Page 54 of A True King

He crouches down next to me, pulling a knife from his pocket and ripping through my shirt, exposing what looks like a gash in my side.

“Medic!” he calls out to someone nearby who runs around Mia and glances down at me. He leans toward my side, examining it with a gloved hand.

“He’ll need stitches, but it’s just a flesh wound,” the man says. “Your Highness, we’ll need to transport you to the hospital to get that taken care of.”

I look over at Mia. She’s surrounded by medics.

“Mia, help Mia,” I say to them.

Jack puts a hand on my shoulder. “She’s been shot, Christian. They are stabilizing her now. We’re going to have to evacuate her to the hospital. Can you tell me who did this?”

“Pete, I think. I…don’t know. In the woods.” I point and Jack nods to a man next to him who takes off running in that direction.

“Vince. He shot Vince,” I say, pointing to where Vince went down.

Again, Jack motions for a medic, directing him toward the field. Seemingly out of nowhere, Mia and I are being lifted onto stretchers.

Two helicopters land in the field as a third one circles.

“We’ll take you by helicopter,” Jack says to me.

“Mia first,” I command. He nods and says something to a medic who’s working on Mia. Four medics lift Mia and head toward the closest helicopter.

“Your father’s plane went down over Germany,” Jack says to me as I’m lifted on the stretcher. “I’m waiting on units that are responding to the crash scene, but for now…you’re king. This is your country and I’ll take orders from you and the prime minister. Get stitched up. We have many loose ends to wrap up. Starting with what we want to do about your girlfriend being first in line to the throne of Skogdal.”

“First?” I ask.

“King Ivan is dead,” he states. “Go, I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

And with that, I’m lifted into the helicopter amid chaos. My refuge looks like a war zone. The love of my life may be dying. And my father…may already be dead.

Chapter Thirty-One

Mia

Quiet. So very quiet, except for a beeping, an annoying beeping. I try to reach out to stop my alarm clock.

“Stop,” I mumble. My throat is sore. I swallow but it feels like I’m eating sandpaper. I cough. Why can’t I move my arm?

I try to open my eyes but I’m so tired. I swear I hear my name. I manage to open them. Everything is out of focus at first. The light is so bright that I immediately shut them again. When I open them again, I see a heart monitor. Hospital. I’m in a hospital. I close my eyes once more because this can’t be real. Maybe I’m dreaming.

“Mia,” the voice permeates the air again.

Then I feel it, a hand rubbing my arm. I groan as I register pain in my abdomen.

“Nurse!” the voice yells.

There are more voices, but I’m so tired it’s hard to follow what they say. People keep saying my name and time to wake up, but I don’t want to.

I drift in and out of consciousness, but finally, it’s lips on my forehead, familiar lips pressing against my skin that stirs me from my sleep.

“Christian,” I croak, my voice scratchy as I whisper his name. I open my eyes and blink several times, allowing the room to come into focus again.

I’m still in the hospital, only this time, I see a face. His face. He looks like an angel with the fluorescent lighting behind his head, giving him a halo.

“Am I dead?” I whisper. My voice sounds like I’ve smoked a pack of cigarettes.

He smiles but I can see tears in his eyes. He shakes his head. “No, my love. You are very much alive.”

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