Page 60 of The Mafia Bloodline
“Volken…”
Her voice was faint, hoarse from exhaustion, but it froze me. I turned instantly to see her eyes flutter open, unfocused but warm.
She gave me a small, trembling smile. “You should go, love.”
“Not a chance,” I said immediately, tightening my hold on her hand. “You need me here.”
She blinked slowly, her gaze searching mine. “You being stubborn is stressing me out more than the contractions did.”
Viking snorted softly from behind me. “She’s got you there.”
I shot him a glare, but Runa’s lips curved into the tiniest smirk. Even half-conscious, she was impossible to argue with.
“Please,” she whispered. “For me. Go. Rest. Come back tonight.”
I sat there for a long moment, every instinct screaming to stay. I didn’t want to leave her side not even for an hour, not when the scent of antiseptic and fear still lingered in the air.
But Viking was right. The doctor was right. And worse, she was right.
My hand shook slightly as I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You promise to stay in bed?”
Her eyelids drooped, and she gave a sleepy nod. “If you promise to come back, besides I’m going to sleep the whole day.”
I leaned down, pressing my lips to her forehead, lingering there until I could feel her heartbeat against mine. “Always,” I murmured. “There’s nowhere else I’ll ever go.”
When I straightened, Viking gave me a knowing look, the kind only an older brother could. “She’ll be fine. You won’t, if you don’t move before sunrise.”
I hesitated at the door, glancing back one last time. She’d already drifted off again, her hand still resting protectively over her belly.
“I’m leaving two changelings outside her door,” I said quietly to the doctor as we stepped into the hall. “They don’t move. Not for anyone but me or Viking. Understood?”
“Understood,” the doctor said.
Viking clapped me on the shoulder as we walked out into the hallway. “You’ll drive yourself mad before this baby’s born.”
I huffed out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Too late for that.”
And as the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the hospital’s frosted windows, I looked back once more, whispering to myself the only truth that mattered, “She’s my life. Both of them.”
Then I stepped into the fading dark and let Viking drag me home before the light could take me too.
Chapter 20
The first thing I felt was quiet.
Not the sterile silence of the hospital, but something heavier, a kind of stillness that pressed at the edges of my awareness. Then came the ache, deep and low in my stomach, and the soft beeping of a monitor somewhere beside me.
I blinked my eyes open.
The light filtering through the curtains was soft and muted, a late-afternoon glow, and for a few seconds I didn’t know where I was. The walls were too white, too clean. The sheets smelled faintly of antiseptic and smoke. Then I remembered, the contractions, the panic, Volken’s arms lifting me, the rush of the car ride, the doctor’s voice saying too soon.
My throat tightened.
I turned my head and froze when I saw a man sitting at the foot of the bed, long legs stretched out, arms folded across his chest.
Gideon.
He wasn’t smiling, but there was something like warmth in his pale eyes, a kind of quiet watchfulness that seemed to fit him perfectly. His dark hair was tied back, his coat still speckled with the faint dust of the night outside.
