Page 4 of The Russian's Forced Bride
The Maybach we were looking at was on fire, with sparks flying out and hissing loudly, as the orange embers from the flames licked every corner of the car.
Right by the car was Jaxon Whitmore’s slumped body, a third of his body burnt, with blood oozing out from his side where a shard of glass had penetrated into his skin. The smell of burnt flesh, along with gasoline, ravaged my nostrils as I tried to comprehend what was happening.
“What the fuck happened here?” Matvey demanded to no one in particular.
We stayed at the top of the stairway, watching guards rush to help Jaxon Whitmore, who I assumed was now barely alive, judging by how serious the situation looked.
And the longer I stared at Jaxon Whitmore’s body, it suddenly dawned on me that the hit might not have been meant for the old man, because honestly, it didn’t make any sense why anyone would want him dead.
Had the hit been for me?I wondered, watching as our men now lifted Jaxon’s body off the floor while the sound of sirens blared in the distance.
“It’s a message.” Oskar’s voice, though quiet, cut through the chaos around us as his eyes shifted from Matvey to me.
“And what’s the fucking message supposed to mean, Uncle?” Matvey asked, obvious irritation in his voice as his dark green eyes flicked toward the fire still ravaging Whitmore’s car.
In response to Matvey’s question, Oskar shrugged with a thoughtful expression and said, “We’re about to find out soon enough.”
***
Hospitals are for the damned.
It carried an atmosphere of death that clung to every corner like oxygen in the air. And although most people survived their visits to one, I had only ever seen the life leave the eyes of those who had been admitted.
The unpleasant smell of disinfectant and bleach hung in the air like a ghost, haunting every corner and invading my nostrils as I leaned my back against one of the chairs in the waiting room.
The room, though large and empty, seemed to close in on me, with its gray-toned walls blurring from my peripheral vision. The bright ceiling lights glare into my eyes, making me squint in discomfort as I wait for the doctor’s verdict on whether Jaxon Whitmore would live or die.
Uncle and Matvey had asked me to wait in their place as they began their investigations on whoever had been behind planting the explosive underneath Whitmore’s car.
And though I had no feelings regarding the man himself, I couldn’t help but reel from the mystery behind the attack.
A voice in my head kept telling me the attack had been intended for me, but I didn’t want it to be true.
Sighing, I buried my face in my hands as the ticking of my pocket watch echoed through the room. It was almost midnight, and the only reason I was still allowed to wait at the hospital was because I was part of the Bratva, and the Bratva owned the hospital.
But time was running out, and I had other things back in New York to attend to.
The glass doors of the hospital suddenly swung open, drawing my attention as I slowly raised my head to see a woman stepping into the room.
A fresh scent of vanilla followed her as her heels clicked on the marbled floor, her vibrant emerald-like eyes scanning anxiously.
Her beauty was exotic, like a Roman sculpture that glistened in the morning sun.
A black leather trench coat was layered over her outfit, showcasing her luxurious background. Her fiery ginger hair, resembling a blazing sun, flowed in waves down her back.
I found myself curious about her as our eyes locked intensely for a moment before she made her way over to me, clearly distraught as she heaved heavily, her eyes bloodshot with unshed tears.
“Are you…are you here for Jaxon Whitmore?” she asked, voice steady and soft, yet underneath it was a slight crack, almost unnoticeable.
I now rose from the chair, towering over her slender form, and she inched back instinctively.
I nodded in response to her question, and she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly before she quickly straightened up like a statue.
“I’m Arlette Whitmore, his daughter,” she told me, and my eyes widened slightly in surprise.
She was the same woman who had been engaged to Matvey. I attended their engagement ceremony, but I hadn’t bothered to catch a glimpse of her since I figured she wasn’t worth the trouble.
But something about her piqued my interest.
