Page 38 of Ruthless Vow
The nurse slips in quietly behind me and starts taking Anya’s vitals. I take a step back so she can do her work.
“The pain will spike when she wakes,” the nurse says quietly. “I’ll try to wake her up every few hours to keep the pain medicine constant.”
“Thank you,” I reply, unable to take my eyes from Anya’s sleeping face.
“She needs rest,” she adds. “She’ll need to stay in bed for a few days while this heals.”
“She can get as much rest as she needs,” I say.
The nurse hesitates, then looks at me like she’s choosing her next words carefully.
“The pregnancy is very early, and this amount of stress is dangerous.”
My jaw tightens.
“That’s why you’re here,” I remind her. “It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t experience any more stress.”
The nurse nods because she knows better than to argue. She gives me a list of instructions anyway. Watch her breathing. Watch her color. Watch for sudden abdominal pain. Watch for fainting. Keep her hydrated. Keep her calm.
She must think I’m a miracle worker. She clearly hasn’t experienced Anya awake enough.
The nurse leaves to set up her own room. She’ll stay as long as we need her, and as long as we keep her paid.
I stand at the foot of the bed and watch Anya breathe. She’s so weak and vulnerable in this state. It’s such a stark contrast to her standing next to me, shooting down Mikhail’s men. She’s not in any fighting shape now.
Sergei appears in the doorway, watching me. When I notice him, he nods for me to follow.
“What?” I ask when we step out into the hall.
“We’ve moved the injured,” he tells me. “Two are stable, one is not. He’s losing a lot of blood. The doctor isn’t sure if he’s going to last the night.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Alexei,” Sergei replies. “He was in the rear vehicle.”
I nod once, considering this. Alexei has a wife in Bensonhurst and a kid who just learned how to ride a bike. He was so proud.
“You tell the doctor to do whatever he can to save him. Spare no expense. I’m not losing another man.”
He nods.
“What’s the street looking like?” I ask.
“We cleaned up the area as much as we could,” Sergei answers. “Police are going to write it up as gang violence. They’ll blame whoever is convenient. Mikhail’s men disappeared fast. They pulled bodies and they took their wounded.”
“They didn’t want a trace,” I say.
“They didn’t want proof of the attack,” Sergei corrects. “They wanted you dead and her alive. That was the objective.”
My throat tightens. “They didn’t get it.”
“No,” Sergei agrees, then pauses. “Viktor, we need to talk about relocation.”
“We already relocated,” I remind him, gesturing around to the new house.
He sighs. “I mean next steps. This place is secure, but the city is compressing. Mikhail is going to escalate after today. Ivan is going to escalate after today. People are going to start making desperate decisions.”
“Let them,” I answer, unbothered.
