Page 180 of Betrayal and Vows

My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I see is Lena's face. She looks exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her clothes wrinkled like she's been sleeping in them. She's never looked more beautiful.

"Anton?" Her voice is barely a whisper, like she's afraid to believe it. "Are you really awake?"

I try to speak, but only a croak comes out. My throat feels like sandpaper.

"Water," I manage.

She practically lunges for the pitcher on the bedside table, her hands shaking as she pours water into a cup and guides the straw to my lips. The cool liquid is the best thing I've ever tasted.

"How long?" I rasp.

"Three weeks," she says, tears streaming down her face. "Three weeks, four deaths, and two surgeries. But you're here. You're really here."

Three weeks.

Shit.

My eyes drift down to her stomach, searching for any sign of change. She's wearing one of my old t-shirts.

When did she get that?

It hangs loose on her small frame. But now that I know what to look for, I think I can see the slightest curve.

"Is it real?" I whisper. "The baby. Did I dream it?"

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks as she takes my hand and places it on her stomach. "It's real. We're having a baby, Anton."

The wonder of it hits me all over again. Beneath my palm, beneath her skin, our child is growing. A piece of her and a piece of me, creating something entirely new. Something innocent and pure despite the violence that brought us together.

"Boy or girl?" I ask.

"Too early to tell. But Dmitri insists it's a boy. Says he can tell by how stubborn the baby is already." She laughs through her tears. "Just like his father, refusing to give up."

"Just like his mother," I correct. "Fighting tooth and nail for what matters."

She leans down and kisses me then, soft and careful like she's afraid I might break. I wish I had the strength to pull her closer, to deepen the kiss, to show her how grateful I am that she never gave up on me.

When she pulls back, her expression turns stern. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Do you hear me? No more dying. No more scaring me like that."

"I heard you," I tell her. "Every time. Even when I was gone, I heard you calling me back. I couldn't leave you. Couldn't leave our baby."

She dissolves into tears again. I hate that I'm too weak to comfort her. All I can do is squeeze her hand and let her cry until there's nothing left.

"I love you," I whisper. "Both of you."

"We love you too," she manages between sobs. "So much."

The door opens and Dmitri walks in, looking like he hasn't slept in days. He’s lost weight. And damn, he needs to shave. And a haircut.

When he sees me awake, his whole face transforms.

"Well, well," he says, his usual grin spreading across his features. "Look who decided to rejoin the land of the living. About fucking time."

"Good to see you too," I croak.

He approaches the bed, his eyes suspiciously bright. "You scared the shit out of us, brother. Don't do that again."

"So everyone keeps telling me."