Beep. Beep. Beep.
The steady sound of Amara’s heartbeat was the only thing keeping me sane as the doctor started the surgery. My daughter would finally get her transplant.
And now the procedure was underway. My precious treasure would no longer be in pain but on her way to recovery. Finally,for the first time in her short life, she’d be able to run around free and happy.
I felt at peace as I watched Amara and Emory, each on their own surgical table, the old doctor working on the liver transplant that would keep my adoptive daughter—my protégé—alive.
Suddenly, there was a commotion as a man burst into the observation room. Tall. Imposing. Out of place in his three-piece suit.
My eyes locked on him, his muscled body wrapped in an expensive suit. His striking green eyes were hard to ignore, but what captured my attention was the tattoo on his left hand. A weird symbol in the mouth of a skull. I’d seen one like that before. On Kian Cortes and my late husband, among others.
The stranger cut through the silence.
“Liana Volkov.” He didn’t frame it as a question, looking at me like he knew me. But if he did, he’d be running. “We meet again.”
Shock vibrated through me, and I found myself frozen in place. To the world, I was dead. I could count the number of people who knew I was alive on one hand.
My gaze collided with a set of green eyes that reminded me of the Siberian wilderness in the dead of summer. The scar running along his right eye though… Yeah, that was a warning that screamed danger.
I was unable to tear my gaze away from him.
Not because I found him attractive, even though there was no argument there.
But because I had learned to recognize that ruthless expression that promised agonizing pain all too well. The dominance and power exploded from him, engulfing me in a storm cloud. It was the kind of darkness that could only come from men.
When his gaze traveled over me, I shuddered as the black hole in my mind opened, beckoning me to fall into it and let all my memories brush me until there was nothing left.
“What is going on here?” The doctor’s voice reminded me of his presence and spurred me into motion as the invader grabbed my forearm with long fingers. In turn, I twisted and bent them, but before I could break them, he shoved me against the wall, making me loosen my grip.
The sound of metal instruments falling had us looking to the source. The doctor stood, trembling, his wide-eyed gaze pinned on us.
“Keep going,” I barked the order at him, reaching under my dress and retrieving the switchblade I kept strapped to my inner thigh. Flicking it open, I took advantage of my attacker’s distraction and sliced at his forearm.
He barely reacted aside from a grunt and eyes that shot daggers at me.
Grabbing my fingers, he squeezed tight, and I instinctively clawed at him. He hissed, pushing his palm against my hand, and I felt the unmistakable tear of my index nail.
My eyes fell to where he gripped it and sure as fuck, my perfect manicure was not so perfect anymore.
“You broke my nail,” I hissed, glaring at him.
His eyebrow cocked. “Are you kidding?”
I yanked my hand out of his grip. “No, I’m not.” I waved my hand inches from his face. “Look.”
“Shouldn’t you be more worried about me trying to kill you?”
“As if you ever could,” I scoffed. “Besides, I can handle death. Broken and chipped nails, fuck no.”
Lifting my knee, I went for his most vulnerable spot, but it never met his groin. He caught it and tossed it to the side, before his large hand forcibly turned me around. My cheek metthe cold wall and a hand covered my mouth. I fought against the stranger’s iron grip, biting and bucking.
“Where are you trying to go, wildflower?” His voice and words sounded menacing pressed against my ear.Who does this guy think he is, calling me wildflower?
My eyes darted to the doctor, who struggled to keep his attention on the surgery with me thrashing about, and then a sharp sting poked the back of my neck.
The heaviness pulled my consciousness down, down, down… Until everything was dark.
NINE
