Page 25 of The Pakhan’s Forced Bride (West Coast Bratva Pakhans #3)

The pain is staggering.

My entire body feels like it’s covered in needles that are spiking into me continuously. Every moment, every breath screams agony through me.

Hands beneath me, lifting me.

I blink, and bright light pierces into my eyes. I squeeze them shut again.

I’m unable to bear the pain. “Let me die,” I murmur, my words distorted and distant. It doesn’t even sound like my voice.

“Don’t you dare,” she replies instantly.

Belle? Is that really Belle? Am I dreaming?

A sense of urgency floods me. I have to open my eyes. I have to see if she’s really here. How long have I been waiting to look at her face again?

My chest heaves with effort, and my eyes flutter open again.

“Belle?” I groan.

She leans over me, her face blurred, but as beautiful as ever.

“Is it really—" I can’t say anything more. My stomach tightens around the bullet embedded inside me.

“Don’t talk. You’re in an ambulance. I’m right here with you, okay? You aren’t allowed to die, Ardalion,” she says calmly.

Tears roll down the sides of my face. It’s really her. All I wanted was to see her again, to hear her voice.

I won’t die. I don’t dare let go now that there is a chance for me to see her again.

I fight the heavy darkness that settles over me, I fight it to catch another glimpse of her beauty, but it’s too much, and I fall unconscious again.

Even in my dreams, I can sense her close to me.

I refuse to die.

Just one more chance with her.

One more chance is worth all of this pain and a hundred times more.

I open my eyes to hear people urgently shouting directions. I’m being wheeled somewhere on a bed.

“Get him inside.”

“Careful.”

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen.”

“Theater is prepped, get him straight there.”

“He needs a transfusion.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

There. The sound of an angel.

Her.

Her voice shines out above the rest. She’s still here.

I drift away again, no matter how hard I fight to stay and see her.

A soft touch brushes over my face. Her familiar warmth, that unmissable scent that curves a painful smile over my lips.

“Belle.” I groan, pain shooting through me.

“Don’t speak, Ardalion.”

“I—" It hurts. It hurts so badly.

She strokes my face and speaks in soothing, calm words.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You were shot in the stomach.

It went straight through, which is apparently lucky.

And it missed your organs. But it did a lot of damage to your muscle.

” She keeps talking, and I don’t even care what she’s saying; just hearing her voice is like listening to heaven.

I drift away again, the thick sleep of a man on painkillers.

When I wake up, I get the feeling I’m in a different place. Immediately, I panic. She’s probably gone.

“Hi,” her sweet, beautiful voice says to me. She stands up and walks to the side of the bed I’m lying in.

“You’re safe. They brought you here to heal with twenty-four-hour care.”

I turn my head towards her, but it hardly moves. My body isn’t obeying me. I just want to see her.

“Hey, stop that, you can’t move so much,” she scolds me. Her hands gently press against my chest. “I’m with you, Ardalion. All you have to do is focus on getting better, okay? Stay strong. You’re doing so well.”

She leans over me, her hair falling over her shoulder and brushing against my chest. It’s so soft. I smile. The smile hurts less than before.

“Hi,” I murmur.

She giggles.

I close my eyes as exhaustion pulls me away.

I don’t know how long it’s been. I can’t tell where I am when I open my eyes. The pain is marginally better. I blink into the darkness and groan when I try to adjust and shift a little in the bed.

Movement to my left.

She’s at my side again.

She’s still here. I can’t believe it. I keep expecting her presence to be a dream. This time, I don’t try to say her name; I just turn my hand so that my palm is facing upwards.

Even in the soft darkness, I can see her smile. She slips her fingers between mine. Warmth radiates from her hand into my body.

I close my eyes and disappear again.

***

It’s early hours of the morning when I wake up. I can see the glimmer of sunrise. Wherever I am, it’s quiet. People are still asleep.

My head feels clearer than it has in a long time. The first thing that greedily pushes into my thoughts is her—wanting to see her. But I think I’m alone.

You couldn’t expect her to stay with you, Ardalion.

It takes effort, but I push myself up in the bed, wanting to sit up and ease the aching muscles of my back.

How long have I been lying here?

It’s impossible to tell.

There is a drip in my arm, linked to a metal stand at the side of the bed.

I’m not in a hospital. This is someone’s home. I’m not close enough to the window to see where, though.

I hear a soft sigh, and my eyes dart around the room.

There. On the sofa near the window.

A figure wrapped in a blanket stirs and rolls over.

“Belle?” I whisper in disbelief. “Is that you?”

In a flash, she’s up, rushing towards me, her hair a mess, her clothes pulled to the side, a wild, disheveled look about her.

She stands next to my bed and takes my hand, reaching out to touch my cheek with the backs of her fingers.

“Ardalion, you’re awake,” she gasps, smiling, her eyes glittering in the dark light.

“And you’re still here.” It takes effort to speak.

I furrow my brow. My eyes trace over her.

She looks tired, a mess—and still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

Cautiously, I lift my arm, satisfied when the pain isn’t too bad. I touch her cheek, and she leans her face into my hand.

“You shouldn’t move so much yet,” she whispers. “The doctor will be angry if he sees you sitting up.”

“Everything hurts,” I groan weakly, already feeling tired after such a short time awake.

She giggles and takes my hand in hers. “It’ll take time to get your strength back.”

“Where am I?” I ask, realizing all I cared about was seeing her, and I don’t even know where we are.

“Benedikt’s mansion in Las Vegas. My brother had them bring you here after your surgery. He was worried about security at the hospital and that the enemy might take advantage of your weakened state.”

I close my eyes. “I can’t remember—"

“You took a bullet for him, Ardalion. The only reason my brother is alive is because you took that bullet for him.”

Well, that makes sense. He feels obliged to help me.

As soon as I’m healed, he’ll send me back to LA, away from her.

I don’t want to heal, then. I close my eyes, trying to hide the emotions welling in them.

Her touch against my jaw makes me open my eyes again, not wanting to miss a moment with her. “Are you hungry? I can sneak into the kitchen before anyone wakes up and make us something to eat.”

“Are you kidding? I’m starving.” I try to laugh, but the stabbing pain is so terrifying I choke on it.

“Oh,” she squeals, worried for me.

I never want to leave her side. I don’t even want her to go to the kitchen. It feels like I might never see her again afterwards. I’m not even hungry; I just want to do things with her. Anything. Everything.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, gently touching my hand before turning away.

While Belle is out of the room, I try hard to pull myself together, to reason, to be logical. But I can ’ t.

She is everything I want. She is all I want. The only reason I lived through being shot was because I heard her voice. I was ready to let go and move on. But she pulled me back. She is the only thing that matters.

But I hurt her, and I can’t ask her to be with me, not if it’s going to cause issues between her and her family.

I have to enjoy whatever time I have with her and just let things unfold as they are meant to.

When Belle comes back into the room, she carefully climbs onto the bed next to me.

My heart races at her being this close. She doesn’t sit like she used to, leaning against my chest, letting me hold her.

But she sits cross-legged, at my side, facing me, her thigh touching my leg, her smile turned towards me.

She sets a tray of snacks down between us.

“I didn’t know what you’d want.” She smiles the most beautiful smile.

I glance at the tray.

Donuts, chocolate, cold cuts, cheese, a small bowl of mac and cheese, and heart-shaped gummies. The odd but flavorful mix of options makes me chuckle as I carefully place my hand over my stomach to stop it from moving too much and hurting.

“Only you—would put—such a good—mix—together,” I say, though slow breaths.

“Don’t speak,” she says, her brows knitting with worry. “I’ll talk to you, and you can just enjoy your snacks. So, what can I tell you…"

She talks about the book she’s been reading.

She tells me about being back in Vegas and how she had a fight with her mom and told her she refused to go on any more horrible dates.

She seems proud of standing up for herself, but shy when my eyes drift to her hand and see she’s still wearing the ring.

I want to ask her, but it doesn’t feel right.

She hides her hand beneath her leg and talks about something else until my eyes drift, heavy with tiredness again.

Every day, Belle is at my side as my strength grows. I work with a physiotherapist who comes to see me twice a day, and I get stronger.

Instead of just listening, I talk, too. We talk about places we want to travel, food we want to try, movies we’ve seen—anything but the most important thing, that I love her. That I want to be with her forever.

The physio tells me I’m doing well enough to start moving around freely on my own. I tell him the pain is still too much, even though it isn’t. He understands and tells me it can take time, and I shouldn’t feel rushed. I should heal in my own time.

The truth is, I’m healed more than I need to be. I could easily go home and take care of myself—but then I lose her.

It’s been almost six weeks living in this room, cared for by the people Benedikt has sent to take care of me. I don’t care about any of them—I only want her. I can’t bear the thought of leaving her.

The second time the physiotherapist tells me I’m doing really well and can start getting back to my life, I can’t delay any longer.

Belle is sitting on the sofa by the window reading, and when she hears this news, she perks up, excited for me.

Her eyes are bright as she jumps up. “This is amazing,” she squeals, running to me to hug me. “I knew you’d be back to yourself soon.”

There is nothing I can do. My time with her is up.

The physiotherapist packs up and wishes me luck, then leaves.

My body is strong. My wounds are healed, inside and out.

I can move easily, I don’t need pain medication.

Belle is smiling up at me, pressed against my side, her arm wrapped around my waist. I reach down to brush hair out of her eyes.

“How about you make me one of your famous snack platters?”

“You’re hungry?” she says, her eyes widening. “I’ll put the best one together. You won’t even be able to guess the assortment I’ll put on this one.” She giggles and leaves the room.

As soon as she’s gone, I head out of the room too. I have to find Benedikt. He and I need to talk. I’ve exhausted my stay here, and it’s time for me to fight harder for her.

Benedikt is upstairs in his sunroom.

He’s reading a newspaper, sipping coffee when I walk in.

“Ardalion, you're looking strong,” he says casually.

“Can we speak?” I ask, getting straight to the point.

“Sit,” he says, folding the paper and setting it aside.

“You’ve been very generous with your help. I am endlessly grateful and in your debt with regards to that, but I need to ask you for something else,” I say, dropping all defenses, laying my ego bare.

Benedikt leans back, his brows raised, and his arms folded over his chest. He waits for me to continue.

“First, I need to tell you I kidnapped Belle. I came to Vegas with revenge on my mind, and I kidnapped her to get to you. I had no intention of hurting her, never in my life, but I did want to drive you crazy. The problem is that I fell in love with her. That’s why I never contacted you like I had intended to.

I couldn’t face the thought of letting her go.

She is everything to me, Benedikt. That girl has my entire heart.

I don’t know how I can possibly be without her. ”

Benedikt’s eyes are locked onto me.

I carry on, “You know I’m full of shit, Benedikt. My ego is sometimes too big for my own good.”

“Sometimes?” he mocks me.

I chuckle. “Most of the time. But please understand that Belle has changed me. When would I ever come to you like this, literally begging you to let me be with her? I will give you anything. You ask me for anything, and it’s yours, Benedikt.”

“Ardalion, it’s not that simple,” Benedikt sighs.

“It is. We make a deal. You tell me what you want, and in exchange, you let me be with her. It really is that simple,” I say, more determined than ever to make him understand how much she means to me.