98

Mikhail
An arc of comfortable armchairs remains empty in the doctor’s living room while I pace the narrow hallway. Anton and Pavel watch me walk as they lean against the wall, their posture compacted to avoid accidentally brushing against me. There’s an open frown on Pavel’s face as he waits for me to finally lose it and explode. Anton doesn’t make direct eye contact, though he warily watches my every move from the corner of his eyes.
They have nothing to worry about. I caused this. I’m the reason why Maria was shot.
The door to the private surgery opens, and the grim expression on Dr. Belova’s face confronts me. Behind him, his wife hurries to the open door before I can rush into the room. Maria’s soft whimper places me on the edge of sanity and my body vibrates with anxiety.
But in an instant, the wide door is shut, a lock is thrown, and I am unable to reach Maria.
A thick lump forms in my throat and settles in the pit of my stomach.
“What’s going on?” I shout at him. “Is she all right? What about the baby?”
I promised to protect Maria and failed. I screwed up again. Another person I loved was shot by a bullet meant for me because I wasn’t able to do what I was expected to.
My rage flares as I shake Pavel and Anton’s hands off me. My hands grip Dr. Belova hard, shaking him as if he were the one who shot Maria.
He stares desperately at Anton and Pavel as my fingers find his throat. Fear widens his eyes and he gags for air.
Anton yanks him out of my hold while Pavel pushes me back.
“Mikhail Ivanov!” Pavel struggles against my anger. “It’s not his fault!”
Hands on his knees, Dr. Belova hunches over, catching his breath before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is stern.
“Mr. Ivanov,” he says. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but the patient must go to a hospital if there is to be any hope of saving the baby.”
“Will she live?” My words are hardly louder than my racing breath.
Belova glares at me coldly, then nods. “There’s not much more that I can do here. She needs a transfusion.”
The relief hits me in the chest, rocking me on my feet until it’s instantly replaced with a spike of adrenaline.
“Car. Now!” I shove Anton toward the front door and lurch for the locked doors again, but this time, the doctor places a strong grip on both my wrists and squeezes hard.
He’s had enough of my drama.
“No!” Dr. Belova’s raised voice freezes the commotion, and he gets into my face. “How will you explain a bullet wound to the police once you arrive?” He takes a deep breath. “My wife is calling a private ambulance. They’ll know what to do.”
I scrub my face with my hand, leaving my palms damp with sweat. My baby, my baby. Maria’s desperate words haunt my mind. No, our baby. I have to save our child. I have to do something. I can’t let my child die.
Dr. Belova places a firm hand on my shoulder to offer comfort. But I barely register the gesture, even though I understand I need to calm the fuck down for all our sakes.
“I haven’t been able to find the bullet,” he explains. “And she’s lost quite a bit of blood. Right now, I suspect that it was a grazing wound. But again, I don’t have the necessary equipment. Not for this.” He looks toward the front windows as red lights from the outside flash across the white interior walls. “I’ve patched up many people you’ve sent here. Trust my judgment again.”
I eye Belova as he attempts to smile soothingly, but the sight of his grin increases my unreleased anger. He couldn’t save Desmier. But then again, nobody could. The Lanzzare made sure my brother was dead.
But I won’t break my promise to Maria.
I knock his hand off my shoulder, dash to the front door, and swing it wide open, ignoring Anton’s frantic shouts not to. There’s no ambush waiting on the other side as two private medics-a man and a woman-race past me into the doctor’s house. Their heavy lace-up boots clump against the tiled floor as they carry a gurney toward the makeshift surgical suite.
I lean heavily against the wall and listen to the voices coming out of the room, speaking in medical terms I don’t understand. But that doesn’t matter. My goal tonight is to save a life … two lives. They know what to do, and I make myself stand still while watching helplessly.
Maria is unconscious, her eyes shut and her lips parted, as they transfer her limp body onto the gurney. I take a short step forward as she crosses my sight. My gaze never leaves her troubled face, but a strong hand wraps around my arm.
Turning, I stare into Pavel’s chill gray eyes. A silent warning is sent to me as he shakes his head in slow motion. My anger again attempts to find release at this critical moment, but I block it, knowing it will only make this night worse.
Pavel’s hand tightens and I focus my anger on another outlet-a more deserving one. Zakhar. He got away tonight, not caring what he did or what happened to his own daughter.
He’s a traitor, not only to the Bratva but also to Maria.
There’s no reason for her to protect him anymore. And she will understand that before I go to gun him down.
“What’s the address?” I demand.
“Mountainside,” Dr. Belova replies. “I know someone there.”
I look at him questioning. “On the payroll?”
He nods, herding us with outstretched arms toward the open front door. “She’s discreet and is expecting you. Be foolish, and you’ll shut me down. And then where will you go?”
Anton and I drive ahead while Pavel drives the second SUV, keeping a safe distance from the ambulance. The pale moon is still in the sky, disappearing gradually as the sky in front of us turns a murky gray. Anton keeps looking over at me, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel too tightly. His nervous glances poke and prod at my barely restrained rage, making it hard not to lash out at him.
“What is it, Anton?” My voice comes out in a growl.
“She begged me to take her,” he replies quickly. “I didn’t want to, but she said your life was in danger. You wouldn’t answer your phone, Mikhail Ivanov.”
“You shouldn’t have listened to her.” My agitation slowly recedes as the hospital comes into view. “I would’ve been fine.” Staring at the flashing red light ahead of us, I picture the horrible scene again, every vivid detail as it happened. I’ll never unsee it. Maria crying out to Zakhar and then shielding me with her body. Her pleading expression as she told me another secret she’d kept hidden from me.
My little fool.
“She saved me,” I sigh. “And she could’ve gotten killed because of me.”
When we arrive, I immediately jump out of the SUV and follow the gurney carrying Maria despite Dr. Belova’s warnings at his house. Anxiously, I watch her hand lift slowly to her face and then fall down. I hurry my steps to keep up. After several long strides, I’m almost by her side until I’m stopped by the male EMT with a cold warning look. His gaze tells me that my behavior will draw both attention and questions.
“She’ll be admitted as Eve Warner, and you are Aaron Smith,” he whispers firmly. “Now, go take a seat in the waiting room.” When I don’t move, he begrudgingly adds, “Please.”
No one acknowledges me as she disappears down the hallway to the surgery. I sense a presence beside me and turn to see Anton watching the gurney disappear behind an automatic door.
His throat bobs up and down.
“It’s my fault,” he whispers. The pain in his heart is plainly on his face-his mouth twists and his forehead creases. I can imagine exactly what he’s thinking. “I shouldn’t have taken her out,” he continues. He looks at me with desperate eyes. “Mikhail Ivanov, I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
I shake my head, staring down the corridor. “No one knew except her,” I whisper.
Anton lowers his head and covers his eyes with his hand. I misjudged how Maria’s presence has affected the people around me. I rarely see her with Anton, but somehow, she’s made a lasting impression on him. And though I’m in pain, I try to offer reassurance to him, but my own words will offer little comfort.
So, I cycle through my memory and try to recall what Larissa would have said to me at this moment.
Or what Maria might tell me.
“It’s not your fault, Anton Isaakevich.” My words echo down the now-empty corridor. “Zakhar is the only one to blame if either of our children dies.”