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Boris reaches the back door, his grip on Julie unyielding. He glances back, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment, an evil smirk playing on his lips. It's a look of triumph, of knowing he's once again manipulated the situation to his advantage.
He drags Julie toward the van, his intentions clear; he going to throw her in the back and disappear into the labyrinth of the city. But the FBI agents—along with Fyodor and myself—close in around him, a tightening net of law and unbridled fury on my part.
I step forward, my voice calm yet firm, trying to reason with the cornered predator. "Boris, there's nowhere to go," I call out, hoping to pierce the bubble of his desperation. "You're surrounded. Let her go!"
Boris’ back is to the van, Julie held tight in his grasp. She begins to come to, her face a mask of pain, confusion, and fear. His hand is shaking as he presses the gun to her temple, his eyes wild and unpredictable. "Back off!" he shouts, the gun trembling against Julie's skin. "Unless you want her dead, you'll let me leave with her!"
The agents hold their fire, in position with their weapons raised but hesitant to risk Julie's life. Fyodor is standing beside me with clenched fists, a silent fury in his eyes, a thick vein twitching in his temple.
The agents stand their ground, guns trained on Boris, but no one dares to make a move that might provoke him to pull the trigger. Fyodor glances at me, waiting for my cue.
I raise my hands, a gesture of false surrender, my gaze locked on him. "Boris, there's nowhere to go," I say, my voice calm but laced with a silent promise of retribution. "Let her go, and you might have a chance."
Julie’s face is pale and streaked with blood, and she’s barely conscious. But beneath her dazed exterior, a spark of defiance flickers. In a sudden burst of energy, she frees one arm and drives her elbow hard into Boris’ gut before twirling herself away from his body.
The unexpected blow catches Boris off guard, causing his grip on Julie and the gun to falter. It's the opportunity I've been waiting for. In one fluid, practiced motion, I draw my gun and fire. The bullet finds its mark, hitting Boris squarely between the eyes.
He crumples to the ground, his life extinguished in an instant. The agents rush forward but my focus is solely on Julie. As Boris’ dead hand releases her, I catch her just before she hits the ground.
"Julie!" I call out, cradling her in my arms. Her eyes flutter closed, her body finally succumbing to the strain and trauma of the ordeal. My heart pounds in my chest, fear and relief battling for dominance.
Fyodor is by my side in an instant, his face etched with concern. "Is she okay?"
I gently brush the hair from her face, examining her for any further injuries. "She's unconscious," I say.
The agents move about the area, their movements efficient and methodical. One of them is on the phone, requesting paramedics and multiple ambulances.
I hold Julie gently to my chest, unsure of the extent of her wounds. The woman I love is unconscious in my arms, having just endured hours of terror with a madman. I make a silent vow that I will never again allow any harm to come to her. I will do whatever it takes to build a life of safety, one free from the shadows of my past.
Chapter 38
Ivan
Igrip Julie's hand tightly as the ambulance races into the night. The paramedics had quickly assessed her condition, determining that she likely had a concussion. Her consciousness came and went, her words slurred and disjointed as she fought to stay awake.
I couldn’t bear to be separated from her so I insisted on riding in the ambulance, kneeling beside her stretcher. The paramedic riding in the back worked around us, attaching monitors and administering oxygen. Every so often, Julie would push the mask off her face, her eyes searching for mine, her grip on my hand tightening.
In one of her more lucid moments after pulling the mask down, she gripped my hand tightly in hers. Her voice was urgent, a startling clarity in her eyes as she said, "Ivan, tell the doctor I'm pregnant." The words hit me like a physical blow, a revelation that sent my heart into overdrive.
"Pregnant?" I echoed, my voice barely more than a whisper. A surge of emotions flooded through me all at once—joy, fear, surprise. "Julie, how long have you known?"
Before she can answer her eyes flutter, and she slips back into unconsciousness. The paramedic quickly replaces the mask over her face.
I sit there, stunned, my mind whirling. Pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. The joy of the news battles with the uncertainty of Julie’s condition and the horror of what just occurred.
I hold her hand, watching her every breath, every slight movement. The paramedics reassure me that they are doing everything they can, but the ride to the hospital feels like an eternity.
As the ambulance speeds through the streets of New York, the city lights blur past us in a stream of colors. I keep whispering to her, telling her to hold on, that everything is going to be okay, that our baby needs her, that I need her.
My mind races with plans and promises, a future that suddenly seems both bright and frighteningly uncertain. The weight of responsibility, the need to protect and provide for my family, feels both overwhelming and invigorating.
The ambulance finally screeches to a halt at the hospital, and the paramedics quickly wheel Julie in. I follow close behind, my heart in my throat, conjuring the courage to be able to deal with whatever comes next. As we rush into the ER, I make a silent vow to Julie and our unborn child that I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, to give them the life they deserve.
Under the fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room, I pace back and forth, each step marking my mounting anxiety and restless thoughts. The antiseptic smell of the hospital mingles with the scent of fear and uncertainty that seems to permeate the air. My mind is a whirlwind of regret and worry, replaying the events that led us here, each moment a sharp stab of self-reproach.
I keep seeing Julie's face, the way she looked at me in the ambulance, the urgency in her voice when she revealed her pregnancy. My heart clenches at the memory, weighed down by a heavy mix of love and guilt. I should have told her I loved her then and there, should have expressed the depth of my feelings when I had the chance. But the words remained unspoken, trapped within me.
I force myself to breathe, to remain calm, but a gnawing fear for our unborn child tugs at my consciousness. The day's trauma, the violence and stress, will our baby be able to survive it? The thought causes a sharp pang in my chest, hope and dread battling within me.
