I glance back, and Drago is still in the doorway.
Frozen. Like he’s afraid that if he steps closer, the moment will shatter.
His jaw is clenched so tight it could crack teeth. His eyes are red-rimmed, shining… he looks like he might actually fall apart.
Lev’s gaze shifts to him. And it changes. Like something in him recognizes his boy instantly.
Drago finally moves.
One step. Then another.
He stops at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on Lev like he’s making sure he’s real. His voice comes out low, wrecked. “You’re awake,” he says simply.
Lev stares at him for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth twitches.
Barely. But it’s there.
“Boy,” Lev rasps, voice battered but unmistakably him, “you got my daughter pregnant?”
I freeze.
Then a laugh bursts out of me so hard it turns into a sob, and the sound is ridiculous in this sterile room full of machines and trauma and miracles.
Drago’s face cracks.
Shock first… then relief hits him like a train. A broken, breathless laugh drags out of his chest, and his eyes glass over so fast it guts me.
“Yes,” he admits hoarsely. “I did.”
Lev’s eyes narrow like he’s trying to glare, but he’s too weak and too alive for it to land properly. “Fucking hell,” Lev mutters, almost offended by the concept and proud at the same time.
Drago steps closer. “You don’t get to scare me like that again,” he says. “Do you hear me?”
Lev blinks slowly.
Drago’s jaw trembles, and I swear to God he’s one breath away from crying. “You don’t get to bleed out on my floor,” Drago continues, “and leave me without saying a real goodbye.”
Lev coughs, wincing, and I tense instantly, but his hand stays locked in mine.
He’s here. He’s still here.
“Still alive,” Lev rasps, like it’s the only apology he knows how to give.
Drago lets out a shaky breath that sounds like it hurts. “Yeah, you’re too stubborn to die.”
Lev’s gaze holds his, the jokes fading into something raw underneath. “You kept her safe,” Dad says, voice hoarse.
Drago nods once, eyes shining. “I tried.”
Lev’s brows pinch, like he’s insulted by the word. “Not tried,” he corrects. “Did. You did me proud, boy.”
Drago swallows hard. His eyes flick to me for half a second, and there’s so much in that look it nearly drops me to my knees. Then he looks back at Dad, voice barely above a whisper. “I told you, I love her,” he says.
No performance. No ego. Just the truth.
Dad stares at him for a long moment. Then he exhales. “Good,” Dad murmurs. “Because she deserves love.”
My throat closes.
