For Better and Worse by E.B. Roshan

Author:E.B. Roshan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roshan Publishing
Published: 2021-04-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: ANNA

Slowly, the fog in my head cleared. I could feel Aunt Oksana clinging fiercely to me, her chin digging into my shoulder. I could see and breathe again. The bus rumbled on.

Oh, God, help us, save us, show us what to do.

Terrible things happened to people all the time, even to people who loved each other—who'd sacrifice anything for each other. What made Boris and I different? Nothing. God hadn't promised to keep us safe—but He had said He'd be close when we were in trouble.

The loudspeaker on the bus announced the stop in an almost-unintelligible crackle, and the doors swung open with a creak and a hiss. I stared toward them in a daze.

Outside, someone cursed loudly. Another voice, higher-pitched, cried out in pain. Shoes scuffled. Someone or something thudded against the side of the bus.

The passengers closest to the doors went still.

Lev rose halfway out of his seat, horror on his face.

A bulky man came stomping through the doorway backwards, breathing hard and dragging a second, smaller man by the forearms. The second man's head and face were completely covered by what looked like a torn white undershirt.

My first thought was that he was a friend, or a fellow White Horse hurt in the fighting, and the first man was helping him to the hospital. But that didn't make sense. No one would treat an injured friend so roughly. And why wouldn't they have taken a car if he needed to get to the hospital quickly?

A third man, also powerfully built, with flakes of snow in his short blond hair, sprang on board behind them. It was Maxim Porofky. I gasped. He didn't see us, or if he did, he didn't make any sign. Maxim shoved the second man to his knees. Spots of blood seeped through the fabric wrapped around his head.

If the White Horses had wanted to make an impressive entrance, they'd certainly accomplished it. There were only a handful of passengers on the bus besides us and the Andreyevs, but all eyes were fixed on the three of them.

Maxim and the other big man pushed the bandaged one into a seat and took their places on either side, pinning him between them.

Two Tur men I hadn't noticed before and the woman with the shopping bags left the bus in a hurry, giving Maxim and the other White Horse a wide berth.

Luba, Lev, Aunt Oksana, and I sat frozen. Even if it had been our stop, I couldn't have moved to get off.

"Horrible..." Aunt Oksana whispered. Her lips were the same yellowish-gray as the rest of her face.

The man between the White Horses whimpered.

"Sit still," Maxim hissed.

The smaller man thrashed, arching his back in agony. He jerked a hand free of Maxim's grip and clawed at the shirt tied over his face. The lines tattooed across the back of his hand stood out almost black against his pale skin. Each finger was marked down its length with small, blue-black dots. He must be Tur.

Maxim wrenched the hand back down and twisted it behind his back.

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