he was doing.

  “That’s why you’re alway eating fruit, isn’t it? Because you don’t eat fast food.”

  He nodded, cutting up a bell pepper and onion. “You got it. So, leave me to my work, go find something to do.”

  With very little choice, Lauren turned back to the dozens of boxes, carrying them back to one of the spare bedrooms where she wouldn’t have to see them. It didn’t feel right opening them without Mishca, and until he was better, they could wait.

  Next, she stripped the bedding, replacing it with clean linen, going over the bathroom next. By the time she finished, she really was hungry.

  Luka was still at the range-top stove, turning off the fire as he pulled two dishes from the top cabinet, setting them side by side. Barely noticing her presence, he went about plating his creation. He looked animated as he worked, the usual tightness in his body gone as he expertly spooned portions onto the plates.

  He even went as far as to garnish the plates, wiping off any excess with the edge of a towel thrown over his shoulder.

  Nodding for her to sit, he pushed a plate towards her, as well as a knife and fork, smiling broadly. “Bon appétit.”

  “What is it?” Since he had gone through the trouble, she thought it would be nice to ask though she knew what half of it was.

  He shrugged, and began speaking in flawless French, gesturing to each thing on the plate, nodding at her like she knew what he was saying. Clearly, she would need to learn more than Russian if she was going to stay around them.

  “I didn’t know you spoke French.” She was learning more about Luka tonight than she had in the months she had known him.

  “I’m learning.”

  “How long have you been studying it?”

  “About a week.”

  Lauren looked up at him with wide eyes, cutting into one of the biggest pork chops she had ever seen. “I thought you were going to say a couple of months.”

  He watched her, seemingly anticipating the moment she finally took a bite. “I’m a fast learner.”

  Finally putting him out of his misery, she took a bite, more than ready to school her features so she wouldn’t hurt his feelings, but there was no need, not with the way he cooked.

  “If you ever give up the life,” said Lauren as she scooped up
some potatoes, “you could definitely be a chef.”

  If Luka were capable of it, she might have thought he would blush at that moment. He placed a hand over his heart, bowing slightly. “I humbly thank you.”

  “Any particular reason you chose to study French?” Lauren asked innocently, trying not to smile when Luka’s lips twitched.

  “None of your damn business.”

  Darkness.

  It was all Mishca could see, all he could feel as he was lost in his own mind. There were brief flashes of images, but nothing that made sense to him, at least not until the pain returned.

  When it came, he felt the burning, ripping sensation of his flesh shredding as the bullet pierced him, nearly taking his breath away as he fought the agony. He wanted to latch onto something, anything besides the unimaginable pain that flooded his chest.

  Mish, don’t die.

  Those words were like an anchor to him, drawing him away from the abyss, back to the surface. They were the last words he remembered, and with them came her smile, her face. He had to wake up, if only because she asked it of him.

  He—

  Mishca took a jagged breath, his eyes opening for the first time, his eyelids feeling like he was ripping them apart, his hand immediately going to his chest where he felt the ghost of the bullet that went through him. While having been shot at, Mishca had never felt the tearing of a bullet through his body, especially not with that caliber.

  Trying to sit up, he stilled when he heard the unmistakable sound of a throat clearing to his right.

  “Wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Klaus said, lacking any real emotion in his voice. “Might tear your stitches…or maybe you should. Whatever.”

  Mishca took a look around, trying to get his bearings before addressing his brother. He should have known this was his work. He knew better than anyone that Klaus would never want him to be happy.

  “Are you here to finish it?”

  “Sadly, that wasn’t me on that rooftop, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Your wife seems to know me better than you. I’ve never missed a mark.”

  Mishca couldn’t help but think back to the last time he had seen Klaus before he had reappeared in his life.