Page 225 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
“No.” Panic rises again. “No, you need to call him. Yaromir Volkov.”
The nurse’s expression changes. Only slightly.
Everyone reacts to that name. Even people who pretend not to know it.
“I’ll inform the doctor,” she says.
“No, now.” I try to sit up again, and pain flashes white-hot through my side. A cry tears from my throat.
The nurse presses me back gently but firmly. “You can’t get up.”
“I need to find him.”
“You need to stay in bed.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand that you were pulled from a canal with a gunshot wound, hypothermia, and water in your lungs.” Her voice stays calm, but sharper now. “You were extremely lucky. The bullet passed through soft tissue along your side. It missed anything major. You have bruising, a mild concussion, and some water inhalation. You are not walking out of here.”
I look down at myself for the first time.
I’m in a hospital gown. There’s a thick bandage wrapped around my side beneath it. My arms are bruised. There are scratches along my wrist and a dark mark where Dmitri grabbed me.
My ring is gone.
My throat tightens.
“He’ll think I’m dead,” I whisper.
The nurse pauses. “What?”
“My husband. He’ll find the blood. The river. My ring.” My breathing speeds up again. “He’ll think I’m dead.”
“Anya, breathe slowly.”
“You don’t understand what he’ll do.”
The nurse’s expression is grim. “We’ll do our best to contact him. Just stay calm,” she says firmly, leaving the room.
I fall asleep with my hand on my stomach.
Not because I want to. I try to stay awake. I try to listen for footsteps, for the nurse, for someone to come back and tell me they’ve called Yaromir, that he knows I’m alive, that he’s on his way.
But my body has other plans.
Pain, fear, cold, blood loss, the river. They pull me down before I can fight properly.
When I wake, the room is darker.
The lights are dimmed. The monitor beside me beeps steadily. My throat is dry, and my side aches with a deep, heavy pulse beneath the bandages.
For a moment, I think I’m alone.
Then I see the man standing beside my bed.
I jerk upright too fast. Pain tears through me, and I gasp, grabbing my side.
“Easy,” he says.
