Natasha
Mikhail and I stood there in the wreckage, my arms wrapped around him from behind, both of us trembling for different reasons.
He trembled out of anger and I did out of fear and shock.
I could feel his heart racing against my chest, the tension slowly draining from his body as the rage ebbed.
Slowly, he turned in my grip until we were facing each other.
This close, I could see everything. The way his pupils were blown wide, the flush on his cheeks from alcohol and fighting, the small cut above his eyebrow bleeding slightly.
His chest heaved with each breath and his hands came up to grip my shoulders, steadying himself or me, I wasn't sure which.
"Are you—" The words caught in my throat. "Are you okay?"
He blinked, seeming to come back to himself. "Me? I should be..."
He
