Page 40 of Vendetta Crown

"Thank you," she says softly. "I think we've got what we need."

A wave of nausea crashes over me without warning. My vision tunnels, the room spinning wildly.

"I need—" I barely manage to choke out before doubling over, my breakfast spattering onto the floor as I vomit.

Ruslan's at my side in an instant. I feel the gentle weight of a blanket draping over my bare shoulders, his warm hands gathering my hair away from my face. But before I can thank him, I retch again, my body convulsing.

Shame floods through me as fast as the nausea.

"I'm—"

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble against my ear. "I got you,zarechka."

"I'm sorry." My stomach clenches again and I gag on the words.

"Don't apologize," Ruslan says firmly. His hand makes slow, comforting circles on my back. "You did nothing wrong."

Through tear-blurred eyes, I catch sight of Natalie hovering awkwardly by her equipment, clearly unsure whether to help or give us privacy. The blanket slips from my shoulder, and Ruslan carefully tucks it back around me, shielding me from exposure.

"Hannah," Ruslan commands without looking away from me, "go get some water. Now."

I hear Hannah's footsteps hastily retreating. My fingers clutch desperately at Ruslan's sleeve as another wave of nausea rolls through me.

"I didn't think—" The words dissolve into another violent heave.

There's nothing left in my stomach now, just painful dry spasms that leave me gasping.

"I've got you," Ruslan whispers, his lips against my temple. "I'm right here. You're safe."

His voice wraps around me like armor, keeping the broken pieces of me from falling apart completely. I focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, trying to match it with my own.

"You'll be alright, Aurora," he continues, his thumb brushing away tears I didn't realize were streaming down my face. "I have you. I won't let go."

Hannah rushes back into the room, water bottle in hand. She kneels beside me, uncapping it and offering it to me with worried eyes.

I take the water bottle from Hannah with trembling hands, struggling to grasp it firmly. The cool plastic slips against my sweaty palms, but I manage to take a small sip, swishing it around my mouth to clear the acidic taste before swallowing.

"Take it slow," Hannah murmurs, keeping her hand on my back.

The water soothes my raw throat, and I take another careful sip before attempting to stand. My legs feel like jelly beneath me, but Ruslan's steady grip on my arm keeps me from collapsing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his golden eyes searching my face with such intensity that I have to look away.

I nod, clutching the blanket tightly around my shoulders. "I'm okay now. I think."

Ruslan turns toward Natalie, who's been quietly packing up her equipment. "Thank you for your discretion," he tells her. "We appreciate your professionalism."

"Of course," she replies, closing her camera bag. "I'll have the preliminary edits ready by tomorrow."

As Natalie gathers the last of her things and prepares to leave, Ruslan keeps one arm protectively around my waist, guiding me toward the door.

"I'll speak with the kitchen," he says once we're in the hallway. "See if they've done something wrong with breakfast."

"I don't think it's something I ate," I tell him, leaning against his solid warmth. "Nobody else is getting sick."

Hannah walks alongside us, her face pinched with concern. "It's probably just nerves. That was intense in there."

Ruslan nods thoughtfully. "I'll have the kitchen fix something light and bland for you. Some toast, maybe a light soup."

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