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Lyon crossed his arms over his shoulder, his face turning to steel. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The doctor sighed. “Mr. Antonov…”
“It’s okay,” Kira said. “Just give us a minute.”
He scowled, his eyes stormy. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
The doctor waited for the door to close behind Lyon. “Do you remember anything?”
Kira swallowed against the images and sensations that flashed in her mind: a street filled with cars, the cold stinging her cheeks, her hand sliding into a glove.
Then: a brick wall at her back, a throbbing in her head, dirty concrete under her legs.
Musa, pulling her to her feet. His fist connecting with her face.
“I… I was attacked,” she said.
The doctor nodded. “You were brought in by the police. Do you know who attacked you?”
Musa. Musa Shapiev.
She shook her head. The police wasn’t how the bratva handled its problems.
“That’s okay,” the doctor said. “It may come back to you. The police will want a statement eventually, but I don't see any evidence of permanent damage. We’ll need to keep you overnight for observation just to be safe.”
“Was I…” Kira swallowed against the question screaming in her brain. “Was I raped?”
The doctor shook her head. “We did a kit, just in case, but there’s no evidence of that.”
Tears leaked from Kira’s eyes. She lifted her hands to brush them away.
The doctor looked down at her, sympathy in her dark eyes. “Do you know you’re pregnant?” she asked gently.
Kira blinked in shock. “What?”
“Your lab results show you’re pregnant,” the doctor said. “You didn’t know?”
Kira shook her head, fumbling through her mind for the details that would make it make sense. She’d been home for less than a month, but before that, she and Lyon, carried away by the unexpected passion of their new marriage, hadn’t been very careful.
She thought of the last night she’d spent in Chicago, the last night she’d spent in Lyon’s arms before she left, the night of her father’s funeral.
Almost exactly eight weeks ago.
“Is… is the baby all right?” Kira asked.
“We won’t know that for sure until we do an ultrasound,” the doctor said. “But we were able to pick up a heartbeat with the Doppler, which is a good sign. The body is built to protect its fetus, but we can do an ultrasound whenever you’re ready, just to give you some peace of mind.”
“Did you tell my husband?” Kira asked.
The doctor shook her head. “We wouldn’t do that without your consent.”
“Can we… not tell him just yet?” Kira asked. She needed time to process the news herself, to figure out what it meant for her marriage to Lyon.
“It’s your decision. We can do the ultrasound when he goes home to change.” The doctor smiled. “He hasn’t left your side, you know.”
“How long have I been here?” Kira asked.
“Almost twenty-four hours. He’s been here the whole time. Hasn’t even eaten as far as I know.” She put her flashlight back in the pocket of her lab coat and started for the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning before I sign off on your release. We can talk then about a referral to a therapist.” She turned back to look at Kira. Her eyes were kind. “You’ve been through a trauma. You might need some help working through it.”
