16. Fighters
CHAPTER 16
Fighters
IVY
I give Alistair a while to calm down and gather his thoughts. I can feel his frustration. I hold his hand and wait for him to start talking, but all he does is shake his head.
Eventually, he bursts out. “Can you believe it?”
I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Honestly? No.”
It’s obvious to an observer what is going on, but poor Ariana is just so indoctrinated.
“They kidnapped her,” he grits out. “They killed Henderson Snr. and left Harry for dead. How can she know this and still be loyal to them?”
“Sandringham said it’s incredibly complex, and especially impossible to understand if you’re not in her shoes.”
He cinches his eyes shut as if he is in pain. “But it’s Ariana. Brave, loving, kind Ariana.”
Not at the moment, she’s not. She was pretty vicious to Alistair—as trapped animals are.
“We’ll get her help,” I say. “We’ll get Ariana back, the one you remember.”
Alistair stops and searches my eyes. “Do you really think so? Do you think it’s possible? She seems so … irredeemably … lost.”
“I know so,” I reply. “That little girl you lost is still there, inside her. She’s just hiding. It’s what trauma does. We need to show her that it’s safe for her to emerge.” I take a breath. “Fighting isn’t going to do that.”
Alistair rubs the back of his head. “I didn’t mean to be confrontational. Honestly, it’s the last thing I wanted.”
“It’s only because you care so much. The situation is … incredibly confusing and frustrating. But it won’t always be like this.”
“I just—” he sighs. “I just don’t understand how she can think of them as family.”
“I know this is really difficult to wrap your head around, but I understand it because, in a way—in a much less intense way—I was in Ariana’s position. I kept going back to Jeff even after he hurt me. And I had none of the history that Ariana and the De Lucas have. I wasn’t financially reliant on Jeff. I still kept going back.”
I used to hate myself for it. I think of myself as independent and intelligent, and yet I acted like a complete idiot. I used to tell myself how weak I was, how pathetic.
“Because he manipulated you,” says Alistair.
I see a flare of fury in his eyes even though Jeff is dead and he’s the one who made sure of it. “Yes,” I agree. “And also because of trauma bonding. I can tell you that it’s real. But I did eventually get out and so will Ariana. And we’re going to do everything we can to help her.”
He takes a deep breath and pulls me close. “Okay,” he murmurs into my hair, and I feel his muscles loosen. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I echo, feeling his body relax a little more. “Ready to go back in?”
When we reach Ariana’s door it’s closed, and there’s a nurse standing guard. My heart skips a beat, and Alistair lets go of my hand.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes, it is, dear. They’ll just need a minute.”
“Who’s in there?” demands Alistair, scanning her hospital ID card pinned to her uniform. Ever vigilant—not that anyone would blame him, with what he’s been through.
The nurse is taken aback by his tone and stammers an answer. “It’s Dr. Chatterjee.”
When Alistair steps toward the closed door, the nurse blocks his way. I’m pretty impressed by her bravery. He’s a tall, muscular, drop-dead gorgeous man, and she’s not having any of it. She’s four-foot-nothing and still manages to cut an authoritative figure.
“Just a few more minutes, sir,” she says, forced to lift her chin to look into his eyes.
I can imagine the paranoid thoughts rushing through Alistair’s head: that Sebastian is there to kidnap her again, that the Russians have sent an assassin, that Ariana has paid off the nurse to keep us out while she makes a run for it. He takes a breath and decides to step back, and we are forced to wait an agonizing four minutes before the handle turns and a doctor exits. Her face lights up when she sees us.
“Oh!” she exclaims in surprise. “I didn’t realize there were visitors. Hello and welcome,” she smiles. She makes a quick note on her tablet. “Miss De Luca is doing very well.”
To his credit, Alistair doesn’t completely lose his shit. Miss De Luca. Showing remarkable restraint, he nods at the doctor and clears his throat. “That is good to hear.”
“You can go in,” she gestures inside, still beaming. “I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
I clock her ID badge.
Dr. Suhana Chatterjee, OBGYN.
In my head, a red flag springs up so vividly it may as well have made a “boing!” sound.
Now why, I think slowly and carefully, would Ariana need an obstetrician?
Oh my god, oh my god. Things are about to get REAL.
The guarded door makes sense now, because you need privacy when you’re having a transvaginal ultrasound. And pretty much the only reason you’d need a transvaginal ultrasound outside of a gynae’s office is?—
“Mom and baby doing very well,” beams Chatterjee. “They’re both fighters!”