Page 85 of Cruel Russian King
“Ninel, do we have to carry you out of here? You're clearly not fine,” Pyotr snapped.
I glared at my brothers. “I’m not fucking shot and bleeding out! I'll be okay!” I yelled. “I'm not going to abandon my husband when he needs me the most. Is that what a Bratva wife does? Is that how you raised me?”
My eyes fixed on Lev and Jaroslav. “Does she leave her husband at her lowest? How would you feel if your wives left you when you needed them?”
Jaroslav's eyes turned steely grey and Lev's jaw twitched.
“Things may not have turned out how any of us planned but we're here now. I may be the youngest but I'm not a little girl any more,” my voice cracked as I sank to my knees next to Artyom's head.
I ran my fingers gently through his hair before I met the gazes of my five brothers.
“I need you to trust that I could make the right decision for me. And besides,” I smiled weakly. “I'm pregnant for him. My place is with my husband. And I hope that you can all accept my decision because it's not going to change.”
I watched as shock rippled through the faces of my brothers.
Zahkar muttered, “Well fuck me.”
Lev sighed and nodded. As did the others.
“I can't say that I liked the position Artyom put us in. We will accept your decision but I can't say if we'll ever forgive him.”
I nodded.
I could live with that. Artyom would have to earn their trust, and I’d help him do it. At least I knew they wouldn’t try to harm him. The women had already forgiven him. In time, my brothers would too.
I focused on the man in front of me. I leaned over and kissed him on his cheek that was now cold.
“Don't leave us. We need you.”
Safin and Rykov men moved in the space snapping pictures of the dead men to run them through their databases before carrying them out of the room. Five minutes later paramedics ran in. Yegor behind them with Ruslan.
“Ruslan, take Mrs. Rykov home,” Yegor ordered.
“Are they taking Artyom home?” I bit out.
“No.”
My eyes narrowed. “I'm not going home without my husband. Got it?”
Yegor sighed. He rattled off the name of the hospital to Ruslan that they were taking Artyom too.
“We'll follow,” Lev said as we made our way to the cars.
“Thank you.”
When we got to the cars, Zahkar opened the door and I hopped in and he came in after me. Ruslan taking the wheel.
As I thought about everything I broke down and Zahkar pulled me into his arms.
“Artyom will be okay. There's no way he'll give up when he has a pregnant wife waiting for him.”
I hoped with everything in me that Zahkar was right.
Eight of us sat in the waiting room while surgeons worked on Artyom. Zahkar had changed into fresh clothes, but I refused to swap out my jeans, the knees stiff with Artyom's dried blood. It made me feel closer to him, and I needed that connection right now.
Lev had managed to coax me into letting a doctor examine me while we waited. He swore when he saw the black and blue mark on my back, and he held my hand during the ultrasound. My eyes misted when the little grey blur appeared on the screen. I was fine and so was the baby. But the doctor warned I’d be sore for the next few days after the accident. He handed me the medication, clear instructions scrawled across the labels.
Three hours later, Kira had joined us and she was wrapped in Yegor's arms, her eyes red and puffy. I sat curled on Lev’s lap, the bag of medication dangling from his hand while I clutched the sonogram envelope to my chest, praying the hardest I've ever prayed in my life.
