Chapter 186
~LAYLA~
Tye burst through the stairwell doors with his gun drawn, followed by three other security officers in tactical formation.
“Medic!” he roared, sliding across the wet floor to where we knelt.
He holstered his weapon quickly and dropped down beside Axel, immediately checking his pulse at his neck. “Ambulance is three minutes out! Clear the elevators! Move people, now p>
“He’s losing consciousness,” Helena cried as she pressed her blood-soaked cardigan against Axel’s shoulder. “Tye, his eyes! Look at his eyes p>
Axel’s grip on my hand went slack. His eyes rolled back, showing whites.
“No, no, no,” I whispered, squeezing his hand harder. “Axel, stay with me. Please stay with me p>
“Stay with me, Axe,” Tye commanded, applying pressure to several points on Axel’s back simultaneously. “Don’t you fade out on me. Don’t you dare p>
“Is he breathing?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Tye, is he breathing p>
“He’s breathing. Pulse is weak but steady. He’s in shock.” Tye’s hands moved, checking wounds, applying pressure. “Where the hell is that ambulance p>
The next five minutes were a blur of shouting voices and wailing sirens.
The paramedics arrived with a stretcher, moving expertly. They immediately assessed Axel, calling out medical terms I didn’t understand.
“Multiple penetrating wounds to the dorsal region. Possible spinal involvement. BP dropping. We need to move now p>
They cut away the rest of Axel’s shirt with those small stainless scissors, exposing the full carnage on his back.
I had to look away, nausea rolling through my gut like a wave. His back was shredded… blood, torn flesh, embedded metal. How was he even alive?
“We’re moving!” the lead paramedic shouted to his team.
They loaded Axel onto the gurney and secured him with straps. I scrambled to my feet to follow.
“Ma’am, you need to be checked out too,” a second paramedic said, reaching for my arm. “You were in the blast zone. You could have internal injuries p>
“I’m going with him,” I snarled, jerking away from his touch. “Don’t touch me. I’m riding in the back of that ambulance p>
“Ma’am p>
Tye stepped between us and spoke in a voice that left no room for argument. “She goes. I’m driving behind you. Don’t waste time arguing p>
The paramedic looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded curtly instead.
I climbed into the back of the ambulance, immediately grabbing Axel’s cold, limp hand as they slammed the doors shut.
“Hang on, baby,” I whispered, bringing his hand to my lips. “Just hang on p>
The smell of antiseptic as we entered the hospital was suffocating.
I sat in the surgical waiting room, staring at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand travel round and round. My clothes were ruined, stained with soot and dried blood that had turned brown at the edges.
Nurses had tried multiple times to get me to clean up, and let them examine me. But I refused to leave the chair until I heard news about Axel.
Helena sat beside me in the same state. She’d come in Tye’s car, arriving minutes after the ambulance. She was still shaking, her hands clutching a paper cup of water she hadn’t taken a single sip from.
“He lost so much blood, ma,” she whispered, staring at nothing. “I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. It was everywhere p>
“He’ll be okay,” I said, though my voice sounded disconnected. “He has to be okay. He doesn’t have a choice p>
“What if he’s not? What if p>
“Don’t.” I cut her off immediately. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it p>
Tye paced the hallway like a caged tiger, wearing a path in the linoleum. He’d been on his phone constantly, barking orders, coordinating security, and dealing with police.
But every few minutes, his eyes would flick to the surgical ward doors, waiting.
Three hours. It had been three hours since they’d wheeled Axel away.
The double doors finally opened. A surgeon in blue scrubs walked out, pulling his mask down to hang around his neck. He looked exhausted, older than he probably was.
I shot to my feet so fast the chair scraped loudly. “How is he p>
Tye stopped pacing mid-step. Helena stood up, water cup forgotten.
“Mrs. O’Brien?” the surgeon confirmed.
“Yes. How is my husband? Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay p>
“He’s alive,” the surgeon said.
I let out a breath that was half-sob, my knees almost giving out. Helena slumped back in her chair, covering her face with both hands.
“Thank God,” I whispered. “Thank God p>
“But it’s serious,” the doctor continued in a grave voice. “The blast sent multiple pieces of shrapnel into his upper back. We removed fourteen pieces of metal, some quite deep. But the real concern is the impact trauma. The force caused a fracture to his L2 vertebra. Your husband has a cracked spine, Mrs O’Brien p>
My hand flew to my mouth, muffling a gasp. “A cracked spine? But he walked. He carried me out of the office. He was standing, and moving p>
The doctor shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Adrenaline is an extraordinarily powerful thing. In that moment, his body completely ignored the injury to protect you. But moving the way he did with that kind of spinal damage caused significant additional trauma. Essentially, he made it worse by staying mobile p>
“Will he I couldn’t finish the question. Couldn’t say the words out loud.
“Will he walk again?” the doctor finished gently. “It’s too early to tell for certain. The good news is that the spinal cord itself appears to be intact. We’re optimistic about eventual full recovery. But he’s currently in a medically induced coma to keep him completely immobile while the swelling around the spinal cord reduces. Any movement right now could cause permanent damage p>
“How long?” Tye asked from behind me.
“He won’t be waking up for at least forty-eight hours, possibly longer. After that, we’ll begin assessing nerve function and mobility. But I want to be clear… recovery will take months. Physical therapy, pain management, the works p>
“Can I see him?” I asked in a whisper.
“For a moment, yes. Then you need to let the staff examine you and get some rest. You were in the same blast. You could have injuries you’re not aware of yet p>
“I don’t care about me. Take me to my husband p>
As I turned to follow the doctor down the sterile hallway, Tye’s phone rang, making me pause.
He answered immediately, his eyes never leaving my face. “Yeah p>
His jaw tightened. “When did this happen Who called the session On what grounds p>
Tye’s expression darkened with each question, shifting from concerned to something dangerous and cold.
“Understood. I’ll tell her.” He hung up.
“What?” I asked, feeling a new kind of dread coiling in my stomach. “What now p>
“That was our legal team,” Tye replied. “News of the explosion hit the wire about an hour ago. It’s everywhere, news channels, social media, and financial networks. The O’Brien Group stock price is tanking hard. Down thirty per cent and dropping p>
“Okay, that’s expected given p>
“The Board of Directors just called an emergency session,” Tye interrupted. “They’re convening in two hours p>
“They can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Axel just came out of surgery. He’s in a coma. They can’t expect p>
“That’s exactly why they called it,” Tye said grimly. “They’re citing ’Incapacitation of the CEO due to medical emergency.’ They want to vote in an Interim CEO immediately to ’stabilise market confidence and ensure continuity of leadership.’ They’re essentially arguing that Axel is unfit to lead the company at the moment p>
The words hit me like another explosion. “They’re trying to remove him? While he’s lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life p>
“Corporate vultures don’t wait for convenient timing p>
“Who?” I demanded, my hands clenching into fists. “Who are they trying to put in his place p>
“William Scotfield p>