Page 112 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

When Gleb and Makar arrived, I was still standing there.

The surgery lasted forever. One hour. Two hours. Every tick of the clock scraped my nerves.

I couldn't sit. Stood up. Walked to the door. Came back. My back throbbed from the earlier fall, the rope burns on my wrists stung. But I couldn't care about that now.

The third hour passed. The operating room doors finally opened.

"Who's the family?" The doctor pulled down his mask.

"Me." I practically ran over.

"We got the bullet out." The doctor said. "The wound was positioned safer than initially assessed. Didn't hit the heart, lungs, or major abdominal organs."

My legs gave out. Makar caught me from behind before I hit the floor.

"But he lost a lot of blood. His pressure was very low when he arrived." The doctor continued. "He'll need close monitoring for the next twenty-four hours. If there's no secondary bleeding or infection, he should gradually stabilize."

"Can I see him?"

"Once he's in the ICU, you can look through the glass. No bedside visits tonight."

"When will he wake up?"

"After the anesthesia wears off, depends on his condition. Maybe a few hours. Maybe longer."

I could only nod. When they wheeled Varlam out, he wore an oxygen mask.

I followed the gurney a few steps. No response. The staff moved fast. I only touched his fingertips. He was alive. That was enough.

The chairs outside the ICU were hard. Gleb had someone bring clean clothes. I changed out of the blood-soaked shirt. A nurse brought a wet towel for me to wipe the dried blood from my palms. I stared at my hands, suddenly remembering how Varlam looked when he fell.

Remembering him saying, Because it's you, I love you. My eyes burned again.

"Before he took the bullet for me, did he ever think he might die?" I didn't know who I was asking.

Gleb looked through the glass at the hospital bed.

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because he didn't have time."

Not the answer I wanted. But the truest one. Varlam didn't weigh it. Didn't calculate the baby, the family, the power, didn't calculate whether I was worth it. He just turned around. Used his body to shield me. I closed my eyes. My chest ached.

"Is he always like this?"

"No."

Gleb answered too fast. I looked at him. My throat felt blocked.

Through the glass, I saw Varlam lying quietly. Eyes closed, tubes and monitors stripping away his usual commanding presence.

A nurse sent Makar to treat the scrape on his arm. When he came back, he fell asleep in the corridor. Gleb never left, only stepped away occasionally for calls.

I sat outside the glass, counting the waves on the monitor over and over. Each spike told me through the wall that Varlam was still here.

Not until the next morning, after the doctor finished his examination, did he tell me Varlam was past the most critical stage.