Page 21 of Innocent Bratva Virgin

Vlad ducked his stare for a moment, sighing. As he pulled up the notepad again, I sat back in my seat. It was an odd unfairness that he got to be able to think about what he wanted to say—or write, rather—while most of us were at the whim of words that blurted out of us.

When he held up his message again, I leaned forward in the chair to have a look.

I’m sorry. I didn’t have a lot of options. But I am grateful.The word was underlined.You didn’t have to do what you did. I’ll remember that.

All I could do was release a heavy breath. Vlad had a pretty low opinion of people if he didn’t think that I was honor-bound to help a man dying in my office. Still, that held up with what I already knew about the guy.

“Well, you’re welcome. I wasn’t about to let you—”

I stopped speaking as Vlad looked to the door behind me, and his eyes flared wider than I’d ever seen them. His brows were at his hairline, and I noticed the immediate tension that took hold of his jaw.

“What? Are you okay? Did the stitches—”

But Vlad held up a hand, cutting me off again, which was impressive for a guy who wasn’t speaking. He put a finger to his lips and then pointed outside our room. I turned in my seat, looking across the hall at the open beds that sat across from this recovery room.

A few men of similar muscular physiques were set up on the beds out there, with still more surrounding the injured ones. I could see a mass of leather jackets and dark suits on the men, their auras giving off a distinct intimidating effect.

Something about them made shivers run down my spine, and I looked back to Vlad to see him glaring daggers at them.

“Wait.” I glanced between my patient and the other men, the puzzle pieces falling into place. “Are they the ones who shot you?”

I kept my voice to a whisper, and when I regarded Vlad again, he didn’t meet my eyes, just nodding in slow motion.

“Oh my God. Do you want me to call the—”

He grabbed my hand, halting me. “Okay, I got it. Don’t call anyone. What exactly would you like me to do then? Are you good with just waiting to be dismissed?”

Vlad eyed me, cocking his head in that way that made you feel like the guy was saying, “Seriously?”

“Then what, Vlad? What do you want?”

With a deep breath that I could see taking over his entire body, Vlad lifted the blanket off him, glancing down to check his bandages. He put a hand on his hip, pressing down.

“What are you doing?! Don’t mess with it!”

I tried to swat at him, but Vlad yanked his leg away before quickly hanging both legs off the bed.

“Vlad,” I whisper-yelled at him, “you can’t stand up. You probably need crutches or something. Stop it.”

But he didn’t listen, standing up from the bed smoothly until the weight settled on his bad leg. He groaned but just shook his head, forcing himself forward through the pain. He snagged his bag of clothes and pulled out the pants. As he held them up, the two halves of the right pant leg hung limply.

“I told you they had to cut them off. You’re not wearing those anytime soon.”

He turned over his shoulder and glared. With not nearly as much effort as I expected, he stuffed them back in the bag and crossed the room to me. I just looked up at him as he towered over me.

It was a moment before he jerked his head toward the door, pointed at me, and mimed the motion of driving a car.

“You want me to take you out of here?” Shock reverberated as he nodded. “Now?”

Vlad nodded again, grabbing my arm and hauling me toward the door.

“You haven’t been dismissed! Your leg!”

He clapped a hand over my mouth as we stood just behind the curtain pulled over to block the window into Vlad’s room. He put a finger to his lips, silencing me. As I waited there, held perfectly still by him, I noticed shadows on the other side of the curtain.

The men Vlad had noticed before were approaching the door after I’d yelled.What the hell is going on?

After another moment, they disappeared, and Vlad looked around the corner. I was quick enough to pick up on the fact that he didn’t want to be seen by them, and it struck me that these “gentlemen” across the way had just been in some type of altercation with Vlad, and he’d been shot. He’d also come crawling into my office instead of going straight to the hospital, and he looked more concerned about those men out there than he did about his own injury.

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