Page 17 of Her Darkest Possession
And right now, more than anything else, I need him to.
"This isn't over, Baryshev." Ryan rubs his wrist. "Not by a fucking long shot."
"Funny," Anatoly replies, never breaking his eye contact with me. "Your father said the same thing. Now if you're done making empty threats and harassing my wife, you can fuck off."
Ryan gives everyone one final glare in the room, his eyes focusing for a short moment on Marcus' shirt that bears the name of the barbershop on it. A sneer flits across his face. He turns without a word, and walks out of the room, past Dr. Espina who stands there with an apologetic expression on her face.
But I don't care about that anymore. The only thing I care about is the fact that Anatoly is here. He's really here. My lips start trembling, and he closes the distance and sits down by the bed.
That's when the dam breaks inside of me, and I throw myself into his arms, sobbing as the events of the past day come rushing at me faster and faster.
Svetlana crumpling to the ground.
The bitter taste of the Mifeprex dissolving in my mouth.
Grisha's hand running up my thigh.
The weight of the gun in my hand.
Collapsing in the barbershop and waking up here.
It's all so overwhelming. And as I cry, a knot starts unraveling in my gut, and it feels like someone has loosened a noose around my neck. But as it loosens, so does the control over my own storm of emotions, and I cry harder as I cling to Anatoly.
"I'm sorry," I choke out between sobs. "I'm so sorry."
His arms tighten around me, one hand cradling the back of my head while he buries one tiny kiss after another in my mussed-up hair.
"There's nothing to be sorry about,printsessa," he whispers against my hair. "You did nothing wrong. I have you now. You're safe."
But no matter what he says, I can't stop the tears or the violent shakes that take over my body.
"Svetlana," I stammer. "They shot Svetlana?—"
"Svetlana's alive," he says, his voice steady and sure. "She'll make it. I promise."
A fresh wave of relief washes over me, making me sob harder. I bury my face against his chest, not caring that I'm soaking his expensive shirt with tears and probably snot too.
"And Amara? Is she alright?"
Anatoly's grip slackens, and fresh terror seizes my heart when he speaks. "They took her. But I'll get her back."
There's nothing that I can do other than nod as my tears soak the front of his shirt.
"Is it true?" His voice cracks slightly, just barely, but I catch it. "Are you... Are you pregnant?"
I pull back just enough to look at his face, to see the vulnerability there that he rarely shows to anyone. My hand finds his and guides it to rest on my stomach.
"I..." I whisper. " I don't know if the baby is alright."
Dr. Espina interrupts us, clearing her throat gently as she steps into the room.
"The ultrasound technicians are on their way now," she says, looking between us with professional detachment. "We'll know more about the baby's condition very soon."
Anatoly nods, his hand still resting protectively over my stomach. "Thank you, doctor."
His voice is steady and sure. But I'm not.
Terror crawls up my throat like bile as the reality of what happened hits me all over again.
