CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN.

Kneeling beside Vladimir, who was red from exhaustion, she pressed both of her hands over his wound. "You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Shock—she was going into shock. And then how could she help? Snap out of it, Natasha. You know who you are now!

In between grimaces of pain, Vladimir looked proud. "I never imagined that I will meet my daughter again. Since I did, I am dying a happy man. Thank you, Lorenzo. I am sorry Natasha that I didn't get to know you. You grew up elegantly. As beautiful as your mother."

"Don't talk, please don't talk." Blood skimmed past her fingers. Lifeblood. He can't lose anymore. "You have to save your strength!"

Lorenzo inspected the wound and saw that it was deep. There was no chance of survival and if they stayed there for longer, they would soon be in the situation as Vladimir.