Page 29 of The Bratva's Hunted Bride
“What?”
“You need to drive. They’re just going to follow us until we get rid of them, aren’t they? So give me the damn gun!”
A shot blasts through our rear window, sending glass everywhere. The next shot could take me out, and at the speed we’re going, the crash could be fatal for Talia. I’d rather she stay safe and low in the car, but we’re out of options. I hand her the gun. She braces herself on the top of the seat, and I force myself to focus on the road.
“Hold it steady,” she says. There’s a deafening pop as she fires off a shot. “Shit.”
She fires the rest of the clip and gasps. “What? Are you okay?”
I look away from the road and see a look of triumph and horror on her face. “I think… I think I got him. Jesus. I think I got him.”
She’s as white as a sheet. I glance in the mirror and see she’s right, the car is veering wildly into the trees. It collides with a bang, and suddenly we’re in the clear.
“Nice shot.” I put my hand on her leg and give it a gentle squeeze. “You did what you had to do, Talia. Breathe now. Come on. In and out, slow and steady. He was going to kill us, all you did was what you had to do.”
I keep up a steady stream of words until I hear her breathing start to slow from the hyperventilation it had been heading toward. She’s still ghostly pale, eyes flared in shock, and her leg trembles beneath my palm.
“Grab my hand and squeeze,” I say, flipping my hand over so she can lace hers into mine. She listens, obeying like she’s in a trance. “Squeeze harder. Ground yourself right here and now. We’re safe. We’re leaving all that behind us, okay?”
She squeezes my fingers tightly, her little hand dwarfed by mine. When she speaks, it’s so quiet I can’t hear her at first, and I have to ask her to repeat herself.
“I think I’m bleeding,” she says, mumbling. “There’s some… some blood here.”
No, no, no. I crane around to see what I’d miss while driving. Blood soaks down Talia’s arm, all over her side, and to her leg, streaming from a gunshot wound on her arm.
“Fuck. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. Just hold on to me.” I jerk the car over onto the shoulder and slam the brakes.
In my car, I keep a first aid kit for these situations, but a quick search of the glovebox comes up empty. Now I know it wasn’t just shock making her ghostly pale; it was blood loss. Fear floods my system, clouding rational thought. It’s a new feeling, something I didn’t know my body was capable of, and it takes everything in me to focus on the situation.
I channel it into rage, yanking my shirt off and ripping a strip free from the bottom half. I crouch down beside her and wrap the fabric around the wound to stem the flow of blood, then catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger to look in her eyes. Pupils are wide from shock, but she’s able to track my movement.
“We’re going to get you to the doctor,” I reassure her, tucking her back against the seat before shutting the door. Holy shit, there’s so much blood.
When I find out who these men are, I’m going to take my sweet time carving them into pieces. I’m going to carve her name into their chests and choke them on their own blood. I’ll string them up by their innards and—focus. There’s time for revenge later.
I pull out my phone as we drive and call in a favor from the Milov family. The drive to the private clinic takes too long even at the speed I’m going, fear making cold sweat prickle down my back. My hands are slick on the steering wheel. If anything happens to Talia, there won’t be a safe place in the world.
We whip into the parking lot of a pristine white building. There’s only one other car parked there, but I scan the area before I get out, one hand glued to my gun. If they found us at the hideout, there’s no telling where they might pop up next.
“Almost there,” I say to Talia, scooping her from the passenger seat right into my arms. “Stay with me. I’ve got you.
She weighs nothing, and her body is frighteningly limp in my arms. She’s conscious, but barely, and the sight of all the blood on the seat makes me sick. With how small she is, how much blood can her body really hold? It seems like more than half of it must be spilled on the upholstery.
I sprint for the door and kick it with my foot until a startled nurse appears to open it.
“Where’s the goddamn doctor?” I push past her into the hall of the clinic.
The doctor appears from one of the doorways, a middle-aged woman in a white coat, grey-streaked hair pulled into a bun. “The doctor is right here. Bring her in.”
The nurse follows a step behind. It’s an operating room, state-of-the-art and perfectly clean. I lay Talia down on the table and smooth a lock of hair away from her face. She blinks up at me.
“I’m fine,” she says, patting my hand, like I’m the one who needs reassuring in this situation. “I’ll be okay. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
But her words do nothing to quell the tidal wave of fear roaring through my body, knocking all sense from it. She has to be okay. She has to.
“You’ll need to wait outside,” the doctor says, moving into the space beside me. The nurse starts to unwrap the shirt from Talia’s arm. “There’s a waiting room just down the hall. We’ll be out to talk to you when she’s stable.”
Her tone brooks no arguments, and as much as I don’t want to leave Talia’s side, I don’t want to do anything that could delay her treatment even more. I step into the hall and take a shaky breath. This doctor is good, I know that much, and I have to believe that Talia is in good hands.
