AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m three weeks along?” Alina cuts in incredulously, staring at Bureva. She pushes my arm off of her and leaps to her feet. “How is that possible when I’ve only been here for a week?”
That’s what she’s concerned about? I want to grab and shake her. Or better yet, carry her off somewhere where I can keep her safe. Only there’s no place that’s safe. The danger is inside her, within her.
It’s in her head.
I want to howl like the aforementioned wolf. I want to kill all the fucking doctors on this boat. Actually, no. I want to kill all the doctors who treated her throughout her life and didn’t catch this thing. Because it had to have been there for a while given the headaches, right?
And she is pregnant.
Terror bites at me anew.
She’s sick and pregnant.
“Pregnancy duration is counted from the date of your last period,” Bureva answers, her professorial tone setting my teeth on edge. “So at the time of your ovulation, you’re already considered to be two weeks pregnant, and by the time you’ve missed your period, you’re about four weeks along.”
Who the fuck cares about how they count pregnancy duration? I want to know what they’re going to do to save Alina’s life.
And the baby’s.
No, I can’t think about that.
I stand and advance on Kressler. “What are the next steps? Do you need to run more tests?”
He pales as I stop in front of him but rallies quickly. “Yes, definitely. The machines we brought aren’t nearly as advanced as what we have back home. We also need to schedule your wife’s surgery as soon as possible, so we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” He throws a nervous glance at Alina before returning his attention to me. “It will be an awake brain surgery, where your wife will be roused from anesthesia once we’ve opened her skull. We’ll be interacting with her as we perform the operation, so we can be sure we’re not cutting into any healthy tissue.”
They’re going to open her skull.
And cut into her brain without anesthesia.
Is he fucking with me?
Kressler prudently backs away. “We’ll do everything in our power to ensure that the patient is comfortable during the procedure. The brain has no pain receptors, so it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds. Our top neurosurgeon will perform the operation, and he has an excellent track record when it comes to preserving healthy brain tissue.”
My hands ball into fists. “Fuck his record. If he so much as harms a hair on her head—”
“What about the baby?” Alina interrupts, looking at Bureva. “Surgery, anesthesia—that can’t be good for him or her, right?”
Fuck. I guess there’s no choice but to think about that.
Bureva nods gravely. “You are correct, Alina Vladimirovna. The course of treatment Dr. Kressler outlined is incompatible with a healthy pregnancy. In fact…” She takes a breath. “If you do end up needing chemotherapy and radiation, you may want to freeze your eggs if given the chance. Otherwise, you may not be able to have children, ever.”
And as Alina sways on her feet from this new blow, I push aside my own terror and grief and pull her into my embrace.
Chapter 30
Alina
I’m either shell-shocked and not processing the events, or everything happens in the blink of an eye. Alexei carries me back to the submarine, with Ruslan accompanying us while barking orders to Larson and Vika, who stay behind on the yacht. The doctors follow us like a committee of grim-faced vultures, and as soon as the hatch door clanks shut above us, the engines of the massive underwater ship hum to life and my stomach pitches as I feel a downward motion.
It’s a strange sensation, knowing that we’re descending into the ocean’s depths while I’m in Alexei’s arms, being carried down the hallway. It’s like he’s Poseidon dragging me into the deep. Or Hades pulling me down into the underworld. Either way, I’m more than glad I’m not claustrophobic.
Under different circumstances, I’d be fascinated by our mode of transportation—Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas was one of my favorite books growing up. Right now, though, my mind is not on the engineering marvel that is the submarine, nor on the incredible deep-water creatures that might be swimming all around us. Instead, my thoughts are a chaotic jumble, my apparently tumor-riddled brain obsessively cycling through the doctors’ words.
Chemotherapy, radiation… thirty-percent survival rate.
Incompatible with a healthy pregnancy.
May not be able to have children, ever.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in Alexei’s neck. He’s warm and solid, the only thing that feels real in a world that has suddenly flipped on its axis. His familiar scent—winter forest, ocean, and leather—grounds me, even as dread and panic threaten to suffocate me.
All too soon, we’ve reached our destination, a windowless cabin furnished with a decent-sized bed, which is where Alexei gently deposits me before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.
