Page 110 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

I run.

I drop to my knees in front of her, hands shaking as I slice through the ties with my knife. The plastic snaps. Her wrists are raw, red rings where the ties bit in. I cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks.

“Laurel, baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She lifts her head slowly. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, but when they meet mine, something flickers, relief.

“Leonid?”

“I’m here baby, I’ve got you.”

I pull her into my arms, lifting her out of the chair. She’s trembling, I hold her against me, one arm under her knees, the other cradling her back, whispering into her hair over and over.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m here now. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Igor appears in the doorway, breathing hard, blood on his sleeve but none of it his.

“We’ve got Marco,” he says. “Alive. Tied up outside.”

I nod, jaw locked so tight it aches.

“Keep him breathing,” I tell him. “I want him conscious when I get there.”

Igor nods, already turning away.

I carry Laurel out of that hellhole, past the bodies. She buries her face in my neck, hands clutching my jacket.

I press my lips to her temple, voice rough against her skin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She’s sleeping now, curled on her side in the hospital bed. The monitors beep softly, her heart rate, her blood pressure, and the baby’s heartbeat, all steady.

The doctor just left after the latest check: she and the baby are doing fine. No lasting damage from the ordeal. Still, as a precaution, he recommends a few weeks of bed rest to give her body time to fully recover and to avoid any unnecessary stress on the pregnancy.

I almost lost her.

The thought sits like lead in my gut. I can still see her pale face when I cut the zip ties, the way her body trembled against mine as I carried her out. If I’d not put a tracker on her…

I drag a hand over my face, exhaling hard. I can’t think about it. She’s here. Breathing. That’s all that matters.

Her eyes flutter open. “Leonid?”

I’m at her side in an instant, leaning over the rail, taking her hand. “Right here, solnyshko. I’m right here.”

She blinks up at me, disoriented, voice small. “Where… where am I?”

“Hospital,” I say gently, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”

Her free hand immediately goes to her stomach, fingers splaying protectively over the swell. “The baby—”

“The doctor says you’re both fine,” I assure her quickly. “They’re keeping you overnight just to be sure, but everything’s stable.”

She exhales, a long, shaky sound of pure relief, and her shoulders sag against the pillows. “Thank God.”

I squeeze her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts,” she murmurs, wincing as she shifts. “Everything’s… fuzzy.”