Chapter 9 - The Surrender
"Dante!" Amara screamed, trying to sit up despite the doctor's protests.
Dante coughed violently, pressing a hand to his bleeding side.
The remaining Volkov soldiers had retreated when police sirens began wailing in the distance.
The doctor rushed over, ripping Dante’s shirt open to examine the wound.
"It missed the lung, but he is losing too much blood," the doctor announced grimly.
Amara looked down at the man who had broken her heart.
He was dying on a dirty clinic floor just to give her a few more minutes of safety.
Dante reached out, his bloody fingers gently touching the side of her hospital bed.
"I was a fool, Amara," he whispered, his voice incredibly weak.
"I thought fear commanded respect."
"I thought I could make my own rules."
He closed his eyes, his breathing growing shallow.
"I never loved her."
"I only loved you."
"I just didn't know how to be a husband instead of a boss."
Amara felt tears streaming down her face, blurring her vision.
"You don't get to die to escape this conversation, Dante," she sobbed.
The doctor began working frantically to pack the wound and stop the bleeding.
Amara felt the agonizing contractions slowly begin to subside as the medication finally worked.
Her baby was safe for now, resting securely in her womb.
But the father of her child was fading rapidly.
Dante's hand went limp, falling away from the bed.
The heart monitor connected to his chest began to emit a long, continuous tone.
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The doctor yelled for a defibrillator.
Amara held her breath, praying for a miracle she wasn't sure he deserved.
