Silent Lies: Chapter 18

Something weird is going on.

My eyes wander over the people sitting around the dining table. Everyone is silent, focused solely on their lunch. There’s no chatter, no laughter. That never happens. Meal times are always a cacophony of activity, making it impossible to hear your own thoughts over all the noise. Right now, I bet I could hear a pin drop. Aside from the occasional clutter of utensils, the only sounds breaching the stifling stillness in the room are the voices of the security guards coming through the two-way radio Mirko has set out on the table in front of him. He’s been carrying that thing with him since this morning.

“Gate—all clear.”

“South wall—all clear.”

“Checkpoint A—all clear.”

“Naos—all clear.”

Keva comes up to Mirko and places a plate of food in front of him. He starts eating without uttering a single complaint. Definitely not normal. Mirko always whines about the low-cholesterol diet Keva has him on, but now doesn’t say a word about being served grilled chicken instead of pork chops like the rest of us.

I look at the empty chair to my left. Drago was away most of the day yesterday and returned home well after midnight. I waited for hours, unable to sleep. The images of that stubborn boar—hurt or worse—flooded my mind. My hands were shaking. It started as a tiny tremor in my fingers, but as time passed, it got worse. When the bedroom door finally opened, and he stepped inside, I wanted to run and jump into his arms, hug him as hard as I could to reassure myself that he was safe. I didn’t, because it would mean that I care. It would mean yielding to those dangerous feelings that have been brewing inside me for quite some time. So, I stayed in bed, pretended I was asleep. Those feelings that threatened to burst from my chest? I pushed them down. Pushed them deep, deep down, burying them so they wouldn’t be able to come out.

A woman’s angry yelling explodes in the foyer, pulling me out of my thoughts. All heads snap in that direction, but no one makes a move. I look at Jelena, who’s holding a fork in the air, halfway to her mouth.

“Drago went to get Tara,” she mumbles. “I guess she’s not happy.”

The shouting continues. I get up and dash across the dining room. When I reach the foyer, I find Drago heading toward the stairs, holding a screaming black-haired woman over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She’s hitting his back with her fists, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He lowers her down at the foot of the stairs and barks something I don’t catch.

“I don’t give a fuck,” she snaps in Serbian and pins me with her gaze. “I’m not spending a minute in the same house with her.”

Drago looks over his shoulder at me.

“Italian bitch,” Tara spits out at me in English.

I tense. Even knowing she has every right to hate me, it hurts. I make myself smile while maintaining eye contact. “Hello.”

Drago narrows his eyes at me, focusing on my lips. The lower one is trembling slightly, so I pull it between my teeth.

“What did you say to my wife, Tara?” he asks in a calm tone, but I can see the pulsing vein in his neck.

I take a step forward and place my hand on his forearm, make my smile grow wider. “She didn’t say anything.”

“We’ve already established that your pretense doesn’t work on me, Sienna.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into his body. “She said something that hurt you. No one is allowed to do that. Not even my sister.”

Tara huffs, annoyance written all over her face. She leans against the banister and crosses her arms while her glacial glare drifts back to her brother.

“It was nothing, Drago.” I squeeze his arm slightly. “I swear.”

He searches my eyes and clenches his jaw. “Get to your room. I don’t want to see you until you apologize to my wife. Now, Tara.”

Tara turns around and runs up the stairs.

“You’re overreacting,” I mumble.

“Tara needs to learn to show respect. She doesn’t have to like you, but she will remember that you’re my wife. Especially while she’s under our roof.”

My breath catches. He said our. Not my. I reach out and brush my fingers along his jaw. “What’s going on, Drago? The extra security. Bringing your sister here. I saw guys carrying crates of ammunition to the storeroom.”

“We’re going to intercept the Romanians’ weapons shipment tonight and blow up two of their storage locations.”

“What?” I pinch his chin and pull his head lower. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“It can’t be avoided, Sienna. But don’t worry, you’ll be safe.”

I stare at him. This house is a fucking fortress. Of course I’m going to be safe. But what about him? He’s going to be out there, playing the damn war games with the second-largest criminal organization in New York! He’s going to get hurt.

“Sienna?” He tugs on my waist, tightening his embrace, but I’m spiraling into a bottomless void and can’t pull myself back to reality.

I’m suddenly cold. My hands are clammy, and numbness is settling over me because I know what’s coming.

Someone will enter my room in the middle of the night. They’re going to say that something bad has happened and that I need to be strong. Just like Arturo did when our parents were killed. Just like when Nino came to tell me they found Asya’s things in the snow while my brother was scouring the city for her. I can’t do that again. I can’t.

“Sienna.” Drago is now holding my shoulders. “Baby, are you okay?”

I press my palms to his chest and shove him. Instantly, his hands release me, and I spin and run up the stairs. I can hear him calling after me, but I just keep running until I reach the fourth floor and stop on the landing. My breaths are shallow and rapid, and my hands are shaking. I can’t go into our bedroom. There’s too much of his presence there, even when he’s not physically in the room. I turn in the opposite direction and flee toward the third door on the right. It’s one of the rooms that’s unoccupied. However, when I get inside and lean against the back side of the door, I find Drago’s sister lounging on the bed.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” she snaps. “Get the fuck out.”

“Sienna!” Drago’s voice reaches me from somewhere in the hallway.

I push away from the door, sprint toward the bed, and quickly crawl under it. The sound of heavy footsteps thunders across the floor. Doors are opened and then shut again. The hurried footfalls getting closer. A few moments later, Tara’s door swings wide. I tilt my head to the side and spy Drago’s feet through the gap under the bedcover fringe.

“Is Sienna here?” My husband’s voice fills the room.

I close my eyes. Shit. I thought he wouldn’t look for me here. Tara is going to tattle on me any sec—

“What would your wife be doing in my room?”

My eyes fly open. There’s a stream of Serbian curses and the door slams shut.

Minutes stretch in silence before Tara speaks. “How long are you planning on staying under my bed?”

“I’m not sure.”

The bedframe creaks above me. A hand grabs the hem of the bedcover, pulling it up, and Tara’s face materializes in front of mine.

“I asked Keva about you,” she says, looking at me upside down. “She called you a volcano of happiness. Always cheerful and smiling. You don’t seem very cheerful to me.”

“Fuck you, Tara.”

She wrinkles her nose, a bit of a sneer taking over her face. “She also said you’re super nice. I guess she got that part wrong, too.”

“I’m not going to be nice to someone who called me a bitch.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugs, her hair swaying with the movement.

“So, what did my brother do? Did he threaten to lock you in your room, as well?”

“Nope,” I say, staring at the wood frame just over my head. “He’s just working on getting himself killed.”

“And why do you care? You only married him because your don ordered you to.”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh yeah? Why are you crying, then?”

“It’s the dust,” I mumble and try to wriggle my arm up to wipe my eyes, but there isn’t enough space.

“Sure.”

The sound of steps and Drago calling my name still echo through the hall, but they’re fading. He’s probably moved on to the floor below.

“I think he’s gone. You can come out now.”

“I’m quite fine here, thank you,” I say.

Tara widens her eyes at me and snorts. “Move over.”

I watch in confusion as she gets down to the floor and slides under the bed next to me.

“I’m sorry for calling you a bitch,” Tara mutters.

“I’m sorry Cosa Nostra killed your boyfriend.”

We fall silent for a moment. Just before it starts feeling awkward, Tara takes a deep breath. “He was cheating on me. We broke up a week before he died, but I didn’t tell Drago.”

I tilt my head to the side to look at her. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want him to know I also failed at that.”

“Failed? The guy cheated on you.”

“I cheated on him, too.” She shrugs. “It’s like I can’t do anything right. Drago saved the wrong sister.”

“What do you mean?”

Tara closes her eyes. “When the bomb went off in our home, Drago was downstairs. My twin sister and I were sleeping in our bedroom, which was on the second floor.”

I suck in a breath. Her twin?

“Drago got hurt during the blast, but still managed to get to us, even with the fire raging all around,” Tara continues, her voice shaking. “He couldn’t carry us both at the same time, though. I remember I was screaming, which is probably why he took me out first. Then, he went back inside for Dina.”

“What happened?” I ask, trying to suppress the tears, and failing.

“We had a large propane tank just outside, used for our gas stove. Once the fire from the initial blast spread, it exploded. Drago survived. Barely. Dina didn’t. She inhaled too much of the smoke. They couldn’t save her.” She pauses and sniffs. “Drago still blames himself. He almost got burned alive trying to shield Dina with his body until the firemen got to them, but he still believes it’s his fault.”

Dear God. I can’t even imagine what it was like for either of them.

“He used to grumble about being stuck with two baby sisters, but the truth is, he was the best big brother anyone could ask for,” she continues as her voice shakes. “Used to call us sugar and spice because Dina was so sweet, and I’m . . . not so much.”

I wiggle my hand a bit to the side and wrap my fingers around Tara’s, squeezing. “I’m so sorry.”

She looks down at our joined hands. “I don’t give a damn that you’re from Cosa Nostra, you know. I was just afraid that you’re going to somehow steal my brother from me.”

“Tara, I would—”

“I know,” she interrupts me and smiles. “Did you really put silk ribbons on Drago’s dogs?”

“Yes.” I grin.

Tara blinks at me and laughs. “I think I might move back into the mansion after all.”

“I’d like that.”

“Now, spill.” She squeezes my hand. “Why are you hiding from Drago under my bed?”

“No reason.” I look back up at the wooden bed boards above me.

Drago’s yelling and the thumping of multiple feet still can be heard from somewhere inside the house. I know my behavior is idiotic, but I can’t make myself go out there and face him. I’m afraid I’ll break down and beg him not to go.

“Sienna?”

“What?” I choke out.

“You’re crying again. Are you allergic to dust?”

I close my eyes and mumble. “Yes.”

I slam the final door on the second floor and look down the hallway. Where the fuck is that woman? I’ve checked every damn room in the house, and it’s like she’s disappeared from the face of the earth. I take out my phone and call Relja.

“Bring me Zeus,” I growl into the phone as soon as I see the call has connected and then I head upstairs.

Just as I reach the landing on the fourth floor, the door to Tara’s room opens, and my wife slips out. A strange expression crosses her face when she sees me, but it is quickly replaced with a smile.

“Oh, Drago, were you looking for me?” she chirps as she approaches. “I thought I heard you calling my name.”

My eyes capture hers and I take a step forward.

Sienna takes a step back, still smiling. “Drago?”

I advance another step, and one more until I have her trapped against the wall. Her mask is in place, but her eyes are red. I don’t think I know anyone who goes to such lengths to hide their real feelings. Bracing my palms on either side of her head, I lean toward her until our noses touch. “Stop.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Stop what?”

“Pretending. It may work with other people, mila, but not with me.” I grab her chin. “I see you, Sienna.”

The fake smile disappears. She blinks, and one tear rolls down her cheek. A low growl emanates somewhere behind me.

I look over my shoulder and find my dog a few feet behind me, his teeth bared and eyes fixed on my hand. “Really, Zeus?”

He growls again.

Sienna uses the situation to her advantage, ducks under my arm, and rushes down the hallway. Stopping in front of our bedroom, she throws a quick look at me and winks. “Have fun tonight!”

The door shuts in her wake. Zeus trots toward it and sits down, barring entrance. On guard.

“Traitor.” I shake my head and turn to Relja, whose eyes are bouncing between me and the dog. “Make sure no one tries to get inside my bedroom, or they’ll end up with missing limbs.”

He nods.

* * *

“Is everything ready?” I ask as I’m putting on my holster.

“Yes,” Filip says. “Adam has teams in position near both of Bogdan’s warehouses. They’ll be waiting for our signal.”

“The guy from the fridge?”

“In Iliya’s trunk.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

We leave the house and head toward the SUV parked on the driveway. Iliya and two other men are waiting by the second vehicle. I open the driver’s door, but before I get inside, I look up at the window to my bedroom. It’s easy to spot since it’s the only one lit up on the fourth floor at the moment. Sienna is standing behind the curtain, looking down at me. She hasn’t left the bedroom since this afternoon. I tried getting inside twenty minutes ago, but my dog almost bit my hand off when I reached for the knob.

“What am I going to do with you, mila moya?” I mumble to myself and get behind the wheel.

* * *

The paper factory is two hours away, so we don’t reach it until well after midnight. I park by the fence next to a small service building, and Iliya pulls up behind me. The gate leading into the factory yard is three hundred feet away, around a corner. I exit the SUV and take a look at my phone. There are five pulsing red dots on the screen, marking the location of each of our vehicles. Two of them are moving—Jovan’s and Relja’s cars following Bogdan’s truck. They are about twelve minutes away.

“We’ll seize the opportunity when the gate opens to let the truck through,” I say to the men gathered around me. “Filip and I will handle the guards at the gatehouse. Iliya, you and Milo take care of the driver and turn the truck around. Then, head to the north warehouse, but avoid the major roads. I don’t want it showing up on any of the traffic cams. Vanja, follow them in my SUV. Tomorrow, I’ll see if the Russians are interested in taking the cargo off our hands.”

“What about the security guys inside the factory?” Filip asks.

“Both Jovan and Relja have a three-man team with them, they can handle the mercenaries. As soon as Iliya turns the truck around, the guys will drive inside and directly up to the factory entrance. From there onward, it’s all about brute force and firepower. Adam is on a lookout down the road, but he can provide backup if needed.” I take out my gun and cock it. “We can’t hide our approach. There are cameras at the gatehouse, so they’ll see us coming. Don’t get shot.”

The first part of the plan goes without a problem. As soon as the gate slides to the side, Filip and I use the truck as cover and approach the door on the back side of the gatehouse. We each take out a security guard. By the time we return to the truck, one of my men is already dragging the body of the truck driver away. Iliya jumps up in the cabin and reverses the rig. The moment the gate is unobstructed, two cars shoot past us toward the factory building. A big metal loading door at the front of the structure starts sliding to the side. Bullets rain on Jovan’s and Relja’s vehicles before the factory door is halfway open, making it blatantly evident that there are more men than we anticipated inside.

“Fuck!” I take off toward the firefight, keeping to the road edge and away from the line of gunfire, with Filip on my heels.

Bogdan’s security seems to be focused on Jovan’s team. The guys are returning fire from behind the cars they are using for cover on the other side of the yard. When I’m close enough and have a good angle to see a few of the thugs, I stop and shoot. Filip crouches next to me and fires at the son of a bitch who’s been keeping our guys pinned down from the second-story factory window. Above the pop and crack of flying bullets, the roar of an engine coming up behind us is getting closer. A few moments later, Adam zooms past us on his bike, heading toward the factory door. We stop shooting while he makes a sharp turn and throws a smoke bomb through the entrance. White fog fills the doorway and barrels its way inside the facility.

It’s hard to see the targets with all the smoke around, so I wait until it starts to clear and shoot as soon as the shape of a person becomes visible. Jovan and the rest of the guys have advanced and resumed firing, too. It takes a few minutes for the smoke to dissipate completely, and when it does, seven bodies are sprawled on the ground in a river of blood.

“Someone go get Iliya’s car,” I bark and turn to Adam who’s checking one of the dead guys. “Warehouses?”

“Already burning. I gave the order the moment we were done with the truck.”

“Perfect. Let’s leave the message for Bogdan.”

Ten minutes later, we get into the cars and head home, leaving the naked body of the fridge guy tied to the big iron gate. A sign of a cross carved into the flesh of his chest.

Thirty minutes earlier

“He bought me shoes, you know.” I pull the sweater around me tighter. “I found the bags this afternoon. Three pairs. He hid them in the back of the closet, under a pile of his jeans.”

Zeus cocks his head to the side and regards me.

“Of course they’re for me. Two pairs have rhinestone-covered heels and the third is violet with silver silky ties. I was just kidding when I told him he needed to buy me presents, and he knows it very well. He bought them anyway.”

I look down at the driveway visible from the window. Two of Drago’s men are standing by the garage, smoking. They both have automatic rifles on their backs, and Perun and Jupiter are with them. Further back, in the greenery around the house, there is another group of three, and more are making rounds along the wall that encircles the property. From what I saw when I took Zeus for a walk, there are at least twenty men on guard duty inside the perimeter. There are likely more on the outside.

“He should have taken more men with him,” I continue my one-sided dialogue with the dog. “When I asked Keva why he left so many men here instead of bringing them along, she said Drago didn’t want to risk leaving the house unguarded. There are twelve-foot concrete walls around the compound, for crying out loud!”

Shaking my head, I turn away from the window. “Was he always so thick-headed?”

Zeus straightens his ears.

“Yeah, I bet he was.”

My eyes fall to the phone in my hand. I’ve had a death grip on it since the moment Drago left with his men. It’s been hours. The edges of the damn thing are imprinted into my palm from squeezing it so hard, waiting for Drago to message me back. But he won’t. And I’m left agonizing and worrying if he’s okay.

Why would he when only yesterday I told him that I don’t even like him? So, I messaged him instead. Eight times. There were no replies. Then, I considered calling him. It would be pointless, though, since he wouldn’t be able to clearly hear me, but the sound of his voice would reassure me that he is alive. In the end, I decided against calling because I didn’t want to distract him from . . . from whatever they are doing.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I whisper and run out of the room.

The house is eerily quiet. The thud of my feet and the clicking of Zeus’s nails are the only sounds that echo through the hallways while I dash down three flights of stairs. When I reach the ground floor, I turn left and head to the east wing, stopping at the last door. It’s the room where Mirko spends most of his time. My hand is shaking as I grab the knob and walk inside.

Mirko is sitting at a desk covered in various electronic equipment, with keyboards, wires, and power cables running every which way. Six big monitors showing the camera feeds from around the grounds are mounted on the wall in front of him. His two-way radio has been jammed onto what little room remains on the desktop. The chatter of people over the airwaves is coming through loud and clear.

“Sienna?” Keva’s voice comes from my right.

I turn and find her sitting on a sofa that’s been pushed next to a wall. She’s holding a big mug in her hands, steam rising above the rim. Tara is snuggled up beside Keva, legs tucked under her.

“Are you guys having a late-night party?” I make myself smile.

Keva cocks her head to the side, giving me a pointed look. Her eyes fall to my hips, and I release the hem of my sweater which I’ve been fidgeting with, and hide both my hands behind my back so she won’t notice the shaking.

“He’s going to be okay, Sienna,” she says in a calm voice.

“Oh, I know.” I shrug and place my hand on Zeus’s neck.

“You can join us if you want.”

The sound of gunshots explodes from one of the radios. I freeze.

“And listen to people killing each other?” I laugh. “No, thanks. I’m going to go crash now. Lack of sleep isn’t good for the health of the skin. See you tomorrow.”

I turn on my heel and leave the room, slamming the door closed after me. Despite the barrier, the rat-a-tat of the firefight is loud and clear, and each bang reverberates inside my chest. I run down the hallway and across the foyer toward the front door while Zeus trails after me. When I burst outside, the guard on duty at the front of the house looks at me in surprise.

“I’m taking Zeus out to pee,” I say and take off toward the grounds on the left.

I run around the mansion’s east wing until I reach the last window on this side of the house, then squeeze myself behind the shrubs that grow underneath. Light pours through the open sash, and sounds. Shouting. Gunfire. I can hear it all streaming from the radio in Mirko’s office. Leaning my back against the cold exterior wall, I close my eyes.

My mind is spinning, an avalanche of thoughts about Drago covered in blood barrels through. Overwhelmed, I slouch forward and rock myself back and forth as my insides tie up in knots. I don’t realize I’ve chewed off my nails until there’s nothing left of them. I nearly massacred them earlier, when I was waiting for Drago to reply to my texts, and now I’ve finished the job. It’s not pretty, but it helps to stifle the urge to scream.

Suddenly, Mirko starts yelling. I’m too distraught to understand everything he’s saying, but I catch Adam’s name and something about the number of security guards being greater than expected. The sound of gunfire raging pours from the radio, not just several single gunshots like before, but a full-blown skirmish. The terror that has been brewing in the pit of my stomach grows, spreading through my entire body. I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m being attacked by a wild animal. It’s pawing at my chest, each resounding shot is a slash to my flesh by vicious claws.

I bury my face between my knees and press my palms over my ears as hard as I can. I should have done something. Anything. Maybe, if I told Drago that I’m terrified something bad will happen to him, he would have stayed here, but I was unable to make the words leave my mouth. I was too scared to confess how fucking worried I am about him.

Something wet brushes the back of my palm. I lift my head, finding Zeus standing in front of me.

“He’s not going to die, is he?” I choke out.

The dog leans forward, his big dark eyes regarding me with a question of his own. It’s as if he’s asking me, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t care,” I mumble and pick at the brilliant red leaves of the burning bush next to me, striping the branch bare of its beautiful colors. And then another. And another. The vibrant reds that have always brought me joy when I’ve played outside with the dogs are now mocking me. Reminding me of my nightmarish thoughts.

Drago.

Blood.

Death.

I can’t stop. I keep ripping off the leaves with all the vigor I wish I could put into silencing the gunfire still ringing from Mirko’s open window. My fingers are cramping, and my palms are raw from pulling at the branches of the bush, but I don’t stop until there isn’t even a single red leaf left within arms’ reach. The low-hanging branches of the shrub are stripped, many broken. But the ruin I’ve caused is a futile result of my impotent rage.

I wish I could rip out the feelings I have for my husband as easily as the leaves. Just tear them out and throw them away.

People say that loving someone is the most amazing feeling ever. It’s not. It is absolutely the worst. The more you love them, the more it’ll hurt when they’re gone.

The deafening sounds of the gunfight suddenly cease. I look up to see Keva closing the window above my head, cutting off the radio broadcast. It’s somehow easier like this, no longer hearing what is happening.

Zeus takes a tentative step toward me and nudges my shoulder with his nose. He’s been observing me as I lost my shit this entire time and hasn’t interfered. I wrap my arm around his neck and stare at the destruction laid bare at my feet.

* * *

The rumble of approaching vehicles brings me out of my thoughts. Several cars, and the distinct roar of a bike, fill the stillness of the night. The men are back. I should run and see if Drago is okay, but I can’t make myself move. My foolish idea is that if I stay hidden, bad news can’t find me. Have I reverted into a naive child covering my face with my hands, believing that the bogeyman won’t come?

“Three hours ago?” Drago’s voice reaches me. “If she’s not found within the next five minutes, I’m going to gut someone! Sienna!”

I take a deep breath. He’s okay. Angry as hell, judging by all the yelling, but okay.

Crawling from under the branches of the burning bush, I leave my hiding place and rush across the lawn toward the front of the house. My hands and pants are stained with soil and vegetation, and I’m pretty sure I have some twigs and leaves in my hair, as well.

Drago is in the middle of the driveway, holding the guard I passed earlier by the front of his shirt and shouting into the man’s face. He notices me as I come closer, and shoves the man away. The ambient light falls on his face, revealing every sharp line. His jaw is clenched, his nostrils flaring, as he glares at me through narrowed eyes. He looks ready to strangle me. I stay rooted to the spot as he approaches. His long but slow strides eat up the ground until his chest almost bumps my face.

“What the fuck are you doing outside in the middle of the night?” His voice is low and strangely steady. A calm before the storm.

I raise my hands and press them to his chest, then slowly glide my palms down across his rock-hard abs. When I’m done with the front of his torso, I trail my fingers up his arms to his shoulders and down again on the other side, checking every part of him. No injuries. His back is next. I press my forehead over his breastbone and slide my hands under his jacket. Nothing at the small of his back. I glide my palms upward and over his shoulder blades, making sure I don’t miss a spot. This is as high as I can reach. I think his shirt would be wet if he was shot higher, but I need to be absolutely sure.

I step back, take the front panels of his jacket, and start pulling it off.

“Sienna.” His voice is hushed. Soft.

“Shhhh.” I throw the jacket on the ground and shuffle around him to scan his other side.

There are no blood stains on his shirt, but I rise onto my toes and pass my palms over the tops of his shoulders, and his upper back just in case. When I’m done, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek on the expanse of his back.

“Satisfied?” he asks, turning around to face me.

I nod and tighten my hold on him.

“You have leaf crap in your hair, Sienna. Care to explain?”

I shake my head. He can think whatever he wants. Maybe he’ll decide that I’m nuts.

Rising on my tiptoes, I pull him down for a kiss, then jump into his arms. Drago’s lips feast on mine, sucking and biting as he carries me inside the house and up three flights of stairs. Only when we reach our bedroom does he release me from his hold, and only for a moment while we tear off each other’s clothes. And then, I’m in his arms again. Trailing a line of kisses along his chin before peppering them all over his face. He’s alive. He’s okay.