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But all I feel is relief.At least she’s awake.
I grab her free hand. “Emma? Can you hear me?”
She blinks her eyes open, squinting against the fluorescent light searing down on her. “W-where am I?” she asks hoarsely.
“You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”
She doesn’t seem convinced. Her blinking is fast, her breath hitching up every few seconds. The nurse on the opposite side of the bed grabs her shoulder and pins her down.
“Miss, you’re going to be disoriented for a while. I need you to calm down.”
Emma turns to me, wracked with fear. “R-Ruslan?”
“I’m here.” She doesn’t look disoriented so much as scared.Why the fuck did I let her walk away from me?This is my fault.This is all my fucking fault.“I’m right here.”
I sit at her side, practically without breathing, while they take blood samples and check her for signs of internal bleeding. The whole time, she clings to my hand tightly and refuses to let go. That’s fine by me—I’m not letting go of her, either.
“Ruslan…” she whispers when the nurse excuses herself to go get the ultrasound machine. “What happened?”
I’ve been biting my tongue this whole time but her question finally gives me permission to ask. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
She frowns. The vein in her forehead comes back with a vengeance. “I remember the… club. We… we were dancing. I went to the b-bathroom. I thought you were right behind me.”
My jaw clenches. “Did someone attack you?”
She cringes as though someone’s just shone a bright light in her eyes. “I… I can’t remember.Someonewas behind me. I just remember… falling.”
Someone’s gonna fucking die for this.
The nurse reenters the room, pushing a large machine on wheels. “Excuse me. I’m going to perform the ultrasound now.”
Emma turns to me with alarm. “Ruslan…?”
“Don’t worry. It’s just to rule out any internal damage.”
But her frown doesn’t ease. “I… What if I’m pregnant…? I fell so far…”
The nurse chimes in, “If you are, the ultrasound will help us determine if the baby is alright. If there’s even a baby in the first place.” She steps forward holding a thin metallic probe. “Ma’am, the best way to get the clearest view of your uterus at this stage would be transvaginally. With your permission, I’ll insert this and begin scanning.” She holds up the probe. “You’ll feel mild discomfort at first.”
Emma just nods but her forehead vein is throbbing hard.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper, drawing her eyes to me. “It’ll be over soon.”
She keeps her eyes on me, flinching and sucking in a sharp breath when the nurse inserts the probe. I hold my breath as the nurse squints at the monitor with an eagle eye. A part of me wonders if this is how Emma and I learn we’re going to be parents. It’s the first time my thoughts on fatherhood haven’t centered around the Oryolov Bratva, around heirs and successors and doing my duty.
It’s the first time I’ve thought simply,I want this forthis. For her. For us.
“Hmm.”
Emma’s breath catches in her chest. “Was that a good ‘hmm’ or a bad ‘hmm’?”
The nurse flushes and she clears her throat self-consciously. “There seems to be an anomaly on the ultrasound. This will need a doctor’s expertise. I’ll be right back.”
She looks at me helplessly. “She didn’t say if it was a good ‘hmm’ or a bad ‘hmm.’”
“We’ll deal with it—whatever it was—together.”
I want to be her rock now, because God knows she needs that. But my words fall on deaf ears. She’s already chewing on the inside of her cheek and, no matter how hard I grip her hand, the vein in her forehead doesn’t stop thudding.
