1 Brain Dead
A long strings of armored vehicles were escorting a sleek black Mercedes-Benz through a silent highway and halted a few steps away in front of the hidden VIP entrance of the hospital reserved for the big shots who preferred to stay low-key and shadowed.
Fierce-looking men jump out of the armored vehicles win out wasting a second even before the vehicles completely stopped. The impact of their combat boots sends the dust cruising in the cold air of the night.
A dozen of them quickly vanish in the shadows of the night with rapid-fire guns hung to their shoulders with a dozen other weapon stepped to their bodies. Each step taken was full of intent which can only be deciphered as years of training in the deadly arts.
Another group of several men dashed towards the Mercedes and surrounded it in a circle as if they were trying to conceal someone.
The men scrutinized their surroundings akin to hawks and were ready to get their chests to be impaled with bullets if that meant protecting him.
A man rushed out of the darkness and raised his hand in a gesture. Another man by the car noted at him and raised his fist in the air before one of them opened the right door of the car swiftly and steps back but he didn't spare any glance to the trembling person with pepper salt hair that stepped out as his eyes fixed on the right door of the car.
The right door clicks open and a pair of shiny black dress shoes elegantly step on the pavement followed by long legs wrapped in black slacks. His pristine black custom-fitted suit was exempt from any creases. A few strands of his tar-black hair fell out of his perfectly made hair and curtained the blaze that threatened to obliterate anything that came before those sharp green eyes.
He was tall—very tall, but not bulky. Even beneath his clothing, one could tell his body was cut and lethal. Lean, but packed with hard muscles. His expensive custom made suit clinged to his body, showing off his broad shoulders, thick arms, and trimmed waist.
His expression was devoid of any mortal expression but if one dared to look closely, they would see a silent yet deadly storm raging within his pupils.
The pepper salt-haired man got the cue and began heading towards the entrance and the raven-haired man followed closely behind him in a threatening manner at a leisurely pace as if he had all the time in the world.
Just when they were out of the prying eyes and in the corridor of the VIP ward, the pepper salt-haired man abruptly stopped and timidly stepped aside as he gave a long polite bow. His aging knees trembled with the fear he had been trying so hard to cover. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple as he stayed in his position until the raven-haired man was far from him.
A burly man with cropped brown hair gave him a smug smile as he passed by him.
'Who knew the president of the Powerful Delaney could be such a sheep?'
The man snorted at the thought.
This cowardly president was the 'help' his boss called to work whenever he had business in the country who had blacklisted him by the audacious military force of the country.
They were all just a bunch of spineless mutts who failed to get this in their thick skulls that this man had the whole country in his pocket and he can never be hindered by these useless bums.
Oozing with pride, the man quickened his steps to follow his boss whose rapid stride seemed to be agitated and restless but his face had not a single line of worry as if he never showed any emotion.
His boss stepped inside the VIP lobby and he followed him inside. They were greeted by a team of doctors who looked as if they were ready to faint any movement.
'Poor things must have been waiting on stand by for a while.'
Seeing his boss, they all lined up and vowed in unison but the man just flicked his wrist, getting irritated by each passing movement.
The director of the Private hospital was a middle aged woman who steps aside and addresses him respectfully.
"Mr. Khitrov, allow me to lead the way."
The doctor rushes them further into the wars and into a room especially reserved for the most important guests. Before the woman could, the man pushed open the door and strode inside. His eyes at once fall onto the unconscious woman lying still on the bed with her head wrapped in thick bandage. Her pale skin lacked the healthy lustre and was littered with dark bruises.
His wife had been missing for a whole week by now and through a tedious search day and night was he finally able to locate her in another country. She had managed to run away from under his nose.
Seeing the look on his face, the nurses instinctively took a step back.
Sometimes all it took was to take a peek at men like him to realize how precious life was for he definitely looked like a man about to lose his cool and sniff the life out of this room.
"Is she alive?" unlike his dark demeanor, his voice came out flat and unconcerned. The woman were at a loss of words thinking if he really was upset seeing the woman in such condition.
"She's alive, Sir." the director hesitated, not sure how to break the news without facing his wrath. "b-but...but..."
"Quit fucking stammering and speak." the man said darkly.
"Is she handicapped?" he asked again and the doctor flinched.
"No S-sir. That's not it." she swallow. Any man would be brought to his knees hearing what she had to say. Despite feeling bitter form getting intimidated by a man much younger than her, she truly felt sorry for him at the movement but she straightens. It was her duty as a doctor so she drops the bomb.
"Mrs. Khitrov was pronounced brain dead earlier. I am so sorry for your loss."
The man's head jerks towards the woman on the bed and he realises that his wife was managing to hang on with the help of life support.
"What? Is...Is she..."
"Yes, Mr. Khitrov. Your wife is never going to wake up again. All most all of the bones in her brain were crushed by the accident. Even if she managed to survive through this, she would have had to suffer through terminal mental retardation." the doctor explained.
The man runs a cold hand over his face and closes his eyes almost tiredly before releasing a long, heavy sigh.
No one knew if the sigh was of anguish or relief for the man was an expert at hiding his every emotion.
The director fidgeted. Her head throbbed painfully when she remembered there was another bomb to drop. But she wondered why did Mr. Khitrov didn't ask about that?
"speak." the man's sharp gaze narrowed in warning.
"We are amazed and delighted to announce that your unborn child did survive-" she squeaked out. It was a very rare case and once in her whole career as a doctor. The accident was a disaster and for a child to survive through it was nothing less than a miracle by god.
Sneaking a glance at the woman on bed, she didn't know who to feel sorry for. The husband or the unborn child or the woman herself.
"Fuck!" he curses. For the first time a crack appeared over his frosty shield and his eyes dim with worry and shock.
"How is this possible…? I-we haven't been intimate for almost two months." He stated. His voice thick with suspicion.
The doctor went silent, confused. Then a thought occurs to her and her head whips in the direction of the woman in disbelief.
"…did Mr. Khitrov didn't know about your wife's pregnancy? Ah if that's the case, you should know that she's almost in her second trimester and has been pregnant for three months now...although the fetus is a little weak–"
"What do you mean? Is my child at risk?" the man's voice drops an octave sending the nurses flinching in their shoes.
"ah…N-No that's not– as I mentioned before, it is a very rare case for a fetus to survive even though the mother isn't conscious but there's a high chance that the child might grow into a healthy one with proper care and nursing...b-but I am not very sure about it since I have never come upon such a case in my lifetime," she swallows, "..there is a her gifted neurologist in the in country S and he has a sister who's gynecologist-"
"their names?" the man cuts her off and she stutters out their names feeling guilty for throwing them in the devil's den.
The man began to pace around the length of the room with a hand on his forehead and a heavy silence resumed in the room except the beeping of the machines.
A reminder of the beating heart. That the life was still there. A life that will never see the light of the day ever again.
"Adrian. "The man suddenly called.
"Yes boss!" the brown haired man straightened. His expression sombre by the turn of events.
"Fetch the best nurses and move my wife back to the estate. I want her out of the hospital. And those doctors...drag them there." he commanded as he fished out a cigarette and lit it up before placing it between his lips.
The doctor wanted to chide him but seeing his thunderous expression she stopped.
"Right away boss!"
Without a backward glance towards his almost dead wife, the man stormed out of the hospital room. Never in his life has he ever felt so torn up and helpless. Only the thought of his little one back home managed to keep a leash on his brewing anger and the destructive need to wreak havoc that night.
