Page 114 of Gamble with Me

Malin did an exceptional job in holding Zyon down. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I would never believe how strong an injured, bleeding person could be when his body fought with more pain.

Zyon’s muscles were stiff like boulders when he pressed against Malin. He battled with him as if he was the reason behind his injuries.

Terrifying screams full of despair resonated through the room, shattering my heart into pieces. I felt helpless and completely useless. I couldn’t do anything; I just held him tightly and hoped it would end soon.

“I have it!” Dorian yelled victoriously, taking the bullet out. I exhaled in relief, unsure if it had been a few seconds or half an hour since he started. “Give me a minute, and we’re done.”

“It’s almost over,” I whispered into Zyon’s ear, listening to his heavy breathing. He was at the end of his strength. “Hold on, my love. Please, just hold on.”

“I love you, Valeria,” Zyon breathed, making the entire world and our current situation fall to oblivion. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s okay.” I stroked his shoulder and kissed his cheek, fighting with another wave of tears. “I know you did it to protect me.”

“I failed.” He gulped, hissing in pain when Dorian began sewing him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” I said against his lips, doing everything possible to keep his attention away from the pain. “There is nothing to apologize for. We are okay.”

“But, if I die—” His voice momentarily broke as Dorian relentlessly continued to fix his wounds, and I used the opportunity to cut him off.

“You won’t die. That’s not an option,” I stated resolutely, pecking the tip of his nose. “You kidnapped me and forced me to fall in love with you. Now, you’re stuck with me for eternity.”

He exhaled something that could be interpreted as a laugh but instantly groaned in discomfort.

“Easy, my love,” I muttered softly, unable to imagine how he felt. “It’ll only get better from here.”

“But if I die,” he started again, this time not giving me a chance to interrupt him, “you’ll take Zara and leave the country. You will never look back.”

“Zyon,” I breathed, my chin quivering.

“Promise me this, Valeria,” he pleaded weakly, clutching my hand. “You’ll leave.”

“I promise,” I sobbed, incapable of holding my tears any longer.

It sounded like a goodbye, but my heart wasn’t willing to accept it. It was too soon. We should grow old together, have kids and many grandchildren, argue about unimportant things, make love in unusual places, and enjoy life with its ups and downs. This couldn’t be the end of our story.

Zyon’s eyes closed, and I raised my head to look at Dorian. He stared at his brother’s abdomen, wiping his hands with a cloth.

“We need blood and antibiotics,” he said, turning to Malin, who was already cleaning the mess. “I’ll call my assistant. She’ll prepare everything. How quick can you be?”

“The quickest,” Malin replied, snatching his helmet from the old dusty shelf. He was gone in a blink of an eye.

Dorian arranged the supplies and returned to me. I watched Zyon’s chest rising and falling in an even rhythm, subconsciously counting his breaths. I was most likely heavily traumatized and definitely petrified.

Our surroundings were dirty, undoubtedly full of bacteria that could cause serious infections. And what if Dorian hadn’t repaired all the damage? What if Zyon was still bleeding internally?

“Are you okay?” Dorian asked gently, cleaning his hands with wet napkins.

“No,” I admitted quietly, refusing to look away from Zyon. “Could he still die?”

“Yes,” Dorian replied without hesitation, shrugging when I whipped my head toward him. “I made a mistake, Valeria. I should never have tried to get the bullet out.”

“W-what?” I stuttered, sure I heard him wrong. “What do you mean?”

Dorian inhaled deeply, looking at Zyon. His expression was severe, and his eyes swirled with concern. Dread washed over me when many alarming possibilities arose out of nowhere. I wasn’t prepared to face another crisis, and Zyon was too weak to survive more pain. We needed a break.

“Usually,” Dorian started, placing the water bottle on the metal counter, “there is absolutely no reason to remove a bullet unless it’s in the way of repairing the damage it caused or it carries something dangerous.”

He bit his lower lip, staring at something on the floor. I didn’t want to interrupt him and ask questions that swirled like a cyclone in my head, hoping he would answer them while explaining.