Chapter 95 BLEEDING HEARTS
“There’s… no surgeon available right now to perform the operation.”
The words hung in the air.
Julian’s head snapped toward the nurse.
“What do you mean no doctor?” he barked, his voice sharp despite his obvious weakness.
The nurse flinched.
“Sir, the neurosurgeon on call is not in the hospital right now—”
“Then call him!” Julian snapped, stepping forward. “Drag him here if you have to!”
“Sir, we already—”
“Already what?” Julian cut her off, his voice rising. “Already standing here wasting time while he’s bleeding out?! My husband is in danger, if anything happens to him something will happen to all of you.”
“Julian—” Anton tried.
But Julian didn’t hear him. His eyes were locked on the doctors working on Eli.
“Do something!” he shouted. “You’re all just standing here!”
“We are preparing him—” the doctor started.
“Preparing?” Julian laughed harshly. “Preparing for what? To die?!”
“Julian, calm down,” Anton said again, stepping closer.
But Julian pushed forward again.
“You said the bullet is in his head!” Julian’s voice cracked slightly. “And you’re telling me there’s no one to take it out?!”
“Sir, please—”
“Don’t tell me to please!”
His chest rose and fell too fast now, his movements getting more restless and more unstable.
Blood continued to seep through his shirt, unnoticed or maybe just ignored.
“Julian,” Anton said more firmly this time, grabbing his arm. “You’re bleeding too much, please let me help you.”
“I don’t care!” Julian snapped, yanking his arm away. “Fix him first!”
“Julian, if you die from this you won't get to see Eli open his eyes.” Anton stepped closer to him, “please.”
“Sir—” the doctor tried again.
Julian took another step—
And then suddenly stopped. His body swayed, just slightly but Anton saw it.
“Julian—”
Julian blinked slowly. The room tilted, the noise blurred.
His hand pressed weakly against his chest.
Then… his knees gave out.
“Julian!”
Anton caught him just before he hit the ground.
Julian’s body went limp against him.
“Fuck…” Anton muttered, tightening his hold.
“Sir, move him!” a nurse called out.
More nurses rushed in with a stretcher.
Anton carefully lowered Julian onto it, still holding his shoulders for a second longer than necessary.
The nurses exchanged quick looks.
Their urgency shifted instantly.
“That’s Julian Thorne,” one of them whispered.
“Move him now,” another said. “We need to stabilize him immediately.”
They started pushing the stretcher away.
Anton followed closely.
“Make sure he’s fine,” he said sharply. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” a nurse replied quickly.
They wheeled Julian into another room in the emergency ward.
Doctors were already waiting.
“Chest wound—”
“Prepare chest tube—”
“Get suction ready—”
Anton stopped at the doorway, watching… then he forced himself to turn away.
Eli.
He rushed back.
The doctor was still there, overseeing preparations.
“You said you called someone,” Anton said immediately. “Where is he?”
“I’ve already paged the neurosurgeon,” the doctor replied. “He’s on his way.”
“On his way?” Anton repeated. “How long?”
“I don’t know yet, but we are preparing the OR. The moment he arrives, we proceed.”
Anton clenched his jaw. “Make sure he gets here fast.”
“We are doing everything we can.”
They started moving Eli’s stretcher.
“Take him to the OR!”
Anton followed closely as they rushed Eli down the corridor.
Machines, voices, footsteps… everything blurred together.
They reached the operating room doors.
“Stop here, sir,” a nurse said, blocking Anton.
“I’m going in,” Anton replied.
“You can’t.”
“I’m not asking.”
“Sir, you cannot enter the operating room. Please.”
Anton stared at her for a second, then exhaled slowly before stepping back.
“Fine,” he muttered.
The doors swung open, they pushed Eli inside… and just like that—
The doors closed.
Anton stood there, staring at the doors… minutes passed and he reminded still until,
“Sir?”
He turned.
A nurse stood beside him, holding two patient files.
“We need you to fill these.”
Anton blinked, then took them.
Name of patient:
Julian Thorne.
Eli Thorne.
His grip tightened slightly on the pen.
“Your relationship with the patients?” the nurse asked.
Anton paused, just for a second, then wrote.
Family.
He filled the rest quickly.
Details.
Basic information.
Signatures.
His handwriting wasn’t as neat as usual, but it was clear enough.
He handed the files back.
The nurse glanced through them quickly.
“Thank you, sir.”
Then her eyes dropped to his arm. Her expression changed.
“Sir… you’re injured too.”
Anton frowned slightly, looking down.
Only then did he notice his sleeve was torn. The graze from the bullet. He had completely forgotten.
“It’s nothing,” he said immediately. “Take care of them first.”
“But sir—”
“I said it’s nothing,” Anton repeated, his voice firm.
The nurse hesitated, then nodded.
“Alright.”
Just then, fast footsteps approached. A doctor rushed down the corridor.
“Where is the patient?” She asked.
The nurse pointed.
“That’s the neurosurgeon,” she said to Anton.
Anton turned immediately and followed.
But as the doctor entered the OR, a nurse stopped Anton again.
“You can’t go in.”
Anton stopped just short of the door.
His jaw clenched.
He watched as the doctor disappeared inside.
Then the doors closed again, and he was left outside.
Waiting… pacing back and forth. Over and over.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Time stretched.
His phone rang a few times. He ignored it. Nothing else mattered.
After a while, he dragged a hand down his face and turned.
Julian.
He needed to check on Julian.
Anton walked back toward the emergency ward.
He slowed as he reached the room… and then stopped at the doorway.
Julian was on the bed. Unconscious.
Doctors working around him.
They had cut open his shirt.
Blood everywhere.
A machine beside him, beeping steadily.
“Chest tube ready—”
“Insert—”
Anton watched as they worked precise and focused.
They made an incision and inserted the tube into Julian’s chest.
Anton’s stomach tightened as dark red fluid started draining through the tube into a container. Slow at first, then more.
Anton swallowed hard. He felt it like the pain was his.
Like every drop pulling something from his own chest.
He leaned slightly against the wall, eyes still fixed on Julian.
“Pressure is stabilizing—”
“Keep monitoring—”
They kept working, adjusting, cleaning, and bandaging… Anton didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he just watched.
One hour passed… then another. Still, he stood there. Silently watching Julian.
Finally…he stepped back, slowly. His legs felt heavier now, his chest tighter. He turned and walked out of the room, back into the hallway. Back toward the OR.
“Excuse me,” he said, stopping a nurse. “The patient in surgery— Eli Thorne. What’s his condition?”
The nurse gave a polite but practiced smile. “He’s still undergoing surgery, sir.”
“How is he?” Anton pressed.
“We are doing everything we can.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Anton said, his voice lower now. “How is he?”
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have updates yet.”
Anton exhaled slowly, stepping back.
He waited. Ten minutes… Twenty… Thirty.
He asked again and got the same answer. Still in surgery. No update.
Anton ran a hand through his hair. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless.
No plan, no control, nothing to do. Just wait and hope everything turns out good.
He leaned back against the wall, eyes fixed on the closed OR doors.