chapter 8
1059 Words
Alex POV
My heart wheels around.
My head slowly turns.
“What are you doing back there?” I breathe a small sigh of relief at the sight of her.
She can't speak, neither can she move.
A cloth was tied around her mouth, and both her hands are bound behind her back.
I just couldn't try to help her at first.
I drive the car at the fastest speed I can manage.
The mansion gate automatically opens for me.
I don’t know where I’m heading, but I need to get away from that house—at least for now.
The lady in the back tries to say something, but I’m not ready to hear it.
She groans louder and louder.
Her groaning makes it hard for me to think straight and concentrate on the road.
I slam the brakes, turning off the engine.
“What?” I turn to her.
She gestures to her mouth.
I move to the back seat.
I place my hands on the cloth at her mouth, pulling it off gently.
“Finally!” she exhales.
“What do you want to tell me?” I ask.
She looks at me, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Thanks for helping.” I nod.
“You're welcome,” I reply with a brief smile. “What do you want to tell me?”
“You need to help Sir Damian as soon as you can.I overheard those guys say something about giving him his own cup of tea.”
I feel more concerned than I should.
I leave her in the back seat and move back to the driver’s space.
I can’t get the words out of my head: They’re planning to kill him.
I start the engine.
“Where’s the hospital?” I ask, my face serious and stern.
“The town center.”
I hit the accelerator and move.
I just don’t understand myself anymore at this point—risking my own life for his safety.
The journey takes less than twenty minutes.
“My hands!” the maid calls out.
I quickly rush to untie her arms, and we run together into the hospital hallway.
I stop in one spot, scanning the whole area.
No sign of him anywhere.
Doctors and nurses all seem too busy.
I run to the receptionist's desk.
“Hey, I’m looking for someone.” The young lady behind the counter smiles at me.
“Name, please?”
“Damian Blackwood.”
She looks through the records, scrolling up and down.
“He was brought in earlier today,” the maid says.
The young lady smiles again. “I don’t think you can see him now—”
“Why?” I cut her off.
Something here just doesn’t feel right. The look on the receptionist's face sends chills and discomfort through me.
“He’s about to be operated on, to get the bullet out. He doesn’t need any disturbance.” She still holds that eerie smile.
I can’t think of what to say next—I’m just confused.
“But she’s his wife, and she requests to see him!” The maid’s firm tone supports me.
“This is a hospital. Your voice needs to be low.” The nurse crosses her arms tightly against her chest, her tone cold and indifferent.
“But I request to see him.”
“What if I decline that?” she whispers harshly.
“Then watch me walk through that door.”
I suck my teeth and walk off.
She yells for me to come back, but I ignore her.
I go up the stairs, peeking into each room in search of him.
After more than an hour, I still haven’t found him.
I stop near a door, wondering if I’m in the wrong hospital.
A groan of pain behind the door pulls me back to the present.
I push the door open—and see him in a pool of blood.
I drop to the floor and drag him closer.
From his eyes, I can see the pain—alive and raw.
I try to scream, but it would be useless.
It was their plan—to kill him and claim his property.
He groans, louder than before.
“Damian, stay with me!” I plead, my face turning pale.
He nods.
But he’s losing strength, fast.
I manage to lift him, even though he’s far too heavy for me.
“Hey, where are you going with him?” a security guard asks from the hallway.
I ignore him and keep moving.
“Ma’am!” the maid rushes to me, helping carry his nearly lifeless body.
I move as fast as I can, ignoring every voice calling out to stop me.
“He’s my husband, and he wasn’t even treated—just dumped in one of the empty rooms!”
I yell.
I get him in the car and drive off into the dark night.
I’m driving faster than I’ve ever done in my life.
“Where’s the closest hospital?” I ask.
“It’s a government hospital.”
“Does it matter?”
“Okay then, go left!”
I take the route she gives.
I glance at Damian—he already looks like a dead man. My mind races.
He’s an underworld boss, yet he couldn’t survive a bullet wound for hours?
“Help me get help!” I tell the maid.
She jumps out of the Jeep and runs into the hospital. Before I can blink twice, two nurses are already out.
I get down and help them get him onto the stretcher.
We rush into the hospital, all with different thoughts clouding our minds.
I feel deeply uncomfortable.
The last time I felt like this was when my father died.
I pace back and forth while he lies in the operating room.
“You must be Mrs. Damian,” a well-dressed woman in a suit approaches me.
She doesn’t look like a nurse or a doctor.
“Any insurance?”
“Yes.”
She hands me a document. I don’t even glance at it before signing.
She shakes my hand and walks away.
Less than an hour later, a nurse approaches me, her face clouded with sadness.
“What’s the report?” I ask before she even gets close.
“Bad news.”
- Writer
