“You’re bleeding—Konstantin!”
When I turn around, Audrey is trying to stand. I go to her quickly, holding her up and fumbling for my phone with my other hand. Audrey presses her palm to the searing spot just above my hip, the muscle feeling rent and swollen, throbbing. Her hand comes away dark with blood.
“Konstantin—”
“It’s okay. I’m calling for help.”
Olena picks up and doesn’t say anything when I tell her she needs to send men, the Redline, and Ward.
“Wait,” I catch myself, looking down at Audrey. “Not Ward. I’m taking Audrey to the hospital. Meet us there.”
Audrey tries to take a step and stumbles, still in my arms. I put a hand to her throat, thumb pressed to her windpipe and feel her pulse rocketing.
My voice is gravel when I speak.
"You're safe. I've got you."
Her hand moves to her stomach.
"Is the baby--?"
She nods, faintly. "I think so."
Chapter 25
Audrey
Isink deeper into the stiff VIP hospital mattress, hands resting on my belly, the paper band still around my wrist whispering every time I shift. It's a ridiculous room—high ceilings, filtered light, a built-in espresso machine in the corner, and too many flower arrangements already crowding the table. One bouquet is made entirely of imported peonies, nowhere near possible this time of year. Another has long, drooping calla lilies, probably flown in from some exotic place.
Nana used to say that lilies were for funerals. The memory makes my body clench in anticipation.
It’s all absurd.
I’m still shaking.
Everything inside me feels broken and raw. Just hours ago, if I’d made a different decision… if I’d insisted that the landlord forward any packages or double checked my order history. Things might’ve turned out differently.
Out in the hallway,Konstantin is getting sewn back together while giving orders like it’s just another Tuesday. I can hear his voice—low, firm, unrelenting—as he speaks toOlena.Seeing her flash by the window earlier like an angel of death, I no longer felt jealousy.
Now I felt shame.
Guilt.
When her eyes flickered in my direction, I knew she saw me as a threat and a weak spot. Someone who could get—almostdidget—Konstantin killed.
They’re speaking in Russian. I can’t understand the words, but I know the tone. It’s the sound of war being declared.
It makes my stomach turn.
My hands press down lightly on the swell of my belly. I’ve been cleared. The doctor said everything looks good, only a little nick that they put bacitracin on from when Sal held the knife to my belly.
The baby is fine. I’m fine. No signs of placental abruption, no internal bleeding, no fractures.
I’m fine.
It doesn’t feel like it, though. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I breathe out through my mouth. The nurse in the room glances in my direction with a sweet smile. How much does she know? To her, am I just a rich mother-to-be who’s had a scare?
Or does she understand who the man out in the hallway is?
