Page 106 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

I see Elena’s face pale at his words. The realization that Nikolai has been watching us that closely enrages me. “How did you find out about the baby?”

“Some rich brat at the hospital who dislikes your wife. He was happy to spill everything he knows just for the price of buying him a couple of drinks and listening to him whine. I almost shot him just to shut him up.” Nikolai laughs.

I think I hear Elena say, “Justin,” but I’m distracted as Nikolai continues provoking me with words, trying to wear me down since we’re evenly matched physically. I stiffen at the next thing he says.

“Better to let the child die now than grow up with a father like you,” he says, his eyes gleaming with malice.

Something in me snaps, and I charge him with renewed fury, driving him back across the room. My fists connect with his face,his chest, and anywhere I can reach. I don’t feel the blows he lands in return. All I see is red.

“You will never touch my family,” I say, my voice deadly calm despite the rage coursing through me. I haven’t had an opening to get to my Glock19, ankle gun, or ceramic knife. We’re too closely quartered and engaged in more visceral fighting.

Nikolai’s back hits the wall, and I pin him there, my hand around his throat. For a moment, I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. It’s possibly the first time I’ve ever seen Nikolai afraid. It’s certainly the first time since we started fighting.

Then his expression shifts to a smirk. “You still don’t understand, do you? This was never about territory or business. This was about taking everything you love.”

I don’t see the knife until it’s too late. The blade slides between my ribs with sickening ease, and the pain is sharp and immediate. I release Nikolai, staggering back, my hand going to the wound. Blood seeps between my fingers, and it’s warm and slick.

Nikolai advances, the bloody knife held low. “I wanted you to watch as I took your wife, your child, and your empire. I wanted you to live with that knowledge, but plans change. Just know, she’ll be dead minutes after you, and your legacy dies with her and the spawn in her womb.”

He raises the knife for a killing blow. I try to move, to block, but my body isn’t responding as it should. The room tilts slightly as the edges of my vision blur.

A sudden gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space. Nikolai jerks, a look of surprise crossing his face as a red stain blooms on his chest. He turns slowly, looking behind me.

Anton stands there, his gun still raised, expression cold. “You talk too much,” he says.

Nikolai collapses to his knees, and the knife clatters to the floor. He looks at me, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, and tries to speak. No words come out before he pitches forward onto the floor.

The adrenaline that kept me upright begins to fade, and the pain intensifies. I press harder against the wound, but blood continues to seep through my fingers. My vision narrows, darkening at the edges.

“Damir?” Elena’s voice seems to come from far away.

I turn toward the sound, my movements sluggish. Through the gathering darkness, I see Casey crawling toward the exit, leaving a trail of blood behind him before he collapses. The pool around him grows much bigger in a short amount of time. The sight should satisfy me. The man who betrayed Elena, who put her in danger, is now bleeding out. Instead, I feel nothing but a strange emptiness.

My knees give out, and I sink to the floor. Elena’s face appears above me, pressing her hands against my wound. Her lips move with words I can’t quite hear. The last thing I see before consciousness slips away is her eyes, filled with tears and fierce determination.

31

Elena

The hospital room is dim, with only the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the space. I sit beside Damir, brushing my fingers against his bandaged side. The white gauze is stark against his tanned skin, a visual reminder of how close I came to losing him. The steady beep of the heart monitor provides a comforting rhythm in the otherwise quiet room.

It’s been two days since I managed to stop the bleeding long enough to get him to the nearest hospital for emergency surgery. Two days of sitting in this uncomfortable chair, watching his chest rise and fall, of doctors and nurses coming in and out, checking vitals, changing IV bags, and giving me sympathetic smiles.

The antiseptic smell of the hospital room burns my nostrils, mixing with the faint scent of Damir’s cologne that somehow still clings to him despite everything. My medical training tells me his color is good, his vitals are stable, and the worst is behindus. My heart, however, refuses to believe it until I see those blue eyes open again.

I reach for the cup of lukewarm coffee on the side table, grimacing at the bitter taste. Hospital coffee is universally terrible, but it’s keeping me awake. I’ve barely slept, afraid to close my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time.

When he finally stirs, his eyelids heavy and breath deep, I exhale sharply, relief washing over me like a tidal wave. “You’re awake,” I whisper, setting down the cup with a shaky hand.

His voice is gravel when he speaks. “Did I die?”

I laugh, the sound watery and soft. “Not yet.”

His fingers brush my wrist, weak but still possessive. Even now, in a hospital bed, with tubes running from his arms, and monitors tracking his every heartbeat, he manages to make me feel like I belong to him. Like I’m the most precious thing in his world.

“The doctors say you’ll make a full recovery,” I say, my voice steadier now. “The knife missed your vital organs. You lost a lot of blood, but you’re going to be fine.”

He scans the room before returning to my face. “Nikolai?”

---