RUSLAN
The drive to the hospital is a blur of traffic and frantic phone calls. I bark orders on the phone without ever letting go of Emma. She doesn’t so much as stir through any of it. The gash I found on her forehead keeps weeping blood.
“They’re checking security footage now,” Kirill informs me when I call him.
“Comb through every inch of the club. I want the motherfucker who did this so I can kill him with my bare hands.”
The paramedic gives me a startled look but I don’t give a s**t what she thinks. The only thing I’m concerned about right now is Emma. I take comfort in the fact that she’s still breathing. But every time I notice a new bruise on her skin, I want to f*****g tear the whole of New York City apart until I find the asshole responsible.
This kind of rage is new to me.
