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Anastasia Lenkov wants to live a normal life as a nurse after escaping her old, brutal life. But her past keeps catching up with her. She is on the run from the Russian mafia, because her father, the boss, will n...
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I glanced in shock at his wound, from which blood was slowly dripping onto the floor. "You're hurt." I stated the obvious.
He didn't answer, but only analyzed my face, which was still half covered by my hood. I sighed and slowly pulled the hood down, the raindrops slowly dripping down onto my hair.
The man who was still towering over me slouched forward and gripped his chest in pain as I slowly walked toward him.
I narrowed my eyes at him, "We have to get you to the hospital. Right now." I slightly touched his hand, which was lying over his wound. He flinched slightly at the touch and grunted.
He straightened up again and looked directly into my eyes, "No."
"No?" I looked at him confused, "The wound needs to be checked immediately." The huge pit pull that was standing right next to the man barked loudly.
"Shadow, sit." his deep voice echoed through the dark alley and the dog immediately sat down on the ground.
I gulped. I can't just let this man bleed to death here. I have to do something. I briefly looked up from my thoughts to look at the man, he was leaning against the wall and glancing to his right and left, as if looking for someone.
What the hell is he waiting for? Is he hiding from someone here? Is that why he can't go to the hospital, because they will find him there?
Is he a spy? No, I don't think they would send a half-dead man as a distraction. Stop worrying so much, Anastasia.
I groaned, "Come with me."
He just stared at me and I rolled my eyes, "Are you going to bleed to death here or are you going to let me help you?"
A smirk crept onto his lips, "Looks like I have no choice."
He could really be a little nicer. Maybe I should just let him bleed out here. Sounds like a good plan.
Jerk. I reached out and put my arm around his upper body so that I could support him.
He put his muscular arm around my shoulder and supported some of his body weight on me. He really tried not to lean on me too much, because otherwise he would surely crush me.
I walked slowly so that he started moving without causing the wound to become worse. More blood dripped onto the ground.
"Blyad." I cursed quietly to myself as I leaned the man against a trash can and took off my hoodie. [translation: fuck]
He grimaced, "What are you doing?"
I wordlessly pulled my hoodie over my head and pressed the clothing into his hand, which was pressing against his wound.
"You have to press this really hard against the wound so it works like a pressure bandage."
He nodded and did as he was told. A cold breeze blew against my shoulders, which were now only shielded from the cold by a shirt.
