Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I heard footsteps and tried to muster the strength to reach for my gun, but I didn’t have it with me. The door blew open, and Creed’s voice was the first I heard, “Jesus Christ…”
He was followed by Grim, Skid, and Goose, and I had no doubt that the others were close behind. Skid was the first to go to Lina. He was Grim’s kid, and he was a good one. He didn’t rush to take her down. First, he buttoned her shirt, making sure she was covered, and then he and Goose got to work on releasing her from her restraints.
Even with everything that was happening, Lina never took her eyes off me. She was muttering for them to help me, but I knew it was too late. I was losing too much blood. I was as good as gone. Preacher knew it, too. I could see it in his eyes when he knelt down beside me. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I got to her.”
“Yeah, you did, but you bout got yourself killed in the process.”
“Had to.” I started to feel cold, and my eyelids were getting heavy. “I love her, Preach.”
“I know you do, son.” He looked over to Grim and said, “We need to get him to the hospital, and we need to do it now.”
Grim nodded, and together, they lifted me off the ground. When they started for the door, I rolled my head toward Preacher and muttered, “Lina.”
“We got her,” he assured me. “You just hold on. Stay here with us. You hear me? You stay here with us.”
He was right there, but his voice sounded so far away. Lina’s did, too. I could hear her crying as she called out to me, but her words seemed to fade off in the distance.
The world tilted sideways.
Then everything went dark.
26
ALINA
Idon’t remember the ride to the hospital.
One second, I was being carried out of the house, and a blink later, we were there, and Preacher was guiding me through the sliding doors like I was half-conscious. I hadn’t seen Sergei. They put him in the other truck with Goose and two other men I didn’t recognize, and they sped off before I had a chance to see him.
I had no idea how he was doing, but in my heart, I knew it wasn’t good. I’d seen the way he’d dropped to the floor, and the way blood pooled around him. I knew he needed help, and God, how I wanted to give it to him.
I wanted to crawl to him, cover his body with mine, and press my hands to his wounds. I wanted to whisper his name and tell him I loved him, and maybe then he would know he wasn’t alone. Maybe then, he wouldn’t go.
I tried to tear myself from those damn cuffs. I tugged and twisted until my wrists burned and my shoulders throbbed. I didn’t care. I kept pulling. I pulled until my wrists were wet with blood, but the cuffs wouldn’t budge.
I cried and pleaded, but my prayers went unanswered.
I’d felt helpless before, but never like this. No beating or kidnapping or even being drugged and hung up for show could compare to seeing Sergei suffer and not being able to get to him. I wished I could’ve traded places with him. I would’ve taken the blade. I would’ve let the light go from my eyes if it meant keeping it in his.
But fate had other plans, and now, all I could do was stand there and pray that someone would come. I watched his body grow limp. I heard his weak voice tell me he was there, but I could see it in his eyes. He was slipping away, and a piece of me was slipping away with him.
I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard Preacher announce, “We’re here for Sergei Volkov.”
“He was taken back to surgery,” the nurse answered coldly. “We will let you know as soon as we hear something.”
I was still dazed and barely made out Preacher’s words to me when he insisted I get checked out. I refused. I was too worried about Sergei to think about anything else. I sat down, and I vaguely remember someone asking me questions. I might’ve answered. I wasn’t sure. Everything was such a blur that I couldn’t remember much of anything.
Preacher came over and sat down next to me. “How you holding up?”
I looked at him, and all I could do was just nod.
“Sent Goose to get you some clothes.”
I nodded again.
“They’re working on him.” He placed his hand on my knee. “He lost a lot of blood, but they’re doing what they can.”
They’re doing what they can.
Not that he was going to be fine.
Not that he will pull through this.
My stomach twisted, and I pressed my fingernails into my palms, hoping the bite against my flesh would keep my tears from falling. “You think he’ll…”