Page 86 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

In the confusion, in her shock, she hardly says anything at all as they lead her away from Royce’s corpse and whatever horrors happened in this basement today. As they lead her away from me.

Rodion removes his jacket and wraps it around her shoulder while I stand up, wincing and gasping.

I’m frozen in place, feeling numb. Overwhelmed by everything that’s happened and the idea of losing her.

I watch her disappear through the door. Out of my sight.

Renat slaps me on the shoulder. “Thanks for keeping him occupied,” he sighs.

“Yeah. Sure,” I mumble back. Pressing my hand over the bullet wound on the front side of my body.

“Oh, fuck, sorry man,” Renat says, seeing the blood. “It looks like it went clean through you. You better get that seen to.”

I nod, “Yeah. I’ll get it sorted.”

I follow him up the stairs, out to where we parked the cars.

Ruslana is already gone.

They piled her into that car and drove her out of here at full speed.

She’s gone and I doubt I will ever see her again.

I sway, unsteady on my feet. I must have lost more blood than I thought.

I hear Renat saying something, then he pushes me into the passenger side of my own car.

I’m in and out of consciousness as he drives me to the hospital. One of his brothers is following us.

Outside the hospital, they leave me in front of the emergency section. I watch them, in a daze, as they drive away in their own car.

At least they brought me here. They didn’t leave me to die.

Knowing that I am the one who kidnapped their sister I would have expected them to just let me bleed to death.

I drag myself into the emergency entrance and nurses rush towards me shouting medical terms I don’t know.

My body is lifted onto a hospital bed.

She’ll be ok.

That’s the last thing I think before I pass out completely.

She’ll be ok.

***

“He’s waking up,” a voice drifts past me.

I open my eyes and take a deep breath. The steady beep of a heart monitor sounds above me.

“Hey there, we were worried about you for a bit—but you’re doing great,” a woman in a white jacket says, smiling broadly.

“Where am I?” I mumble.

“You are in the League City Hospital. You were brought in yesterday with a bullet wound. Surgery was successful. We stopped some heavy internal bleeding, and the bullet went through and through—just missing some vital organs I might add—but all in all you are going to be fine.”

I sigh and try to sit up but pain shoots through my side.

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