CHAPTER 34
Matteo’s POV
“She’s not breathing right,” I muttered, panicking since she was already
unconscious as I pushed open the hospital doors. Amara‘ s limp, bloodied form was cradled against my chest, her head lolling against my shoulder, her pale skin was ice cold and my arms ached from carrying her, but I did not care.
The staff moved instantly when they saw us, one of the nurses letting out a gasp before scrambling to fetch a stretcher. Then I saw Paulson striding to reach us after I called him earlier that I would need his best doctors in his hospital to attend to Amara. He was a good friend, a trusted one, and I knew he held most of the top doctors in the country.
“Matteo, bring her here,” Paulson uttered firmly, motioning to an incoming team of doctors. “My people are ready.
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Trust me. We’ll take care of her.”
“She is barely breathing, Paulson,” I snapped, and I did not intend to be harsh, though it sounded as was. My chest felt like it was caving in, and for the first time in years, I could not suppress the fear clawing at my throat. “She’s losing blood. Help her.”
“They will,” Paulson assured me, and his calmness grated at my nerves although I also knew that panicking could not help in this situation. “You have my word, Matteo. Let them handle it.”
The doctors swarmed, and I reluctantly placed Amara on the stretcher, her broken body was limp and lifeless. Her face was bruised beyond recognition, and dried blood clung to her lips and temple. Seeing her like that in a brighter room, where I could see every shade of bruises, every cut that marred her skin, and every drop of blood that tainted her body… was worse than any bullet wound I had ever taken.
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“Fix her,” I growled at the nearest doctor. “If anything happens to her-”
“Matteo,” Paulson interrupted, gripping my shoulder tightly. “Let them work. She’s in good hands.”
I stood there, frozen, watching as they wheeled her away. My hands, covered in her blood, trembled at my sides. I clenched them into fists, calming my nerves, and swallowing the lump in my throat.
“You look like hell,” Paulson remarked quietly, guiding me toward another bed in the emergency room and a nurse and doctor came following us. “Sit down. You are no good to her if you fall apart.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, though it was a blatant lie. My mind was a storm, torn between rage and fear. I was far from fine, not for myself, or the wound on my shoulder, but for Amara. “How long will it take?” I asked impatiently.
“It depends,” Paulson admitted. “She‘ st
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badly hurt, but my team will stabilize her. I will personally oversee everything.” He paused and his gaze went to my wound on the shoulder. “And you need to get that fixed, you won’t want her to see you in a worse state.”
I sighed and allowed the doctor and nurse. to tend to my wound. I had gone through this a dozen times already in the past, I was already used to the pain of taking out the bullet from my flesh and stitching my skin, it felt like it was just a normal routine now. But Amara, what happened to her was something I was never used to, and I planned to never get used to. The pain I felt for Amara was different, I was scared to lose her, and it pained me to see her in such a state, fighting for her life.
When I was patched up, Paulson brought me to a private lounge where we waited for Amara to be stabilized before transferring
her to a private room.
The minutes felt like hours as I paced the
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lounge and the rhythmic ticking of the clock was mocking my impatience. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her, broken, bloodied, barely breathing. I should have found her sooner. I should have protected her.
My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up, hoping for news.
“Boss,” Jeoff s voice came through. “We ve got the prisoners secured. Some are already talking.”
“What did they say?”
