Chapter 157

• The Ivan I know is strong. Unshakable. Even in the worst situations, he carries himself with a quiet, effortless confidence that makes you believe nothing could ever touch him.
• But the man lying in this hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and the sterile scent of antiseptic, looks nothing like that.
• His skin is pale, almost sickly under the fluorescent lights. His face, usually so sharp and alive, is slack, lips slightly parted as if he’s lost in a sleep too deep to wake from. Bandages wrap around his head, a stark contrast against his dark hair, and an IV snakes into his arm, keeping him tethered to life.