“Don’t you dare die, Lev Fedorov,” she snarled, her voice as nightmarish as always. “Don’t you dare. Not yet, Lev, not yet. We were supposed to have more time,” she gasped, pressing her forehead to his. “We were supposed to have a book, Lev, you promised me a long story—and for fuck’s sake, you idiot, you owe me, you can’t die while I’m furious with you—while I—” She choked slightly, anguished. “You can’t die while I haven’t told you how I—how I feel, Lev, fuck!”
