Page 133 of Captive Prize

And now, Zoya’s death was going to finish the job and drag me down to hell.

But now I truly understood what he felt, and why he felt he needed to do what he did.

The truth of it all weighed down on my chest, stealing my breath. My soul.

There wasn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do to ensure that my wife walked out of this hospital whole.

But there was nothing I could do.

It was all out of my hands.

My sweaty, shaking hands.

I paced the hallway again, nurses practically running to get out of my way. One look at my face, and they all scattered.

Security was called twice.

But none of them had the balls to get near me… or my cousins, who surrounded me like a defiant, loyal wall of support.

Another lap down the sterile corridor and my skin was buzzing, itching like it was a size too small.

The hallway was too narrow, and it got smaller with every single lap.

There was too much energy in my body, too much anxiety, andoh my God, what was happening with my wife.

A scream shattered the silence in the hallway and stopped the spinning terror in my head cold.

Zoya’s scream.

High-pitched, loud, and desperate.

My breath locked in my throat. My entire body went completely rigid.

I wasn’t supposed to go in there.

The doctors had kicked me out, saying I was in the way and putting her life at risk.

If she wasn’t okay, somebody’s life was definitely going to be at risk—but it wouldn’t just be mine.

When she screamed again, I broke.

I slammed through the doors, ignoring the shouts of the doctors and the orderlies who tried to stop me.

They might have succeeded if their gloved hands weren’t covered in my wife’s blood.

I shoved them aside.

My mind was completely blank except for one thought.

Zoya.

Protect Zoya.

Save Zoya.

Save the love of my life.

I shoved more and more people out of the way—throwing a few of them—until I saw her.

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