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Fuck, there’s too much going on.
Where are Simon and Dahlia?
Shit, shit,shit.
“D-Dimitri—”
“Save your breath, angel. I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
Boris and the rest of my team enter the house with their weapons drawn. If they’re as stunned as I am, they don’t let it show.
“Spread out!” I command. “Find my son. Boris, call for an ambulance.Now!”
“Right away, sir!” they yell in unison.
“Dimitri…” Natalya whimpers. She struggles to keep her eyes open. “Dimitri…”
“I’ve got you. Just hold on, alright?”
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Natalya. Now, please, save your strength.”
“My fault…”
I hold onto her hand for dear life. She’s not making any sense. Her breathing is shallow and labored. How the fuck did this happen? Regret sits heavily on my shoulders, the never-endingwhat ifsplaguing my mind. If only I hadn’t gone to the meeting. I should have been here with her and Simon. I could have protected them, could have kept them safe.
“Where the fuck is the ambulance?” I roar.
“On their way, sir,” Boris informs me, phone still in hand.
I shake my head, distraught. They’re not going to make it in time. My world has been flipped on its axis. If I do nothing, Natalya will die in my arms.
Upstairs, my son’s distressed cries reach my ears. I look up to find Dahlia holding my boy, surrounded by the guards I sent searching for them. They both look unharmed, but the moment her eyes land on Natalya, her face crumbles like a house of cards.
“Oh my God!” she shrieks. “Oh my God, is she—”
“Stay with them,” I order. “Boris, start the car. We’re taking her to the hospital ourselves.”
He nods. “Right away, sir.”
Very carefully, I lift Natalya in my arms. She winces, but her cries of protestation are weak and barely audible. “I’ve got you,” I whisper over and over again as I rush back out to the car. She tries to say something, keeps apologizing, but she doesn’t make any sense. She’s losing too much blood.
The drive to the hospital feels like it takes forever. The smell of iron has burned itself into my nose. My chest aches. The only assurance I have that Natalya is still with me is her weak grip on my hand. My stomach lurches, but there’s no time to be sick. The second we pull up to the emergency room doors, I’m quick to get out and carry her inside.
There’s a lot of shouting, mostly on my part. I’m not sure if I’m making any sense or not. The nurses look disturbed, the doctors just as concerned. When they wheel Natalya away on a stretcher, I try to go with them. I don’t even think about it. Unfortunately, the reception area staff rip me away, saying something along the lines of how I’m not allowed to follow her into the emergency room. It’s fucking bullshit. Ihaveto make sure she’s okay.
“Sir,” Boris says firmly, grasping me by the shoulders. “Sir, sit down before they throw us out.”
I’m cold. Shaking. Boris somehow wrestles me into a seat in the waiting room, putting up with my nonsensical yelling. The poor bastard definitely deserves a raise. It isn’t long before the numbness sets in, a terrible ringing in my ear threatening to leave me deaf.
Why the fuck is this happening? Was it Levitsky? Did he show up at my place hoping to catch me off guard and put a bullet between my eyes?
Time means nothing to me. I can’t tell if a few minutes pass or whole hours. All I know is my palms are stained red and I’m so dizzy I can barely hold myself up. To say I’m overwhelmed is an understatement. There’s so much I have to do. I need to inform Mikhail of the attack. I need to check on my son. I need Natalya to be okay.
But I can’t find my strength. Not when things have gone so disastrously wrong.
A nurse approaches, her brows furrowed steeply. I stand immediately, waiting on bated breath.
