Her Accidental Mafia Husband

The Prince is awake 2

Anna was momentarily at a loss but quickly reacted by calling for Madame Thompson and moving to pat his back and help him breathe.

He had many scars and particularly knife wounds on his body with bandages wrapped from his broad shoulder blades to his chest. To avoid constricting his wounds, he wore a loose singlet.

When Anna touched him, he reacted instantly.

With surprising strength, he grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip and shoved her away hard, his eyes blazing with hostility even as he continued coughing violently.

The sudden movement ripped his wound open again and dark blood slowly seeped through the white bandages.

Anna gasped and stumbled backward from the force of his push and in panic, she called out louder towards the outside.

“Auntie, please hurry and ask Uncle Thompson to come and take a look!”

Madame Thompson responded from outside and hurriedly left to find her husband.

The man continued coughing violently, his originally pale face now flushed red. Finally, he doubled over the side of the bed and spat out a thick mouthful of dark, congested blood onto the floor.

Anna’s heart lurched at the sight. She quickly reached out to support his shoulder, afraid he might collapse completely. “How are you feeling?”

He violently shrugged her hand off, and she immediately hands off, shifting back a little.

She could already tell he didn't like being touched.

His forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his neck and chest were soaked through. He looked as if he had been pulled from the water, with a strong smell of blood emanating from him.

His disheveled hair fell messily across his forehead, presenting a wretched and tragic sight. "Better now, thank you," he managed.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back against the bedpost, gasping for breath.

He looked like a wild beast giving up its struggle in its dying moments.

His current condition certainly didn't seem "better" as he claimed.

Anna looked at the man, instinctively recalling the moment she had first found him. In his semi-unconscious state, he had forced himself to look at her like a dying wolf and she saw the pain, the bitterness in his eyes.

By the time Mr. Thompson finally rushed back from outside, the man had already passed out from exhaustion.

Anna sat on the doorstep, her face etched with worry. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she would do if the stranger died. Since she had been the one to save him, she felt responsible. She would have to see it through to the end by buying a coffin and giving him a proper burial.

However, with the few dollars left in her pocket, she knew a coffin was out of the question. Digging a simple grave would have to be the better choice.

After a long while, Mr. Thompson finally stepped out of the room, his expression grave and heavy. Without a word, he walked into the main hall and poured himself a cup of cold tea.

Assuming the worst, Anna stood up quickly. “Uncle Thompson, please don’t blame yourself. If he can’t be saved, it’s his fate. Once he passes, I’ll find a way to bury him.”

Mr. Thompson choked on his tea and coughed violently for several seconds before he could speak. “What nonsense are you saying, girl? He’s still very much alive!”

Anna blinked in surprise, then scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “He was coughing up so much blood earlier, and you came out looking so serious… I thought he wasn’t going to make it.”

Mr. Thompson set the cup down and explained, “That young man has an incredibly strong will to live. If he were meant to die, he would have died a long time ago. Coughing up the congested blood actually saved his life. Still, full recovery will depend on careful nursing and his own determination.”

The implication was that he might become an invalid since he must have taken a fall that damaged one of his legs.

As a former military medic, Mr. Thompson could tell the stranger was no ordinary person. The numerous scars and old knife wounds on his body spoke of a hard, violent life, far too much for someone so young.

It left him deeply puzzled.

He asked Anna, “Do you know where he's from? Does he have any relatives?”

Anna recalled the man’s background and sat back down on the doorstep like someone who had just received bad news. “You were right earlier, Uncle. He said he was robbed and shot by a group of masked men. His entire family is gone. I’m afraid he has nowhere else to go.”

Mrs. Thompson, who had been listening quietly from the side, exchanged a worried glance with her husband. They both opened their mouths to speak but found no easy words.

Saving someone temporarily was one thing, but continuously caring for him long-term, especially if he became an invalid, was something else entirely. With such severe injuries, not only would medicine be expensive, but an extra bowl and utensils meant another mouth to feed.

After a moment of silence, Mr. Thompson looked at Anna. “What do you think we should do?”

Anna picked up a small stick and drew two idle circles in the dirt before answering softly, “I saved him, so I have to see it through. We can’t just turn him away now.”

Mrs. Thompson’s voice was full of concern. “But how will you manage, child? Your parents are gone, and Lily was born with weak health. She already needs medicine regularly. How can you take on another person who might not even be able to work?”

Anna also felt she had brought home a troublesome situation, but saw no other option. She said, “Let him recover from his injuries first. Once he’s stronger, we’ll see what plans he has for himself.”

Inside the guest room, the young man she saved had just regained consciousness after Mr. Thompson’s treatment. He lay still, quietly overhearing every word of the conversation through the thin walls.

His sharp green eyes shifted slowly toward the window. ‘Can a person really be this selfless?’ he wondered.

The sky was already darkening, but he could still clearly see the face of the young woman who saved him.

She wore a simple apricot-colored jacket, sitting on the doorstep. Her elbow rested on one knee, one hand supporting her pale cheek, the other holding a small stick, absentmindedly poking and prodding the ground.

Her delicate brows were slightly furrowed as if she were making a difficult decision.

The elderly couple just sighed.

His gaze lingered on the young woman’s face for a moment before he withdrew it, slowly closing his eyes and forcibly suppressing the urge to cough that rose in his throat.

‘It seems I’ve ended up in some remote little village,’ he thought. ‘Oddly enough… that might not be such a bad thing.’