"Later," I say firmly. "Right now, we need to get you out of here."
But she isn't listening. Her hands have moved to her stomach, pressing against the slight swell there. "The baby. I need to know if the baby's okay. They didn't—they didn't hurt me there, but I need to know?—"
I place my hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. "We'll know soon. I promise. But we have to go."
She nods, but her legs give out when she tries to take a step. I catch her, scooping her into my arms despite the screaming protest from my hand. "I can walk," she protests weakly.
"I know you can." I start toward the stairs, Ilya's men forming up around us, weapons still raised, covering our exit. "But you don't have to."
We emerge from that basement into the factory floor, then out into the cool Boston night. The air is cold and clean, washing away the smell of blood and gunpowder. Svetlana buries her face against my neck, and I feel wetness there.
"I thought you wouldn't come in time," she whispers. "I thought—I couldn't let them?—"
"I know." My voice is rough, breaking on the words. "But I did come. I'll always come. Always."
The vehicles are waiting where we left them. Ilya opens the back door of the lead SUV, and I climb in carefully, still holding Svetlana. She curls against me, her hands fisting in my shirt.
Viktor is already in the front seat, a medical kit open on his lap. "How badly is she hurt?"
"I don't know," I admit. "She says she's okay, but?—"
"I'm okay," Svetlana says, but her voice is faint. "Just tired. So tired."
"There's a clinic ten minutes from here," Ilya says, sliding into the seat beside us. "Discreet. We’ve used them before. They'll check her and the baby."
The driver pulls out, the other vehicles falling in behind us. I hold Svetlana closer, one hand cradling her head, the other resting on her stomach.
"You're safe now," I murmur into her hair, saying it again and again like a prayer. "You're safe. I've got you. No one's ever taking you again. I promise. I swear to God, Svetlana, no one will ever hurt you again."
She doesn't respond, but I feel her hand move to cover mine where it rests on her belly. Her fingers lace through mine—through the fingers I still have—and hold on tight.
My right hand throbs. Blood still seeps through the bandage, dripping onto the leather seat.
I don't care.
She's alive. Our baby is alive. And everyone who tried to hurt them is dead.
28
SVETLANA
The clinic is sterile and quiet, clearly the type of place that doesn’t ask questions. I sit on the examination table while a doctor checks my vitals and listens to the baby's heartbeat. Kazimir stands against the wall, his injured hand cradled against his chest, his eyes never leaving me. The bandage is soaked through now, dark red spreading across the white gauze. He needs medical attention, but he's refused to leave my side even when the doctor suggested it.
"The baby's heartbeat is strong, from what I can tell," the doctor says, moving the wand carefully inside of me. "No signs of distress. But you should rest. No strenuous activity for at least a week. And if you experience any cramping, bleeding, or?—"
"She'll rest," Kazimir says. His voice is rough, exhausted. "I'll make sure of it."
The doctor nods, making notes on a tablet. "I'll prescribe something for the pain and inflammation. And prenatal vitamins. You're malnourished—not severely, but enough that I'm concerned. You need to eat regularly. Small meals, high protein."
I nod, barely processing the words. The baby is okay. That's all that matters. Everything else—the bruises, the exhaustion—can wait.
The doctor leaves, and Kazimir moves to my side immediately. His good hand cups my face, tilting my head up so he can look at me.
"You're sure you're okay?" he asks. "Tell me the truth, Svetlana. If something's wrong?—"
"I'm okay." I cover his hand with mine, holding it against my cheek. "We're okay."
He exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. Then he leans down and presses his forehead to mine, his eyes closing. "I thought I'd lost you. When I realized they'd taken you?—"
