Chapter 5 Fury
Alexander’s body jolted violently. His knees gave out at once, the strength leaving him in an instant.
The color drained from his face as he pitched forward, collapsing straight into Mia.
His full weight slammed against her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.
His head dropped heavily against her shoulder, his body going slack.
Warm liquid spilled down the back of his head.
Blood.
The man who struck him stumbled, his own legs giving out seconds later, crashing to the ground a few feet away. But Mia didn’t spare him a glance.
Her entire world narrowed to the man in her arms.
“Alexander… Alexander…” she whispered frantically, her voice trembling as she tried to hold him up.
Her knees hit the pavement as she lowered him, unable to keep him standing. His upper body remained slumped against her, his forehead pressing into the curve of her neck, breath shallow and uneven.
Her hand flew to the back of his head.
It came away warm. Wet.
She stared at her palm, stained red.
Mia’s breath shattered. Her chest seized so tightly it hurt. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring everything.
“No… no, no, no…” she whispered, panic spiraling. “Please wake up… please…”
Her hands shook so badly she could barely move. Fighting hysteria, she fumbled through the scattered bags, finally grabbing her phone. Her fingers were numb as she dialed Allen’s number.
He answered almost immediately.
“Where are you?” Mia blurted out, words tumbling over each other. “Did you come with Alexander? Where are you right now?”
“Mrs. Graves?” Allen’s voice sharpened instantly. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I—I’m behind the Lester Hotel,” she sobbed. “Alexander—someone attacked him—he’s bleeding—he’s hurt really badly—”
Her voice broke completely.
“Please send me your location immediately,” Allen said, his tone tight with urgency. “I’m nearby and on my way. I’ll contact the police and an ambulance right now.”
“Okay…” Mia whispered.
Her fingers trembled uncontrollably as she tried to press the screen. Tears dropped onto the phone, smearing the display. She wiped at it with her sleeve again and again until she finally managed to hit send.
The moment the message went through, the phone slipped from her hand and hit the ground.
She didn’t even notice.
Alexander was still half-kneeling, half-collapsed against her, his weight heavy and unmoving. Mia wrapped both arms around him instinctively, holding him upright, holding him close—like letting go would mean losing him.
His blood soaked into her clothes, warm against her skin.
Her entire body shook violently. Breaths came in short, broken gasps. Every second stretched endlessly. Every heartbeat felt like a scream in her ears.
“I’m here,” she whispered over and over, pressing her cheek to his hair. “I’m here… just stay with me…”
Five minutes passed.
To Mia, it felt like forever.
When a familiar black car turned into the street, she lifted her head sharply. Summoning what little strength she had left, she raised her arm and waved frantically.
“I’m here!” she cried out, her voice hoarse with panic. “Allen—over here!”
She kept waving, even though the car was clearly headed toward her, her body refusing to calm down.
The car screeched to a stop.
And then—sirens.
Police lights and an ambulance barreled toward them, red and blue flashing across the narrow street as the sound cut through the frozen air.
Mia tightened her arms around Alexander as the world rushed back in.
***
Mia’s breath came out in timid, broken shivers as she sat in the hospital lobby, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
Her heart pounded so hard it felt lodged in her throat, each beat loud and painful.
Fear, confusion, and a strange, unbearable anticipation tangled inside her chest, making it hard to think straight.
She couldn’t read the signs on the walls properly.
The words blurred every time her eyes skimmed over them.
Even lifting her head felt exhausting. Each time the lobby doors slid open with a soft hiss, her body jerked instinctively, shoulders tensing, heart leaping—hope and dread rising together before crashing back down again.
Alexander had been taken into the operation theatre two hours ago.
Two long, endless hours.
And still—nothing.
Her fingers trembled nonstop, no matter how tightly she pressed them together.
Earlier, she had scrubbed the blood off her hands in the washroom sink, rubbing until her skin burned and turned raw.
But no matter how much she washed, the memory of his blood—warm, sticky—clung to her.
Dark, dried patches still stained her clothes, stark against the fabric, impossible to ignore.
Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow and uneven. Her phone buzzed again and again in her hand, but the sound barely registered anymore. She didn’t check the screen. She didn’t move. She just sat there, frozen, as if any movement would shatter what little control she had left.
Then—
Footsteps echoed through the lobby.
Mia barely reacted at first. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor until several men dressed in black entered her blurred line of vision. They moved with urgency, scanning the area. Behind them walked another man—tall, sharp-featured, his presence commanding even in panic.
Something about him felt eerily familiar.
He strode straight toward the operation theatre, his jaw tight, eyes sharp as they flicked around the lobby. Tension radiated from him in waves.
“We need to shift Alexander,” he snapped. “Find out if emergency airlifting is possible. We’re taking him back to Manhattan.”
One of the men nodded immediately and rushed off.
Mia didn’t look up.
She stayed seated, shoulders slumped, staring blankly at the floor tiles. The words barely reached her ears. All she could hear was the frantic thudding of her own heartbeat, loud and relentless.
But the man noticed her.
His steps slowed.
His gaze sharpened as he turned toward her, his brows knitting together. He walked closer, bending slightly, as if trying to confirm what he was seeing.
His voice stopped mid-breath.
Shock flickered across his face.
Then disbelief.
“Mia?”
The sound of her name finally cut through the fog.
Mia’s head lifted slowly, almost stiffly, as she looked up at him. Her eyes widened as they met his—gray, sharp, unsettlingly familiar. He had dark hair, a clean-shaven face, and strong, striking features that mirrored Alexander’s in a way that made her chest tighten.
He stared at her for a second too long.
Then he ground his teeth, turning his face slightly away as anger slipped through his composure. His voice dropped, rough and incredulous as he muttered under his breath,
“I knew there wouldn’t be any other woman that damn fucker risk his life for. Fuck…!”
Mia stared at him, confusion washing over her. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say—or if she even had the strength to speak.
Before she could process anything further, the man who had rushed off earlier returned quickly.
“Mr. Graves,” he said, slightly breathless. “The doctor has refused to provide details about the operation. He insists the patient cannot be moved until discharge. But Mr. Graves is fine now—it wasn’t a serious injury. He just needed stitches.”
The man turned sharply, fury flashing across his face.
“Tell that damn doctor Magnus Graves is taking his brother away,” he snapped. “And if he has a fucking problem with it, he can come talk to me himself.”
He then turned to another man and barked, “Make the arrangements. We’re leaving with Alexander in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.” The man hurried away.
Magnus ran a hand through his hair, frustration burning in his eyes. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down, then turned back to Mia. His steps softened as he approached her again.
“Mia, I don’t understand what’s going on between you and Alexander,” he said, his voice controlled. “But I know this—he may be harsh and cold with everyone else, ruthless even, but I don’t believe he’s ever been cruel to you.”
He paused, studying her pale face.
“Then why is there still so much distance?” he asked, tension seeping into his voice. “Why are you keeping yourself away from him when his life has been on hold, waiting this long for you?”
Mia looked at him, stunned, her hands tightening in her lap. “...This long?”
Magnus sighed and bent slightly, then sat down beside her. He leaned back against the chair, turning his body toward her so he could look at her properly.
“Hasn’t he told you yet?”
Mia stayed silent.
Her silence was answer enough.
Magnus exhaled slowly and continued, his voice lowering.
“Do you remember when you went to your grandparents’ house as a young teenager?” he asked. “You met a slightly older boy there—the one who used to bring you flowers. He lived across from you. The rich family’s house. One of the biggest houses in the village.”
Mia’s eyes softened as a distant memory stirred. A young boy with an arrogant temper and an oversized ego—yet oddly gentle with her. The details were hazy, his face unclear, but the feeling lingered.
She nodded faintly. “Yeah… I remember a little.”
“That boy was Alexander,” Magnus said quietly.
Mia’s breath hitched.
“You might not remember him clearly,” he continued, his voice tight, “but he remembers everything, every moment with you. Do you know how he lived all these years? Looking for you. Waiting to see you again—only to find out you’d married someone else when he went overseas.”
Mia’s body stiffened.
Her fingers trembled as her chest tightened, the weight of his words crashing down on her all at once.
“That’s why he has so many pictures of you,” Magnus continued, his voice low but steady. He leaned back slightly in the chair, one arm resting against the armrest as his gaze stayed fixed on Mia. “He liked you back then. A lot. He planned to propose to you after finishing his studies.”