Chapter 28 — Nial
~ Three Months Later
The sound of her painful screams tore through me worse than any bullet ever had. Her grip tightened around my hand with an incredible strength that almost crushed my bones.
She was covered in sweat, her chest heaving with ragged breaths as she struggled to push. The labor was longer than expected, brutal, and way out of my control. I felt useless standing beside her, unable to do a damn thing.
The doctor and nurses were working together to make sure she gave birth without complications. But it seemed my wife was already losing strength.
“Nial!” she screamed my name, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“I’m here,” I said, wiping the sweat on her forehead. “I’m here—I’m here.”
“We’re gonna need you to push harder, Mrs. Tarasov,” the doctor said, glancing up at her.
“I can’t…” she wept, shaking her head. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can,” I said, tapping her face. “Look at me—look at me.”
She did, her eyes wide with fear.
“You can do this, okay? I’m right here, and I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
She locked her jaw and nodded, her nails digging into my palm. “I can do this.”
A guttural cry tore out of her.
It almost didn’t sound human.
Fuck.
The agony in her voice left a dent in my heart that would last a lifetime. I’d experienced some pretty horrible things in my time on this earth. But this was gruesome even for me.
I’d always heard that the pain of childbirth was on a different level, but I never truly understood what that meant. Being present in this room and witnessing all the pain my wife had to endure broke something in me.
Her screams shattered my heart, leaving me scared and confused. If I had my way, I would trade places with her this instant and go through this pain for her. The suffering was way too intense for someone whose only crime was wanting to give life.
Fuck.
My stomach had never twisted the way it did today, and that terrified me.
The more they encouraged her to push, the more she strained her body. I wasn’t the one on the bed, but I could feel her pain. I’d sincerely give anything to take her place right now. Anything at all.
“It hurts, Nial, it hurts…” she cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Make it stop, please.”
“Doctor, do something!” I barked at him.
“She has to push, Mr. Tarasov,” he said, his voice calm but laced with a hint of urgency. “I can almost see the baby’s head.”
“You hear that, my love?” I caressed her face. “They can almost see the baby’s head.” I beamed at her, my tone reassuring.
“I’m tired,” she whispered.
“I know, but you can’t give up now,” I said, staring into her eyes. “Just breathe with me.” I drew a deep breath: in through my nose, out through my mouth.
She did the same, her chest rising and falling as she mimicked me.
“Good,” I whispered to her. “Very good.”
“Don’t let go of my hand.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
She inhaled deeply, then began releasing short, rapid breaths as if preparing herself.
The next sound that came out of her wasn’t a scream at first but a low, guttural groan. Veins lined her forehead, and her face turned red as the sound was ripped out of her chest like something primal.
My heart sank just by watching her suffer, unable to do anything to help.
She threw her head back on the pillow as a ragged scream exploded out of her. Her voice, dripping with sheer agony, tore through the room, making my stomach twist.
“Almost there!” the doctor announced, anticipation lacing his tone.
Her screams intensified, more terrifying by the second. She held on tightly to my hand like her life depended on it, and I refused to let go.
“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” I said. “It’s almost over—just a little longer.”
“Ghhh…!” she growled, as though lifting something impossibly heavy.
“Come on!” The doctor clapped once. “Just one more push!”
Kiera closed her eyes so tightly I thought they would pop. And with what seemed to be the last of what little strength she had left, she pushed.
Seconds later, the cry of a baby filled the room, the unfamiliar sound hitting me like a dagger to the chest.
“You did it, Mrs. Tarasov,” the doctor said, rising with the bloodied infant in his arms. “Congratulations.”
Only then did her body go slack against the pillows, her fingers loosening weakly around mine. Strands of damp hair clung to her forehead, her skin flushed and slick with sweat.
Her shaky breaths came in uneven gasps as her chest rose and fell. Exhaustion washed over her pale face as though the fight had suddenly drained out of her.
She didn’t bother sitting up; she just lay there, eyes struggling to stay open. Her lips curled into a faint grin when she met my gaze, her body still trembling.
The amount of strength this woman had displayed tonight was like none I’d ever seen. She endured one of the worst kinds of pain known to man, and she survived.
Watching her give life was traumatizing as fuck, and that image would stick with me for the rest of my days. Realizing the tremendous pain that mothers endure to bring a child into this world made me start rethinking everything.
I’d been taught to take the lives of those who crossed us and not feel a thing about it. But seeing the agony of childbirth, I couldn’t help wondering what exactly gave me the right to take a life I couldn’t give.
The respect I had for my wife and every other mother out there multiplied tenfold. These women deserved better than how most men treated them. They should be adored, respected, and valued for all their sacrifices.
I’d spent enough time around men in agony to understand the hierarchy of pain. And what I’d witnessed tonight was on the top of that list.
“Hey,” I called softly, sitting on the edge of her bed. “You did it.”
“No.” She beamed at me. “We did it. Both of us.”
“I am so proud of you, Kiera,” I whispered, my tone laced with sincerity.
Tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Here you go.” The doctor materialized beside me, holding the infant wrapped in a white cloth. “It’s a boy.”
My brows arched, and I glanced back at my wife, who had the most beautiful smile on her face.
I rose to my feet, and the tiny little creature was placed in my arms. The second I looked at the baby, something frozen melted within me. His small fingers were clenched together, his eyes barely open.
“Handsome,” I said, my heart swelling with joy.
“I wanna hold him.” Kiera sat upright, her back against the wall, arms stretched out.
“Of course.” I carefully handed him over to his mother.
She accepted the infant, who was making little snuffling sounds as he breathed through his tiny nostrils. Her smile broadened. “Hey, cutie pie,” she whispered. “Welcome to Earth.”
I sank into the edge of the bed again, a thousand thoughts overlapping in my mind. “This is the best gift anyone has ever given me.”
She raised her head, her sparkling eyes locking with mine
“Thank you.”
Her response was a gorgeous smile that reached her ears.
How could something so pure come from a life soaked in sin?
Our child was too innocent for the world we lived in. And it wasn’t until now that I understood why, earlier, Kiera didn’t want our kid to be a part of my life.
She’d looked into the future and was afraid for the baby’s safety. I hadn’t understood her then, but I did now. And it terrified me.
“He looks just like you,” she said, stealing a glance at me.
I stared at the adorable little creature, searching for the resemblance. “On the outside, yes,” I replied. “But on the inside, I hope he’s more like you.”
Her smile gradually vanished, replaced by something a little more serious. She looked at me as though she could sense that something strange was going on in my head.
“If he’s more like me, he won’t survive in your world,” she said. “He won’t be able to lead the empire you’ve built. He’d let his emotions get the best of him all the time. And in this world, nothing is more dangerous than that.”
I let out a scoff. “You’re stronger than you think, my little lawyer.”
“And you’re not as bad as you think, my love,” she said, a faint grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I guess we both don’t give ourselves the credit we deserve.”
“I guess not.” She chuckled lightly.
I leaned in, our lips inches apart.
“Before you let him kiss you, remember the pain you just survived,” a familiar voice cut through the stillness.
She smiled, her forehead resting on mine for a brief moment before turning toward the door.
Mikhail walked in, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other buried in his pocket.
“Father, what’re you doing here?” I asked, my tone polite.
“I heard my daughter-in-law had gone into labor, and I decided to drop by.” He walked over to us and set the flowers beside her. “I hope you like them.”
Her smile broadened. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“How’d you know when she went into labor?” I asked him, my gaze unwavering.
“Same way I know you both gave me a grandson,” he answered, his eyes falling on the infant in his mother’s arms. “You’re not the only one with eyes and ears everywhere, son,” he added.
Kiera noticed my discomfort with my father’s presence and mouthed, “Be nice.”
I twisted my face into a faint scowl in response, then faced my old man. “Do you mind? I wanna be with my family…alone.”
An awkward silence fell in the room, my wife’s gaze shifting across the two of us.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a quiet sigh. “It’s your turn to be a father now,” he said, meeting my gaze. “I hope you do better than I did.”
There was no hostility or venom or even traces of sarcasm in his tone. It was as though he actually meant what he said.
He lingered a little longer before turning toward my wife with a curt nod. “Kiera.”
She flashed him a faint grin.
Quietly, he stepped out of the ward and closed the door behind him.
She stared at me with a mock scowl on her face. “I told you to be nice.”
“I was. That was me being nice.”
“What’s the deal with you two anyway?”
A pause.
“Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year.”
“Then don’t follow in his footsteps.”
“I won’t,” I said, “How can I when I have you beside me?” My mouth curled into a smile.
Hers did too.
“Now, where were we?” I leaned in, planting a soft, passionate kiss on her lips.
On this day, I finally accepted the truth I’d spent years denying. True power never came from instilling fear in others. It came from having something worth protecting, something worth dying for.
Mine was my family.
I would never hesitate to lay down my life to save them if it ever came to that. I wouldn’t mind burning the world to the ground just to keep them safe, either.
They were my home, my peace, and the light in my dark. These two were everything I ever needed and more. Why wouldn’t I protect them?
“What’re we gonna name him?” she asked me.
I glanced down at the infant in her arms. “Nikolai.”
“Nikolai Tarasov,” she said, beaming. “The name has a ring to it.”
The boy was named after strength. Not legacy. Because it took his mother every ounce of strength she had to push him into this world.