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ChapterNine
Viktor
“I’m sorry, Viktor. I need you, brother. I need…”
Those words have played over and over in my head since I took Oliver’s call over fifteen minutes ago.
The address Angus sent me shows that I’m the closest. I drive like a maniac, needing to get to my brother. Oliver sounded weak—like he was minutes from bleeding out.
Finally, I arrive at my destination. I immediately spot Oliver’s car. I park behind him, toss off my seat belt and rush for him. I step back in shock when I reach the driver’s side door. Oliver is lying on his side. He appears dead.
In a hurry, I yank his door open. Blood is everywhere, and his eyes are closed. My hand shakes with fury and fear when I take his pulse. It is weak but there. Thank fuck.
“Fuck, Oliver, what did you do?”
After surveying the area, I dial Angus.
“I’m five minutes away.”
“Oliver has been shot. I’m taking him to the mansion. Get his car. Meet me at the mansion ASAP.”
Once I hang up, I dial the one person who will be filled with as much anger as me.
“Viktor, please tell me you found him?” Ava sounds as frantic as I feel.
Hell is about to burn.
“I need you to keep the kids upstairs, call the doctor, and ready the downstairs bedroom.”
Since she trusts me more than anyone, she agrees before repeating her seemingly favored mantra, “Be safe. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I reply, grateful she knows when it’s important to follow my orders without question.
Just to make sure he’s still alive, I check Oliver’s pulse again. It’s a weak, pitiful beat but steady and regular.
He will survive this.
With more determination than I’ve ever had, I get him out of his car and into my SUV.
“Fucking hold on. If you die, I’ll be pissed.”
If I was driving like a maniac before, I’m not sure what this is. I make it to the mansion in a record-breaking time. The minute my SUV comes into view of the guards at the gate, it is opened.
I drive to the entrance where Ray and Beiste are waiting. Ray yanks open the back passenger door before I’ve even turned the ignition off.
“Is the doctor here?”
“He is.” There’s a humorous edge to his reply that doesn’t belong.
“What?” I ask, for once, using words before my fists.
“Mrs. Manarch got him here… by pulling him out of the hospital in the middle of assessing a patient.”
Before I can form a response, much less articulate it, Ava barks from the door.
“What the hell is taking so long?”
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Beiste mutters, his face down.
