Anatoly saw the blade cut Svetlana's throat and he let out a growl of disapproval. He rushed the guy, only to find himself stabbed. For a few seconds, he was in shock, wondering what had happened. But then the pain rushed in and he grunted. He was about to retaliate when he saw Svetlana try to push the man away, only to get pushed herself. Then the man ran off, scared by the police sirens. And in his own right, the sirens scared him. After all, if such a thing happened back in Russia, it was usually not a good thing.
Shaking his head, he ignored his own wounds and went over to Svetlana and kneeled down next to her. "It's all right, they're gone now." He held his hand out to her, to help her up. "Are you hurt badly?" Because of course, his first concern was for her. He glanced her over, noting the bruises on her face and neck and the cut on her neck, and who knew if the guys had hurt her anywhere else before he'd gotten there. It was pretty obvious that here in this moment, in the scene that had just played itself out, he was human and not the robot with only chess on the brain. And when he looked at her, his eyes were soft and full of concern for her.