“Structurally, her brain is normal. Technically, the surgery is successful. No new bleeds and no swelling that is a concern.”
“Then why—” I demanded, gripping her hand tightly as if afraid she would slip away. She was still motionless with a machine breathing for her. Her thick lashes were twin shadows across her face. “—isn’t she waking up?”
The doctor’s poker face cracked and softened to show sympathy to the husband who was the reason for his wife’s unconscious state. “Your wife’s body is doing a lot of healing. Not only from the brain trauma but also from the overall inflammation and broken wrist. It’ll be up to Lucy to decide when to wake up on her own.”
Up to her?My jaw ached from all the clenching. This was the best neurosurgical hospital in the country, with all the advanced technology available. Money wasn’t a problem. I loathed anything out of my hands. Anything I couldn’t control.
“Maybe I need a second opinion,” I said tersely.
The doctor gave a brief nod. “You’re welcome to do that. I would expect nothing less than for you to exhaust all options for someone you love. I can have a colleague look at the scans.” He paused. “But they are going to tell you the same. We can also send them to another specialist of your choosing. It’s entirely up to you.” He glanced briefly at Lucy. “There’s nothing else we can do for her except keep her stable and allow her body to heal.”
The doctor let that sink in before he added, “She’d also been breathing on her own when they brought her in, but we put her on a respirator to allow the body to concentrate on recovery. We’ve been backing off of the respirator, and we could remove it tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help staring at my comatose wife, barely comprehending the rest of Doctor Ripley’s statements because I was stuck on his words… “for someone you love.”
“If you don’t have any more questions.”
I shook my head. What else could I ask? I wanted my wife awake, and he was telling me there was nothing else he could do.
The soft click of the door indicated he’d left, and I allowed myself to surrender to the mountain of emotions I’d been keeping locked inside.
Was this what love was? No, what I was feeling for Lucy couldn’t be summed up in a single word. She was my universe.
“Open your eyes, Luchik.” She was indeed the little ray of sunlight that melted my frozen soul. She threw a prism of color into the wintry wasteland and apathy that was my heart. I didn’t see black and white. I saw Van Gogh’s magical painting. I saw confetti of vibrant colors. With her, I experienced everything. I refused…refused to go back. I wouldn’t.
“You hear me? It’s your move, baby. Wake up.” I sank into the chair where I spent my days and nights at her bedside and leaned forward, clutching her uninjured hand and having it caress my bristled jaw. “You’re the color in my life. Without you, it’s all an icy cold, miserable, white desolate existence.”
Is this payback, wife? To show I can no longer control you or reach you, and you are going to return to me on your own terms?
The silence stretched, punctuated by the breathing apparatus and the machine that assured me Lucy’s vitals were stable.
“If you don’t wake up, Sorcha will never smile again. She might even poison my food because it’s all my fault. Sato might even conspire with Sorcha and murder me. Is that what you want? They certainly won’t want to be around an unfeeling asshole again. Because that is who I’m going to become,” I threatened her.
What? Think I wouldn’t manipulate my comatose wife? “Yes, I’m blackmailing you again. You know by now I would do anything so you won’t leave me.” I expressed a shuddering exhale. “Just…please, please, baby…wake up.”
Kirill Zahkarov was begging.
And praying.
I prayed to a god whom I’d never sought since the day I was banished into Russia’s brutal winter. When I lifted my head, wetness drenched the back of Lucy’s hand. I touched my face.
Monsters do cry.
Gunfire echoed around us.
I glared at Kolya. “What the fuck are we doing hiding behind these crates?” We should go in and annihilate every single one of them.
“You’re not bulletproof.”
“Wanna bet?” I growled at him. We were wasting time. I was antsy to get back to Lucy. What if she woke up and I wasn’t there? It’d been a week since the attack.
The thugs who drove the garbage trucks were outcasts of Boston’s Irish mob. Their boss gave up their location after a lucrative incentive. I was an expert in incentives. Peter was blowing up my phone after Moretti and I closed the ports. With New York and Chicago turning his shipments away, he’d become desperate. We weren’t opening anything until he told us what he knew. He knew Lucy had shot Viktor. He knew I had sent those troopers to compromise his brother, Viktor. My missing tech guy was found dead with signs of torture, and Peter more or less admitted to doing it. So that meant he sent someone here tocarry it out for him. Why wasn’t he declaring an all-out war like I was expecting him to?
So, I made the first move and shut down the New York ports I controlled. Moretti followed suit.
I wasn’t playing politics or this fucking waiting game.
I had no patience for it.
