Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Anna
The helicopter blades roared deafeningly overhead, the downdraft so strong I could barely stay on my feet. I gripped the stretcher's edge, refusing to look away from Alexander's pale face.
He'd lost consciousness.
In those final moments before they loaded him onto the helicopter, his eyes had slowly closed, and the hand that had been clutching mine fell limp. I'd screamed his name in terror, but he never responded.
"His blood pressure's dropping!" the medic shouted frantically. "Hemorrhagic shock! We need blood, now!"
Ivan helped me into the helicopter. In the cramped cabin, medical personnel swarmed around Alexander—IVs, blood transfusions, oxygen, vital signs monitoring. The machines shrieked their warnings, each alarm hitting my heart like a hammer.
"Alexander!" I tried to get closer, but the medics blocked me.
"Ma'am, let us work!" one of the doctors barked. "Sit down and buckle up!"
I was forced into a corner seat, but my eyes never left him.
He lay on the stretcher, pale as death, his lips colorless. The thick bandages were already soaked through with blood, crimson still seeping out. The heart monitor's line grew increasingly erratic, beeping frantically.
"Heart rate dropping!"
"BP sixty over forty!"
"Prep the epinephrine!"
The medics' voices mixed with the rotor noise, each word making my heart sink deeper.
"No... no..." I sobbed, tears streaming down my face. "Please save him... please..."
Ivan sat beside me, his face grim, knuckles white as he gripped the handrail. Even this usually composed man had worry flashing in his eyes.
The helicopter raced through the night sky, New York's lights sprawling below, but my world had shrunk to just that man lying on the stretcher, hovering between life and death.
"Hold on, Alexander," I whispered, knowing he couldn't hear me. "Please, for me, for Sofia... you have to hold on..."
The ten-minute flight felt like a century.
When the helicopter finally touched down on the hospital's rooftop helipad, a team of doctors and nurses were already waiting. They quickly transferred Alexander to a gurney and rushed toward the elevator.
I tried to follow, but a nurse stopped me.
"I'm sorry, family members can't enter the OR."
"Please, let me stay with him!" I was practically begging. "I won't get in the way, I just want to be near him... he was holding my hand, he needs me..."
"Ma'am," the attending physician approached—a man in his fifties with steady eyes.
"Trust us, we'll do everything we can. But what you need to do now is wait and let us focus on surgery.
His condition is critical—severe blood loss, he's already in shock.
We need to operate immediately to stop the bleeding. "
I was forced to stop, watching helplessly as Alexander disappeared behind those heavy doors that slammed shut in my face.
My last glimpse was of his pale face and blood-soaked bandages.
When the red surgery light came on, all the strength drained from my body. My legs gave out, and I slid down the cold wall to the floor. My hands were still stained with his warm blood, now drying to a dark rust color.
His final words before boarding the helicopter echoed in my ears: "I love you too... always..."
Then his eyes had closed, and he hadn't woken up.
If he died... if he died saving me... if I never heard his voice again, never saw his smile...
The thought made it impossible to breathe. My chest felt crushed by a boulder, the suffocating sensation making me curl into myself.
"He won't die," I told myself, my voice shaking. "He's too strong, he promised Sofia, he wouldn't break his word... he said he'd marry me, said he'd watch Sofia grow up with me... he won't die..."
Time crawled. The hallway clock ticked away, each second an eternity. I lost track of how long I'd been there—maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour.
The OR doors remained sealed, the red light still glowing.
The hallway was empty except for me. Ivan had gone to arrange security and handle the aftermath, the other men standing guard outside. The entire floor had been cleared, leaving me alone with this deathly wait.
I hugged my knees, burying my face in my arms. Tears soaked my sleeves, but I was beyond making a sound.
Memories flooded my mind—his cold stare when we first met, his teasing smile at the restaurant, his vulnerability when he'd opened up about his trauma in the car, the tender moments watching him play with Sofia in the manor garden...
And all those times I'd misunderstood him, hurt him. I hadn't trusted him, I'd left him, pushed him away. Yet even after I'd left, he'd searched desperately for me, risking his life to storm that slaughterhouse.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry, Alexander. If you survive this, I swear I'll never leave you again, never doubt you. Please, just live..."
Suddenly, urgent footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
I looked up to see Yekaterina rushing toward me, breathless.
"Anna!" Yekaterina gasped when she saw my condition. "Dear God..."
She stared at the blood covering my clothes, her face going white.
"Katya," I managed, my voice so hoarse I barely recognized it. "Sofia?"
"She's been escorted back to the manor safely. I watched her fall asleep. But you... Alexander..."
"He's in surgery. The bullet... it went through... I don't know..."
Before I could finish, I noticed someone following behind Katya—Tatyana.
She wore a simple black coat, her hair casually tied back, no trace of her usual perfect makeup, just exhaustion and weariness.
Our eyes met, the air seeming to freeze.
Tatyana slowly approached and stopped in front of me. Then, surprising me completely, she gave me an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet but clear. "I tried to set up a decoy to draw the enemy away and protect you both. But I underestimated Marcus's intelligence network. Made things worse instead. Nearly got you both killed."
She looked up, tears glimmering in her eyes. "When I learned through my network that you'd been kidnapped, I immediately contacted Ivan. I'm the one who told them you might be at the slaughterhouse. If my plan had worked, you never would have been taken. This is all my fault."
I stared at this woman who had once made me jealous and suspicious, now seeing nothing but sincerity and guilt in her eyes.
She laid out her entire plan—how she'd deliberately leaked false information on monitored calls, how she'd designed the "witness's daughter" files as bait, how she'd prepared a trap at a fake address on the west side... Every detail matched what I'd heard from the kidnappers.
"You did all this... to protect us?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Yes," Tatyana nodded. "Alexander is one of the most important people in my life, even though we can't be together. But I want him happy, want the people he loves to be safe. You and Sofia... you're his whole world."
She paused, finally letting tears fall. "I love him, so I wanted to protect what matters to him. But I failed. I almost got him killed."
I shook my head, tears flowing again. "I'm the one who should apologize. I shouldn't have suspected you, shouldn't have stopped trusting Alexander... If I'd just stayed calm, if I'd verified the facts, if I'd chosen to believe him..."
My voice choked off. If I hadn't left the manor, Alexander wouldn't have been in that desperate situation, wouldn't have taken a bullet saving me.
"No," Tatyana said. "Your reaction was normal. Any woman seeing that 'evidence' would have made the same choice. My plan wasn't thorough enough—I didn't consider that you might see those materials."
We looked at each other in silence, all past grievances dissolving into a single sigh.
Finally, Tatyana took a deep breath and wiped her tears. "He's only ever risked his life like this for you. Take good care of him."
She turned to leave, but I called out. "Tatyana."
She turned back.
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "Thank you for protecting us, thank you for loving him."
Tatyana gave a bitter smile. "Don't thank me. He deserves to be loved, deserves happiness. And you... you're the one who can give him that."
She took one last long look toward the OR, then resolutely turned and walked away. Her figure disappeared at the end of the hallway, exiting our lives forever.
I knew this would be the last time I'd ever see her.
Yekaterina sat beside me and held me tight.
"He'll be fine," she whispered in my ear. "He's too strong to die."
I leaned against her shoulder and finally broke down completely. All the suppressed fear, guilt, and regret poured out in that moment.
After what felt like forever, the red light above the OR finally went out.
I shot to my feet, practically running to the door. My legs were numb from sitting so long, but I didn't care.
The door opened, and the attending physician emerged, pulling off his mask. His face showed exhaustion, but his eyes held light.
"Surgery was successful," he said. "We removed the bullet. It damaged the shoulder blade and some muscle tissue, but no vital organs or major blood vessels. He lost a lot of blood, but the transfusion was timely. He's out of danger now."
"Really?" I could barely believe it. "He's... he's really okay?"
"Yes," the doctor nodded. "Though he needs proper rest. No strenuous activity for a while, and the wound needs regular dressing changes. Fortunately, he's in excellent physical condition, so recovery should be relatively quick."
My legs nearly gave out, but Yekaterina caught me.
Tears came again, but this time they were tears of relief and gratitude.
"Thank you," I told the doctor. "Thank you all."
"It's what we do," he said. "He'll be moved to the VIP ward soon. You can see him, though he's still under anesthesia—might be a few hours before he wakes up."
Thirty minutes later, Alexander was transferred to a VIP ward on the top floor. It was a suite with a separate living room, bedroom, and bathroom—more like a hotel than a hospital room.