Hannah's eyes are red-rimmed, her face pale against the hospital pillows, and there's something defiant in her expression. Something that looks almost like guilt mixed with anger.
"You heard me."
"Say it again." My voice sounds strange, distant, like it belongs to someone else.
She sits up straighter, wincing slightly from the movement. She meets my eyes with a directness that's pure Hannah—brave and stubborn and absolutely terrifying in this moment.
"I'm pregnant," she says, and there's a hint of bitterness in her tone. "It's yours. From that first night, I assume, since you're the only person I've been with in months. So congratulations, Dante. You're going to be a father again."
The sarcasm in her delivery should make me angry. Instead, I'm frozen, every muscle in my body locked in place while my mind tries to catch up with what she just told me.
Pregnant.
She's pregnant.
With my child.
"When—" I stop, start again. "How long have you known?"
"Does it matter?"
"How. Long."
She flinches at the steel in my voice. "Since before you brought me to your estate. Since that day outside the coffee shop when I saw you again."
Weeks. She's known for weeks and didn't tell me. She’s been walking around my house, sleeping in my bed, letting me touch her while keeping this secret locked away where I couldn't find it.
"Are you—" I can't finish the question. Can't force my throat to shape the words that might break me.
"Am I what?"
"Are you okay? Is the baby—" My eyes go to the bandage on her head, and horror floods through me. She fell down the stairs. She was bleeding. She could have?—
"We're fine." Her hand moves to her stomach, protective, maternal in a way that makes something crack open in my chest. "The doctor did an ultrasound. The baby's fine. Strong heartbeat, measuring right on schedule."
Relief hits me so hard I have to grab the door handle to stay upright. They're okay. Both of them are okay.
Then reality crashes in like a tidal wave.
She's pregnant.
I'm going to be a father again.
Hannah is carrying my child in a world where enemies use the people I love to destroy me.
I'm going to lose them both.
The thought is so clear, so absolute, that it steals the air from my lungs. This is Katya all over again. Another woman I care about, another innocent life, both of them targets because of who I am and what I do.
"Dante?" Hannah's voice sounds far away. "Are you?—"
I can't stay here. Can't stand in this room with her looking at me like that while my world implodes around me. I wrench open the door and stumble into the hallway, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps that don't seem to bring any oxygen.
Pregnant. She's pregnant. With my child.
"Boss?"
Alexei materializes beside me, his hand on my arm, steady and grounding. "Dante, what's wrong? Is Hannah?—"
