Page 74 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

My gaze lifts from the body to see Damir standing twenty yards away near a black SUV that wasn’t there moments before. His arm is extended, gun still aimed at where the man had stood. His face is carved from stone, eyes cold and deadly.

Anton emerges from the passenger side of the vehicle, his own weapon drawn. He scans the parking lot, speaking rapidly into a communication device clipped to his jacket.

“Perimeter secure. Target neutralized. Get the cleanup crew here now. Hospital security will be responding to the gunshot.”

I stand frozen, unable to move as Damir strides toward me. His expression shifts between murderous rage and profound relief. He holsters his weapon beneath his tailored suit jacket with practiced efficiency.

“Are you hurt?” Damir’s gaze rakes over me, searching for injuries.

I shake my head, still unable to form words. My brain struggles to process what just happened. The man. The gunshot. The blood spreading across the pavement.

He reaches me in four long strides, pulling me against him. His hands move over my shoulders and down my arms, checking for himself that I’m unharmed. His touch is clinical and thorough.

“What were you thinking?” His voice is low, controlled, but I hear the fury underneath. “Where is your security detail?”

“Stuck in the garage. I needed air. The lobby was crowded and I felt sick?—”

“You left a safe spot because you felt sick?” Damir’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You could have been killed, Elena.”

Before I can respond, the hospital’s security team bursts through the emergency exit doors, weapons drawn. Two men in suits—Damir’s men—intercept them immediately, flashing credentials. “Private security contractors,” explains one smoothly. “We responded to an attempted kidnapping of Dr. Antonova. The situation is contained.”

The hospital security guards look uncertain, eyeing the body on the ground.

“We’ve already contacted the proper authorities,” says Damir’s man. “They’ll be here shortly to process the scene.”

I watch in stunned silence as Damir’s team takes complete control of the situation. The hospital security guards lower their weapons, deferring to the men who speak with such authority.

Damir shrugs out of his coat—a beautiful charcoal wool that probably costs more than a month of my old rent—and wraps it around my shoulders. The fabric carries his scent of expensive cologne, cedar, and a trace of coffee. It envelops me like a shield.

“Come,” he says, his hand at the small of my back guiding me toward the SUV. “We’re leaving.”

I glance back at the body. “Shouldn’t I give a statement? The police?—”

“My team will handle everything.” His tone leaves no room for argument as he moves his hand from my back to my abdomen, resting there protectively while he guides me forward.

The gesture makes me freeze mid-step. His large hand splays across my still-flat stomach, warm and possessive. Does he know? How could he possibly know?

I look up at his face, searching for some indication, but his expression reveals nothing when he opens the SUV door for me.

“Get in,” he says, his voice gentler now. “You’re safe.”

I slide into the backseat, Damir following close behind me. Anton takes the front passenger seat while a driver I don’t recognize starts the engine. The interior is warm and smells of leather. Tinted windows shield us from view as we pull away from the hospital.

“Who was he?” I ask, my voice steadier than I expected.

“One of Nikolai’s men,” says Anton, turning in his seat to face us. “We’ve been tracking him for three days. He’s been watching the hospital.”

“You knew someone was watching me?” I turn to Damir, anger flaring. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“We increased your security detail,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.”

“Unnecessarily?” I gesture toward the hospital receding behind us. “That man just tried to kidnap me.”

“And now he’s dead.” Damir’s voice is matter-of-fact. “The threat has been eliminated.”

“Until the next one,” I mutter, pulling his coat tighter around me. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me shaky and cold.

His jaw tightens. “There will always be threats. This is my world and why I have protocols in place—protocols you chose to ignore today.”

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