Page 54 of A Bride for the Mafia King

Tolya

Tolya’s Penthouse

My shirt is soaked with blood, hers and his, as I enter the penthouse. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters except the fragile weight in my arms. Eva is barely conscious, head nestled against my shoulder, her breath shallow.

Nico is already there waiting, his jacket tossed over a chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Ready and waiting with the doctor on staff. He says nothing, just gives a sharp nod to the woman standing beside him.

The doctor’s assistant, slim, serious, full of quiet competence, rushes forward. Her gloved hands reach for Eva, but I don’t let go.

Not yet.

“Where are you set up?” I growl, moving past them.

“Master bedroom.” Nico says.

No one interferes as I carry her down the hallway. I hear the Doctor and his assistant pad lightly behind me.

I lay her down gently, brushing sweat-damp hair from her forehead. Her eyes flutter open, just for a second. Just long enough to find mine. There’s pain there. Exhaustion. But something else too, something fierce that refuses to break.

She’s still fighting.

I hear someone clear their throat behind me, gaining my attention.

The assistant again. “Sir. We need space to work.”

At first, I don’t move, objecting to being separated again so soon.

I just got her back.

“I’m not leaving her.”

She steps closer, voice calm but firm. “You brought us here to help her. Let us do that. Huh?”

The words make sense but still, I hesitate.

The doctor enters behind her, older, his face carved with wrinkles and experience. He doesn’t speak right away, beginning the assessment of Eva’s condition with a practiced eye. Then he turns to me, unblinking.

“You’re not a doctor, Tolya. You can’t help here.”

“I’m her husband,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And if you want her to recover, you’ll get out of my way and let me do my job.”

The fury in me rises like bile—but I swallow it. He’s right.

I glance back at Eva, taking in the bruises darkening her cheekbone, the swelling above her temple. She doesn’t need my rage right now. She needs care and room to recover.

Slowly, I back away.

“Let me know the second you’re done,” I say, voice low, deadly calm.

The doctor nods once, then moves in. My presence is forgotten as the two start to work on her small, fractured body.

I step into the hallway, the door shutting behind me with a soft click. I stand there, fists clenched, a fear that I’ve never known consuming my gut.

Nico appears beside me, leading me out to the living room and handing me a tumbler of whiskey without a word. I stand there for a long moment, jaw clenched, hands still aching.

The room feels too small, the walls too bright. I rake a hand through my hair, blood still drying along my wrist from earlier—Yaro’s blood. Mixed with some of my own where the skin had broken open from the repeated blows.