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How in the hell did I get here? But my attention shifted to London on the other side, cradling something in his arms. But there was no Colt. Where was he?
“Colt…” I croaked, my throat bruised so bad I winced.
I reached up, gripped the rails and tried to pull myself upwards. But the moment I moved, agony plunged through my belly, making me catch my breath.
“Easy, Vivienne.” DeLuca stepped closer. “You’ve lost a fair amount of blood. You need to be gentle with yourself now.”
Blood?
I jerked my gaze to the mound of bedding on top of me. Bedding that should be higher…much higher. Images assaulted me. A knife buried deep in my belly…and the face of the man who’d put it there. “No…noooo…” I whimpered. “My babies. Please, my babies.”
London stepped forward. My pulse pounded as my gaze was drawn to the tiny bundle he cradled in his arms and a surge of love burst from me. I reached up, my fingers aching to touch, knowing instantly it was her. My daughter. My soul. “My son?” I croaked and touched her perfect cheek. “Where is my boy?”
But there was no answer.
Not from the doctor or London. The room went quiet, so quiet. Only that beep…beep…beep of the machine filled the room. So quiet the air grew heavy.
“London…” I fixed my gaze on his agonized stare. “Where is my son?” He just looked to DeLuca for guidance.
“The knife caused extensive damage. One inch deeper and we wouldn’t be here talking to you now. I need you to understand how serious it was. It was only a miracle you survived at all. The blade cut through the muscle, aimed at where your daughter was. Only she’d been pushed hard to the side and upwards, which resulted in some pressure on the side of her body, nothing that won’t disappear in the next few weeks. But your son, Vivienne. Your son took the blow.”
That knife plunged into me all over again.
Carving not into my stomach, but my heart.
Only this time I couldn’t see it.
“My boy…” Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over instantly. “Where is my baby boy!”
London shifted to the side, then I saw him. Colt was standing at the end of the room, his head bowed, his back to me. That low, throbbing call resounded in his chest. A softness. A connection. One only he had. He turned then, holding a bundle in his arms.
I didn’t care about the pain. Didn’t care about myself at all. I pulled myself upwards with all I had, until Carven grabbed me, gently lifting me until I sat upwards.
“The stitching will heal. He’ll be left with one helluva scar, but he survived and because of him, so did you and his sister.”
I couldn’t even see him, I was crying so hard. When Colt laid him in my arms, I unleashed a sob that shook my entire body. My boy…my beautiful, protective boy. He saved us, even before he was born. How could I love him more?
I blinked the tears, quickly swiping them away until I looked down into the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. They were the eyes of his father. That deep rumble came from Colt again, the sound making our son stretch and yawn, tilting his perfect face for me to see the white dressing that stretched from one side of his jaw and all the way across his mouth, then above his lip and upwards, stopping just under his eye.
“Oh fuck.” I sobbed. “Oh, Jesus. What the hell have I done to you?”
“Nothing.” Colt answered and stared down at our child. “He did this to protect you. To protect the both of you.”
I looked at our daughter, then held open my arms as London eased her next to her brother. They were perfect. Dark hair, big eyes. Only my boy was far bigger, lazily stretching out until his hand smacked hers. You’d think she’d cry or buck or something. But she didn’t, she stretched out just like him, until it wasn’t just their hands that touched, but their feet and legs too.
“They want to be together.” Carven’s eyes widened. “Look at them, they just want to be together.”
“Against their mom.” London added.
“And their fathers.” I turned from Carven to Colt, then London. “All three of them.”
FORTY
Helene
“She’s okay.” London stood in the doorway of the doctors’ break room cradling a baby in his arms.
No.
