My everything.
Chapter 21 - Gaby
The boat cut through dark water, and I couldn't stop shaking.
The medical team had checked me over—blood pressure, pupils, the cut on my throat that turned out to be shallow, the bruise on my cheek that would fade in a week. They'd pressed a fetal monitor to my stomach and found the baby's heartbeat, strong and steady, completely oblivious to the violence that had nearly ended us both.
"She's stable," the medic had told Vasily. "Minor injuries, shock, but no serious damage. The pregnancy appears unaffected."
Vasily had nodded once, his jaw tight, his hand never leaving my shoulder. He hadn't let go of me since he'd carried me out of that facility. Every time someone approached—medic, soldier, crew member—he'd tensed, positioning himself between me and the potential threat.
The monster who'd beaten a man to death with his bare hands, reduced to a guard dog who couldn't let me out of his sight.
I should have been frightened. Should have been horrified by what I'd witnessed—the violence, the blood, the brutal efficiency with which he'd torn through Pankratov's men to reach me. I'd seen him kill. Seen him destroy a human being with nothing but his fists and his rage.
Instead, I felt safe.
For the first time since those men had dragged me from my hiding place, I felt safe. Because he was here. Because he'd come for me, just like I'd known he would.
Someone draped a blanket around my shoulders. Vasily, his movements gentle despite the blood still drying on his hands. He sat beside me on the deck, close enough that our bodies touched from shoulder to hip, and stared out at the black water.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know." It was the truth. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion I couldn't name. "Tired. Scared. Grateful. All of it at once."
"We'll be in Athens within the hour. There's a hospital—"
"I don't need a hospital. The medic said I'm fine."
"You need to be checked properly. Both of you." His hand found my stomach, pressing flat against the small swell. "I need to know you're okay."
I covered his hand with mine. "We're okay. You got to us in time."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I almost didn't."
"But you did."
"If I'd been slower. If the plane had been farther out. If—"
"Vasily." I turned to face him, cupping his jaw with my hand. His skin was rough with stubble, smeared with blood that wasn't his. "You came. That's what matters. You came for us."
His eyes met mine, and I saw the fear he'd been hiding beneath the violence. The terror that had driven him across the Mediterranean, that had turned him into the monster I'd witnessed in that control room.
He'd been afraid of losing me. Afraid in a way I'd never seen him afraid of anything.
"I can't—" His voice cracked. He stopped, swallowed, tried again. "When the feeds went dark. When I couldn't reach you. I thought—"
"I know." I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his. "I know. But I'm here. We're here. You brought us home."
He pulled me into his arms, and I went willingly, burying my face in his chest. He smelled like smoke and sweat and blood, and underneath it all, something that was purely him. Something that meant safety, and warmth, and the complicated, terrifying thing growing between us.
I closed my eyes and let him hold me as the boat carried us toward shore.
***
The hospital in Athens was a blur of bright lights and clinical efficiency.
Doctors examined me, prodded me, ran tests I didn't fully understand. Vasily stood in the corner of every room, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who came too close. When a nurse suggested he wait outside during the ultrasound, the look he gave her could have curdled milk.
