Page 35 of Ruthless Vow
“From one to ten,” she repeats.
I stare at her.
She stares back like she’s had this conversation with tougher men than me. “I need a number.”
“Six,” I answer, though it’s closer to a nine.
She nods once and adjusts the bed slightly, raising the head so I’m not flat. The movement sends pain slicing under my ribs again. I keep my jaw tight and refuse to make a sound. The nurse watches my face like she’s measuring whether I’m about to do something stupid.
“You have two cracked ribs,” she says casually.
“Is that all?” I mutter.
“And bruising. A lot of it. The bullet didn’t penetrate. You’re extremely lucky.”
Funny, I don’t feel lucky. I feel pain and I feel shame. There’s also the confusing emotions from choosing to take a bullet for a man I thought I hated. Lucky, though? Not one bit.
The nurse checks the monitor, then the IV again. She makes a small adjustment to the drip, hopefully letting in a little more pain reliever than I’m getting. Her hands are steady, and I notice myself watching them the way I used to watch my mother’s hands when she cooked. Like I’m hoping to find comfort in her movements.
“The doctor will be in soon,” she says.
My stomach tightens. I know Viktor is out there somewhere, just waiting to hear that I’m awake. I’m not ready to face him just yet.
The nurse finishes and steps toward the door.
“Try to rest,” she says, then hesitates like she’s deciding whether to offer sympathy. She decides against it. “You need it.”
The door shuts behind her. My breathing stays controlled, shallow enough to avoid lighting my ribs on fire. My hands curl under the blanket, nails pressing into my palm. In the back of my mind, I think of the pregnancy.
He knows. He must know. He brought me here and he’s not the kind of man to care about HIPAA laws. That thought makes my pulse jump, and I hate it. This isn’t something I was readyto share, and the choice was taken away from me. How am I supposed to face him now?
The door opens again and I’m out of time. Viktor walks in and shuts it behind him. He stops a few feet away from the bed like he’s forcing himself not to crowd me. His eyes move over me in a quick scan, not lingering on my face for long, dropping to the IV, then to the blanket over my ribs. His jaw is tight. His hair is slightly messy. There’s dried blood on his cuff.
“You’re awake,” he says nonchalantly, though I can see the tension rippling under the surface.
“I wish I wasn’t,” I rasp.
My voice sounds weak. My throat feels tight, though I’m not sure if it’s from pain or fear. Viktor’s eyes flick to my mouth in concern. His gaze drops to the monitor again.
“How do you feel?”
“Everything hurts,” I answer.
He nods once then steps closer to the bed. His hands stay at his sides. He doesn’t touch me.
“The doctor says you have two cracked ribs,” he says slowly.
“Might as well be all of them,” I mutter.
His mouth twitches faintly, but he doesn’t let himself smile.
“I wish you could have more pain medicine, but…”
He trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish his thought. I know what he’s thinking. If I confirm it, though, it’s out there forever. There’s no taking it back. I’m not sure if I’m ready to be the first one to break.
Viktor’s gaze sharpens. “You shouldn’t have moved me out of the way.”
That’s not at all what I expected him to say. Maybe he doesn’t want to be the first one to break either.
