Page 69 of Born in Sin (Phoenix #3)
Chapter Thirty-Five
VIRAT
What have you done to her? What have you done to my daughter?
The monitor beside the stretcher suddenly screamed, erratic, jagged lines jumping across the screen. Alarms blared.
“She’s in V-fib!” the medic shouted. “No pulse!”
Virat’s blood turned to ice.
Amay shoved him aside and dropped to his knees, hands locking over Celi’s sternum. “Starting compressions!” he barked, his arms pistoning in a relentless rhythm.
“Charging to 200 joules,” the paramedic called, yanking the defibrillator closer. “O2 sat crashing. BP gone.”
Virat slammed against the side of the ambulance, eyes glued to her face, ashen, slack, her lips tinged blue.
“Clear!” Amay shouted.
Thump. Her body jerked.
“Still in V-fib—charging again. Let’s go.”
Thump.
“Nothing. One more.”
Thump.
Then he heard it. A beep. Then another. A slow, uneven rhythm limped across the screen.
“We’ve got a pulse!” the paramedic yelled. “Sinus brady, unstable but perfusing!”
Virat’s knees buckled in sheer relief.
Amay was already at her side, adjusting her oxygen mask, eyes scanning her face for any flicker of consciousness. “Hang on, Celina. Just hang on.”
And the monitor beeped again, an irregular rhythm but it existed.
Amay glanced back at him, met Virat’s eyes and nodded tersely before going back to working on Celi.
The ambulance pulled into the hospital grounds and in seconds, they were swarmed.
There was frantic activity everywhere as Amay and the other medic relayed all the information to the medical team waiting for them.
“She’s post-arrest, V-fib, three shocks. GSW to left thorax, possible hemothorax. Needle decompressed enroute.”
“BP stabilizing. Pulse weak but present.”
The gurney shot forward, swallowed by the hospital team.
“Vir!” Amay snapped, as the stretcher started to move. “You need to get the consent form organised before anything else can be done for her.”
Virat stared at him blankly.
“Get up! Now!”
Virat looked at the stretcher disappearing from sight, people working frantically on Celi. Amay grabbed his face roughly and turned it, so he met Amay’s eyes.
“I am going to do everything I can to see that she survives this. But I need you to do everything you can to make it happen too. Are you listening to me, Vir?”
“Her heart stopped.” The words fell out of numb lips.
“Yes, it did. And then it beat again. Vir, please, I need you to get it together, my friend. Go get that fucking consent form signed and FIR filed or the regrets you’ve lived with for the last decade are going to be nothing compared to the tsunami coming your way.”
“I’ll get it done.” Virat pushed himself off his feet, pulling his phone out and making the calls required. Amay hurried towards the door, his bloodstained clothes and hands drawing looks from patients and hospital staff alike.
“Ams,” Virat called. “I need you in that operation theatre. I know it’s not your hospital, but I don’t trust anyone else with her. Please.”
“Consider it done,” Amay said grimly, running into the hospital.
And Virat called the one woman who despised him from the very soul of her being to tell her that her daughter was in hospital. Because of him. Again.
An hour later, he sat on the ground outside the operation theatre, his head against the wall.
The door at the far end of the corridor opened and Kabir walked in, an ashen faced Maria leaning against him for support.
She didn’t acknowledge Virat or the phone conversation they’d had earlier with regards to the consent form.
Curse me all you want but please let the hospital know that I am her fiancé so I can sign the consent form.
The words hung in the silence between them as she looked at him for a brief second before looking away. Kabir murmured something to her, and she nodded.
The doors opened again, and Ishaan walked through with Mayukhi and Dhrithi. They clustered around him, not bothering with the fact that he was sitting on the dirty hospital floor.
He kept his gaze trained on the doors of the operation theatre, but they didn’t open. Hours passed, endless hours but there was no news. After what felt like an eternity, a nurse stepped out, but she had no update other than to tell them that the surgery was still in progress.
The corridor doors opened again and Digvijay Singh walked in, his entourage following. Virat pushed painfully to his feet and went to meet the policeman.
“You got them all?” he asked quietly, even as his heart and mind stayed tuned to the door of the operation theatre.
“Yes. One of them, Majid Khan, has decided to make a full confession. He’s telling us every last detail, even as we speak.”
Virat managed a weak smile. “I guess this is your ticket to the absolute top, DIG Saab.”
“This is not a gift fucker,” Digvijay growled, though his bristling moustache hid a smile. “This is a fucking pain in the neck. You’ve dropped a real mess in my lap.”
“Well,” Virat said, quietly. “I guess it’s time for cleanup.” He turned, in preparation to walk back to his post outside the operation theatre. Digvijay stopped him with a meaty hand to his shoulder.
“Virat.” Diggy looked discomfited as he met his gaze. “This Majid gave us a full list of all the members of the Sons of Andhaka, past and present.”
Digvijay held out his phone. Virat glanced at the image that had been zoomed in. One name in bold, right at the top.
Raghuvansh Jha, Founding Father, First Andanatha.
The bottom should have dropped out of his world. But it didn’t. His world was inside that operating theatre fighting for her life. This, all of this, could wait.
“Keep me posted,” he told Digvijay briefly before turning away, heading back to the cluster of people waiting to hear if the love of his life would come back to him or not. As he neared, the door opened and Amay stepped out, dragging his surgical cap of his head.
“The surgery went well,” he said, speaking to Maria but keeping his eyes on Virat. “She’s stable.”
Virat’s back hit the wall next to him, and he slid to the ground, his head buried in his hands.
“Thank you, God,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
This time, the Gods had come.