Page 103 of Marked (Russian Sinners 1)

“I love you.” I tried to say it but with all the buzzing in my ears, I wasn’t sure if I did.

“I’ve got you, milaya.”

Weird, I never even felt the second bullet.And then the world turned dark and I blacked out one last time.

Chapter Forty-One

Dimitry

Icaught her before she could collapse onto the floor, everyone around me forgotten. There was so much blood all over her; my heart squeezed in fear.

She fucking took the bullet for me!I couldn’t believe she would be so reckless. I couldn’t lose her; I would not lose her. I just found my light. She was mine; her life belonged to me.

She didn’t move, and a gut wrenching fear spread through me. Bullets were firing around us, but Misha and the rest of the men took the last stragglers out.

“Stay alive for me, milaya,” I whispered against her pale cheek with yet another bruise on it. My hands roamed her body gently, desperately checking for the point of entrance of the bullets, so I could stop the bleeding.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I found the first wound. I pressed my hand on her abdomen where one of the bullets hit her. “Call the helicopter,” I bellowed at anyone. “She needs to get to hospital. Now!”

Misha took the last man out and pulled his phone.

“Don’t you dare die on me, milaya.” Her skin was pale and cold. Every second counted, and every drop of blood mattered now. I pulled my jacket off and pressed it against her wound, praying it would be enough until we got her to the hospital.

Boris approached staggering, bleeding profusely from his gut. I sheltered Anastasia’s body with mine, rage feeding my anger at this man who had caused her so much pain. I raised my arm and pointed the gun at him. I was ready to shoot him point blank and end him for good. He deserved no better.

“Is she okay?” his voice came out wheezing.

“You saved her from the second bullet that was sure to kill her. Why?” Misha’s question had me surprised. He turned to me. “ETA two minutes.”

Those two minutes were sure to shed ten years off my life.

“She’s my daughter,” Boris muttered, blood seeping through his mouth.

“Don’t get any closer,” I gritted through my teeth. I didn’t give a fuck whether he was her biological father or not, he would not be coming close to Anastasia. I didn’t want that filth anywhere near my woman.

The man had enough smarts to stop and leaned against the wall to slide down to the floor. He didn’t look good but I felt nothing but hate for him. I wanted him dead. It wasn’t enough that he took the second bullet. He should have taken them all. Anastasia should have never gotten hurt. It was all his fault.

“You can keep my daughter safe, Russian Sinner,” his words were gurgled with blood. “I couldn’t have picked a better man. You sold me out, but I’d still pick you for my little russkaya printsessa. Alexandra’s and my printsessa.”

His approval meant jack shit to me. My eyes were glued at Anastasia’s pale face. The seconds ticked like eternity while we waited for the helicopter.

“Don’t leave me, milaya,” I begged her softly, her unconscious body still in my arms. I didn’t care who heard me or how pathetic I sounded. I’d beg on my knees to anyone and anything to ensure she lived. Life without her wasn’t worth living. The sound of the chopper nearing gave me hope. If we could get her into the operating room on time, she could come back to me.

I lifted her into my arms and headed for the roof where the helicopter would land.

“Dimitry,” Boris’ voice called out to me, raggedly. “Tell her… tell her…” I waited, although he wasn’t worth the wait nor words to pass on. I was doing it only for Anastasia. She could decide if his words meant anything. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

I continued on, glancing backwards to Misha. “Take him along,” I ordered.

The next forty-eight hours were the worst ones of my life. My strong beautiful woman barely survived her surgery, her heart stopped while being operated on. I couldn’t bear to talk or see anyone except her. As she lay still in her bed, I murmured senseless words to her, hoping she could somehow hear them… against all odds. Hoping they’d bring her back to me.

Misha called Anastasia’s father and gave him an update on her medical condition. He was already on a flight here. He also called Nikolai and Sergei who insisted on coming. The only thing that stopped them was my order. Anastasia would want them to ensure her friends were taken care of first.

I sat in the chair, next to her hospital bed, her hand in mine. The feel of her hand in mine calmed me down, although her pale complexion scared me. The doctor said if she survived through the next forty-eight hours post surgery, she’d be out of the danger zone. I watched the minutes tick away and each slow steady respirator beep was a relief. It signaled she was still alive.

The drip-drop of the IVs strung up into her veins was the only thing that moved in the room. She was bruised all the fuck over. She had several broken ribs, concussion from the car accident, and lost so much blood. Rage flamed through my veins and I wanted to punish everyone that had a part in my Anastasia’s pain. Starting with Vlad and Boris; I’d rip their limbs one by one. But I didn’t dare leave her for a second, scared she’d leave me for good.

I relived over and over again the moment she took the damn bullet meant for me. When she woke up, we’d have a serious discussion about that. It was my job to save her life, not the other way around.

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