Chapter 67

However, in one place, certain people did not have the opportunity to relax and give in to their passions.

Don, with a very serious face and a hand ready to draw a weapon, stood with his men in front of a much larger number of attackers.

He was on his daily rounds checking how the business was going. However, in one of the dark alleys, an unpleasant surprise awaited him.

A large group armed to the teeth was already waiting for them.

Seeing how well prepared they were, Don knew that this time there would be some casualties.

He could not forgive himself that by focusing on Vasili, he would stop being careful.

Clenching his jaw, he slowly looked at his men. They knew that it would not be easy, especially since there were not many places to hide from the bullets.

With slight nervousness, they looked at their boss, who gave them a slight nod. Without waiting for the enemy to move, they rushed to the sides to hide behind large garbage containers.

Quickly drawing their weapons, they began to fire. Fortunately for them, the other side did not react so quickly and, still standing in the middle of the path, they were an easy target.

After several dead bodies fell to the ground, the attackers came to their senses and began their attack, spreading out to the sides.

Don, knowing that they were not properly prepared for such a fight, somehow had to notify Zick to send them reinforcements.

Unfortunately, the fire was so strong that they were unable to move from their spot. His men began to take damage.

Changing another magazine, he got rid of more enemies, who were falling like flies. Each of his shots meant another body.

He was incredibly composed and focused despite the rage that spread inside him.

Suddenly, one of the bullets ricocheted off one of the containers Don was hiding behind and scratched him on the cheek.

Warm blood began to run down his face. "Fuck!" He clenched his jaw, changing the last magazine.

The situation did not look too good. Hopeless. His men were wounded, the bullets were running out, and there was no support.

Pulling the trigger once again, Don heard only a click. Right after that, he was shot in the left side. It was bad. Very bad.

The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance. It was no wonder that someone had reported it. After all, there was a full-blown shooting in a small, dark alley.

Unfortunately, the attackers still had time to finish what they had come for and end everyone's lives.

There would be no trace of them before the police arrived.

Seeing them approaching, all they could do was wait for death.

Don's wound was bleeding profusely. The man pressed it with his hand, still stubbornly clinging to life. Life that was about to end.

But despite the pain and anger, Don smiled to himself. Zick would definitely be pissed at him seeing how he had let himself be caught in such a primitive trap.

And he considered himself one of the best? After something like that? If Vasili saw him now, he would surely laugh out loud.

The smile slowly disappeared from his face. Some of his men were still trying to fight.

He had to admit, he had really good men. He wondered if they would still stick together when he was gone.

And if would Zick stay with them? What if they discovered she was a woman?

Don frowned. He didn't like this turn of events at all.

The sirens were howling louder and louder.

Suddenly, on both sides of the narrow street, at the same time, two large black SUVs stopped. The windows slid down and gunfire began from both sides.

The surprised attackers had no chance. They were taken down with precision one by one.

There was no time for silence. As the last body fell to the dirt road, the cars opened their doors and the masked men began to take the wounded from Don's gang into the cars.

Everything was quick and efficient. Don had no time to think. He had already wasted too much time asking who they were and where they were being taken.

If they were his men, he would have recognized them even in their masks. They seemed familiar, but they were not his people.

Two men approached Don and took him by the arms, carefully putting him in the car.

The driver turned to him and inserted an earplug into his ear. A familiar voice spoke through the receiver.

"Don? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Worried, Zick asked quickly.

"I'll survive" He replied weakly.

He slowly began to lose consciousness. He could still hear her voice but he was no longer able to say anything.

The SUVs, driving one after another, passed the approaching police cars with sirens blaring. As soon as they all passed, the men accelerated, hurrying to the base.

Rick was already waiting with a few helpers, knowing that things were bad.

A little irritated by the menacing Zick, he was pulling out all the necessary things.

The people in the SUVs gave him information about the injured and how badly they were hurt. It seemed that no one had a chance to sleep that night.

Worried Zick, toddling from place to place, waited in front of the estate for the cars. Time dragged on incredibly, and she knew how much it mattered to Don now.

He had to be treated quickly.

A few minutes later, she finally heard their arrival. People quickly carried the wounded inside, where Rick was waiting for them.

However, when Zick saw the bloodied, unconscious Don with a very pale face, she froze.

He looked like he was clinging to life with his last strength. Holding back the tears that wanted to come to her eyes, she quickly followed him into the ward.

"Boss first! Check him out quickly!" She shouted firmly when she saw Rick checking the others.

He looked at her menacingly but she wasn't going to let up. She had to know what was wrong with him.

Rolling his eyes he checked his condition and his expression quickly became serious. After a few minutes he wasn't so keen on arguing anymore.

Zick swallowed hard when she saw his look. 

"We have to find him a damn good surgeon. And we need to do it fast" His words froze her blood in her veins.

She shot out of the room like she had been burned and got to her computer. Her fingers flew like never before over the keyboard and her red eyes searched for a solution.

Finding what she was looking for she dialed the number and called. After a few rings a male voice answered. 

"Who's this and how did you get my number?"

"I don't have time to explain. Get to the hospital quickly. An injured man will be arriving soon and needs your help. He is a close friend of the Ruslanovs. Mr. Anton wouldn't want anything bad to happen to his friend, so please cooperate."

Zick had to think fast. The only thing she could do in this situation was to borrow the name, thinking that she wouldn't be punished too much for it.

Fortunately, the surgeon wasn't stupid and quickly agreed.

Zick called the men to go with her and after stabilizing Don's vital signs, they took him on a stretcher to one of the cars.

Rick stayed on the scene, taking care of the other wounded.

Meanwhile, Zick informed the hospital the surgeon was heading to, about the situation and told them to prepare for the operation.

The car sped between the cars, disregarding the traffic regulations. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the hospital where the right people were already waiting.

They took the unconscious Don inside to take care of him.

Concerned about his situation, Zick waved to her men to go back to help with the estate and she ran after her boss into the hospital.

She did everything she could to save him. Since the last big stir over the situation with Vasili, she had been overly sensitive about Don.

Worried every time he went out, she had put a tracker on him without his knowledge. When no one was looking, she surreptitiously checked his location.

Seeing today that he hadn't moved from one place where there was practically nothing, something struck her and she quickly checked all the cameras nearby.

Seeing a group of strangers entering the same alley as Don and his men, she didn't wait. She quickly gathered Anton's men, who were waiting on standby.

Zick gave them the location and waited with clenched fists to see what would happen. The driver gave her a report on what was happening and where they were.

She knew now that if it weren't for her oversensitivity, Don might not be among them anymore. Him and the others who were by his side today.

As she sat down in the chair in front of the operating room, she tried not to think.

Don was strong. He had recovered from serious injuries more than once. Why should it be any different now?