The Final Hour

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The Final Hour Page 12

by London Miller

People were shouting in Russian, scrambling around. She knew a few were already running out the building, splitting up to go hunt for the gunman in the adjacent buildings.

  Lauren didn’t move from her spot next to Mishca, not even when the EMTs arrived. Someone had to grab her from behind, drawing her away to let the paramedics do their job. They moved lightning quick, picking him up to place him on the stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over his face.

  His eyes were still on her as they began wheeling him out of the room. She never bothered to look back at who was holding her, just lurched free of his hold, holding the front of her skirts to hurry after them. By the time she got inside, the elevator doors were closing. Cutting to the right, she wrenched the door to the stairs open, kicking off her heels on the way down. She didn’t care that she was nine floors up, she was determined to get down there.

  By the time she got outside, the ambulance was just pulling off. Luka was hurrying over to her, stowing his gun at his back. The valet was standing there looking shell-shocked.

  “I don’t have my ticket,” Lauren said in a rush. “We had the black Mercedes.”

  He just stood there gawking at her, specifically at the blood covering her hands and dress where she had grabbed the material..

  Luka fisted the front of the man’s shirt, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he yanked him forward, getting so close to the man’s face that their noses nearly touched. “Move!”

  He shoved him away, not caring that he was attracting more attention. For once, Lauren was glad that Luka was around. When the valet pulled around in the car—much faster than they would have without Luka—he was preparing to pass the keys to Lauren when Luka snatched them out of his hand, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  Lauren couldn’t argue as she got in the car, Luka pulling off before the door was closed. Her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely get her seatbelt buckled. The ambulance wasn’t too far ahead, but because its sirens were on, it was able to glide through traffic with ease.

  As the cars began to realign, Lauren was afraid they would lose the ambulance, but she had underestimated Luka’s determination to keep up with it. He floored the gas pedal, sending them both back against their seats, the car jolting forward. Angry drivers honked, swerving out of the way to avoid getting hit.

  They were almost to the hospital when a different kind of siren blared behind them, flashing blue lights reflecting in the rearview mirror. Lauren turned around in her seat, peering first at the police car trying to catch up with them, then over at Luka.

  “Don’t worry about them. I’ll handle it. Just get in there.”

  Jerking the wheel to the right, Luka nearly drove up on the curb, startling the people walking. Lauren hopped out of the car in a flurry of motion, slamming it shut behind her as she rushed into the hospital. Looking back, she saw the police finally arriving behind Luka. They withdrew their sidearms, ordering him to get out of the car. With his customary smirk, Luka climbed out, his hands over his head as they rushed over to put handcuffs on him. When he noticed her still watching them, he jerked his head, a silent message for her to get going.

  Spinning on her heel, Lauren hurried through the sliding doors, right up to the front desk. The woman seated there looked like she had been on duty all night and into the morning, the fatigue clear on her face, but when she saw Lauren in her wedding dress, blood staining her hands and the fabric, she perked right up.

  “I’m looking for someone they just brought in,” Lauren said in a rush. “He was, bullet and—”

  She wasn’t making any sense, she could tell from the look on the woman’s face as well as the other nurses that were gathering nearby.

  “I’ve got this, Irene,” a female doctor said hurrying over, her light blue scrubs covered in blood.

  “Where is he?” Lauren demanded as the doctor pulled her to the side.

  “First, I need to know who you are.”

  Lauren knew that the woman was legally bound to ask her that, protecting patient’s privacy and all, but she was dangerously close to losing it, and asking her stupid questions was going to make her go over the edge.

  “I’m his w-wife.”

  There it was, the first time she was able to say the words. Sadly, it also had to be on the day that Mishca’s life was in jeopardy.

  “Okay Your husband is in surgery right now, Doctor Clarke is the head surgeon who will—”

  “How is he though, when you saw him? He’ll be okay, right?”

  The doctor smiled gently. “We won’t know for sure until he comes out of surgery.”

  “But how long will that take,” Lauren insisted.

  “I’m sorry, but at this time, there’s nothing more I can tell you. When Doctor Clarke is done in surgery, he’ll come and find you himself.”

  There was nothing more Lauren could do but watch as the doctor walked away, leaving her standing in silence as people walked by, trying to conceal their pity at her bloody wedding dress.

  She dropped down into one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders now. Sometimes, when faced with a horrendous situation, it didn’t feel real and the extremity of it would be forced to the back of the conscious, but Lauren didn’t have that.

  For the first time all day, everything felt too real.

  She could still hear the screams as people ducked and shouted, the feel of Mishca being knocked backwards with the force of the bullet.

  The fear in his eyes because he knew he was dying…

  Lauren squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but this time, there was nowhere for her to escape to.

  Minutes later, everyone else started to arrive. It wasn’t hard to spot her—the lone female wearing a wedding gown. Susan and Ross were first, both wearing different expressions of anxiety. Lauren looked away from Ross, not wanting to see the judgment in his eyes.

  Without a word, Susan gathered her into her arms, shushing her as soon as she started to cry.

  As more people arrive, Lauren didn’t bother acknowledging any of them. She was still sitting in one of the waiting chairs, far off to the side, but no one was going to approach her, not when she was wearing a bloody dress.

  “Sweetie.” Amber spoke carefully, like she was afraid to frighten her. “I brought you some clothes so you could change.”

  Lauren heard her, even saw the small bag that had her clothes in it, but she wasn’t ready to get up. Not yet.

  “I’ll stay right outside the door,” Amber amended, noticing Lauren’s hesitation. “If they call for you, or if I see any doctor talking about Mish, I’ll come in and get you. Promise.”

  Thanking her, Lauren took the bag, heading off to the restrooms. It was vacant, and in the lengthy mirror that spanned a wall, Lauren saw her reflection for the first time.

  Blood shot eyes, mascara tracks beneath them, and Mishca’s blood was everywhere she must have touched. For a moment, she wanted to break down again, the sheer severity of the situation almost too much, but she held the tears back, and turned on the taps to one of the sinks.

  She had to disconnect from what she was doing as she washed the blood clean from her hands, taking wads of paper towels to clean her face. When she was finished, she went over to the door, pulling it open to see Amber standing exactly where she said she would be.

  “Could you unzip me?”

  She turned, waiting patiently as Amber undid each of the buttons, then pulled the zipper down. Lauren was trying not to get frustrated as she reached for the ties of the corset, but when she couldn’t make any progress, Amber produced some scissors and just cut her out of it. With that done, Lauren changed and stuffed her dress into the bag, tossing the ruined corset in the trash, rejoining Amber out in the lobby.

  Ross and Susan stood as they came back into the waiting room, and everything Lauren was feeling was reflected on Susan’s face. Lauren was too afraid to even look at Ross, afraid of what she might see there. And really,
she was too tired to deal with his judgment.

  “What have they told you?” Susan asked gently.

  It didn’t take long for Lauren to disclose that information, especially since there wasn’t that much to begin with. Alex and Luka walked up together in the middle of her brief description. It was different having Alex there. They all cared for Mishca in their own way, but Lauren doubted anyone cared for him as much as she and Alex did.

  But Alex was handling this rather well, at least from what Lauren could tell. Maybe that in part because of the man standing next to her…

  Detectives arrived at the hospital later, ready to question everyone in attendance. Lauren was patient, answering every question as best she could, though taking silent cues from Luka as to how much she could reveal, not that she really knew much. She did, however, know that despite the NYPD promising to launch an investigation into the shooting, more than likely it would be the Bratva that found the shooter before they even had a suspect.

  It seemed, after the detectives had come and gone, that was the last straw Ross could take, refusing to stay silent any longer. At first, Lauren easily ignored his grumblings, but when she caught sight of Mikhail just out of sight talking to a man in scrubs, she had another excuse to get away.

  Her plan was to excuse herself and see what they were talking about—she wouldn’t put it past Mikhail to keep her out of the conversation—but Ross wasn’t ready to finish disclosing his feelings on the entire matter.

  Except, Lauren was too wound up to care what he would say.

  “This is—”

  Lauren whirled around so fast, Ross nearly stumbled trying not to step on her heels. “Don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, just don’t.”

  She didn’t mean to raise her voice, she hadn’t even planned to continue on in the conversation, but it was like an uncontrollable anger had taken her over. Susan and Alex spared each other a glance then hurried over, wanting to prevent the situation from escalating.

  “Mish is in there somewhere and I have no idea how he is. So, whatever you’re about to say about his profession or about him, save it. I don’t need this on my wedding day, and especially when I don’t know whether my husband will live or die.”

  Ross was a proud man, and was unrelenting when it came to the set of principles he followed, but seeing the hurt and fear in Lauren’s eyes, he put aside what he felt for Mishca and gave her the support she wanted.

  “Once I know he’s going to recover, then you can yell at me.”

  Lauren would apologize to him later, but right then, she needed to know what the doctor was telling Mikhail. He had made his position on their tying the knot pretty clear at the rehearsal dinner, and judging from the tension whenever his name was brought up around Mishca, she didn’t doubt for a second that he would keep something vital from her.

  What did surprise her some was how negative he seemed to become in the recent months. While he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of her when they first met, she had thought he’d warmed up to her, but now she didn’t know what to think.

  The doctor was just turning to leave when Lauren called out to him. “Excuse me, are you Mishca Volkov’s doctor?”

  The confusion was clear on his face as he shot a look at Mikhail, then peered at her. “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss a patient with—”

  “I’m his wife.”

  Now surprise colored his expression, but only for a second. “I didn’t realize…well as I was explaining to Mr. Volkov, on the ride over here, Mishca went into cardiac arrest.”

  Mishca’s heart had stopped.

  That was the only thing she could think about as his expression went from neutral to sympathetic. Blood was rushing in her ears, her hands were growing sweaty. She didn’t think she could bear hearing what he said next, but his words pierced her subconscious despite her efforts to block it out, and they were almost enough to make her collapse.

  For on its wing was dark alloy,

  And as it flutter’d—fell

  An essence—powerful to destroy

  A soul that knew it well.

  -The Happiest Day, the Happiest Hour

  “The damage was so severe, we were afraid we had lost him, but we were able to get his heart beating again. He’ll be fine, but it will take a few months—or even longer—before he’s back to how he used to be. Due to his injuries, we did have to heavily medicate him, so he’ll be out for a while.”

  That was all Lauren needed to hear, even if his answer hadn’t been exactly what she’d hoped for. Mishca was alive, and for now, that was enough.

  “When will I be able to see him?”

  “He should be heading into recovery now. I’ll send one of the nurses when he’s ready.”

  Smiling gratefully, Lauren shook his hand. “Thank you, doctor.”

  As he walked away, she watched him until he rounded a corner, then turned her gaze on Mikhail. She had never thought a day would come when she would have to face off with the Russian mob boss again, but she wasn’t about to back down now.

  “Is there a reason you didn’t think to include me in this conversation?”

  “I do not answer to you, girl.”

  Lauren grappled for patience, knowing that she couldn’t talk to him like he was just a normal person. He was used to being shown respect at every turn, without anyone questioning him. While she planned to do the latter, she needed to keep her own anger under control.

  “This has nothing to do with the Bratva. The only thing I care about right now is Mishca.”

  “Your father—”

  Rolling her eyes, Lauren folded her arms across her chest, boldly staring up at him. “I think that has lost its effect. Pick another bad memory.”

  “Watch how you—”

  “No, watch how you speak to me. I’m not a child, and despite how bold you think you are, you won’t move against Mishca. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now. Yes, he’s your son and I’m sure you love him in your own way, but nothing you do will keep me out of his life.”

  She felt a presence at her back, and was almost afraid to see who it was, but when a tattooed hand rested on her shoulder, she relaxed.

  “Anything I can do, Boss?”

  The question was asked innocently enough, but with the way his body was angled, Lauren didn’t know whether Luka was talking to her or Mikhail, and it seemed that Mikhail didn’t miss it either.

  Mikhail responded in Russian, the words clipped and angry before he turned his back and left the same way he came.

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble, Luka,” Lauren said as they went back to the waiting room.

  “Mish is too busy being dead to hurt me at the moment, so I think I’m good.”

  Lauren punched him in the chest, but did smile, if only because she had just gotten the good news from Mishca’s doctor. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call him Mish.”

  Luka stopped in the middle of the floor, his frown becoming more apparent as he spun on his heel and walked away, never saying another word. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned his slip?

  Lauren updated everyone on what the doctor had said, leaving out her conversation with Mikhail—there was no reason for them to know that. As the hours passed, everyone began leaving one by one. It was well beyond visiting hours, and Lauren was more than ready to beg the nurses to let her stay just a little while longer, but whatever Luka had done—considering one of them was blushing red and was wearing a huge grin—she was never even approached.

  In fact, at about two in the morning, a nurse came to Lauren with a chart in her hands, ready to take her to Mishca’s room.

  Fear kept ahold of her heart as she was led to a private room. She didn’t know what to expect, especially when she didn’t know the kind of damage Mishca had taken because of it. She knew bullet wounds were tricky, and while it might not have appeared bad, the inside of the body could have sustained far more damage than what was visible.

  Outside the door, the
nurse gave her a kind smile, briefly touching her shoulder. “I’ll give you a minute. Just press the button if you need anything.”

  Lauren stood alone, her heart hammering as she tried to mentally prepare herself for what she might see once she walked in. She was imagining him with a tube down his throat, breathing for him, but when she finally got the courage to walk in, the reality was far different.

  He was just so…still.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she walked around his bedside, dropping down into the empty chair. If she hadn’t been there herself, she wouldn’t have realized what had happened to him. If anything, he just looked tired, with bags beneath his eyes, and his pallor paler than usual.

  But besides this, he was as she remembered.

  Her hand trembled as she reached for his, ghosting her fingertips over his knuckles before sliding her hand beneath his to hold. She was so used to him reacting when she did that this tears formed in her eyes. The only thing that kept her from breaking down entirely was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  He didn’t move in any other way, but this, this was enough.

  Four hours.

  That was how long it took for Lauren to gather the courage to call Luka, asking him to meet her in Mishca’s room. The hospital was relatively quiet, just the occasional nurse doing their rounds. She had always heard that fear made people do crazy things, and in that moment, Lauren agreed completely.

  Vlad had been her first choice, but Lauren knew that what she would ask of him would be too much, and he would more than likely try to talk her out of it, but she needed this done.

  She didn’t want to live in fear.

  Luka stepped into the doorway, a bag of grapes in his hand. “What can I do for you?”

  She knew what she was about to ask would not go over well with him, especially with the person it was dealing with.

  “I need you to find Klaus.”Just as she had thought, he didn’t look happy about the idea, but she needed him to understand her reason. “Mishca said that Klaus was one of the best—if not the best—snipers in the world. So either he was the one that shot him, or he knows who did. Either way, we need to bring him in.”

 

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