Chapter 92
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Lily
The scan photo is folded in my hand so tightly it’s starting to crumple. It’s barely anything right now.
A tiny blob. A promise that doesn’t feel real yet. But it’s mine. Ours.
My fingers tremble as I walk down the hospital corridor, my heart thudding so hard it feels like it’s trying to climb out of my throat. The smell of antiseptic is everywhere, sharp and clean and wrong for something this messy.
Drago is right behind me. Close enough that I can feel his heat at my back. Close enough that if I falter, he’ll catch me before I hit the floor.
His hand keeps hovering near my waist like he doesn’t trust the world not to take me again. Like he doesn’t trust himself not to break if it does.
I glance back, and he meets my eyes immediately, his face hard with control but cracked at the edges.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod even though I’m not sure what okay means anymore. “I’m… trying,” I whisper.
He reaches around me and laces our fingers together, squeezing once. A silent, I’ve got you.
We stop outside Dad’s room. The one I’ve walked into every day for the past week with a sick hope in my chest and a smile that never reaches my eyes.
The nurses know us now. They don’t even look twice when Drago stands by the door like a guard dog.
I stare at the handle.
My palm is damp.
The scan photo is warm from being trapped in my hand.
“Just breathe,” Drago mumbles behind me, his mouth brushing the side of my head. “I’m right here.”
I nod again, throat tight. Then I push the door open.
And for a second, my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing.
Because Dad isn’t still. Dad isn’t grey and silent beneath tubes and machines. Dad’s eyes are open. Not glazed. Not blank. Open and alive.
My body goes cold. Then everything inside me collapses at once.
“Dad…” I say softly. The word is barely sound. More like a prayer.
His gaze locks onto mine.
And I watch his face shift, the faintest tightening around his eyes, like waking up hurts. Like staying alive hurts. Like he’s fighting even now.
“Lily…” he rasps. His voice is ruined. But it’s his.
It’s fucking his.
The scan photo slips in my fingers. My knees buckle.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until it’s pouring down my face, and my chest is heaving so hard I can’t pull in air.
I stumble forward. “Dad, oh my God—” I choke. “Oh my God, you’re awake…”
His hand twitches on the bed, like moving takes everything he has.
I grab it instantly and clutch it to my chest. Holding it as if I let go, he’ll disappear again. “You came back,” I sob. “You came back to me.”
He swallows, throat working like it’s painful. “I… tried…” he manages, voice scraping. “For you.”
My heart splinters. “Thank you,” I breathe out, pressing my forehead to his knuckles.
I pull back just enough to look at his face. He looks older. Softer. Human. And I hate that it took blood and war for me to see him like this.
My hand shakes as I lift the scan photo. “I told you,” I whisper. “I told you you had to wake up…”
Lev’s brows knit, confusion flickering. “What…” he rasps. “What is that?”
A laugh breaks out of me. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. “I’m pregnant, Dad.”
The words hang there like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. For a second, Dad just stares at me like his brain can’t catch up. Then his eyes squeeze shut, and when he opens them again, there’s devastation in them.
Not from pain or fear. It’s something else. Something softer.
“A baby,” he whispers, voice cracking on the word.
I nod frantically.
“Yes,” I sob. “A baby. Your grandbaby.”
His fingers tighten around mine, weak but there.
And when he looks at me again, his gaze is fierce even through exhaustion. “You’re safe now?” he rasps. “You okay?”
I choke out a laugh through tears. “Yes,” I tell him. “Because he’s here.”
I glance back, and Drago is still in the doorway.
Frozen. Like he’s afraid that if he steps closer, the moment will shatter.
His jaw is clenched so tight it could crack teeth. His eyes are red-rimmed, shining… he looks like he might actually fall apart.
Lev’s gaze shifts to him. And it changes. Like something in him recognizes his boy instantly.
Drago finally moves.
One step. Then another.
He stops at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on Lev like he’s making sure he’s real. His voice comes out low, wrecked. “You’re awake,” he says simply.
Lev stares at him for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth twitches.
Barely. But it’s there.
“Boy,” Lev rasps, voice battered but unmistakably him, “you got my daughter pregnant?”
I freeze.
Then a laugh bursts out of me so hard it turns into a sob, and the sound is ridiculous in this sterile room full of machines and trauma and miracles.
Drago’s face cracks.
Shock first… then relief hits him like a train. A broken, breathless laugh drags out of his chest, and his eyes glass over so fast it guts me.
“Yes,” he admits hoarsely. “I did.”
Lev’s eyes narrow like he’s trying to glare, but he’s too weak and too alive for it to land properly. “Fucking hell,” Lev mutters, almost offended by the concept and proud at the same time.
Drago steps closer. “You don’t get to scare me like that again,” he says. “Do you hear me?”
Lev blinks slowly.
Drago’s jaw trembles, and I swear to God he’s one breath away from crying. “You don’t get to bleed out on my floor,” Drago continues, “and leave me without saying a real goodbye.”
Lev coughs, wincing, and I tense instantly, but his hand stays locked in mine.
He’s here. He’s still here.
“Still alive,” Lev rasps, like it’s the only apology he knows how to give.
Drago lets out a shaky breath that sounds like it hurts. “Yeah, you’re too stubborn to die.”
Lev’s gaze holds his, the jokes fading into something raw underneath. “You kept her safe,” Dad says, voice hoarse.
Drago nods once, eyes shining. “I tried.”
Lev’s brows pinch, like he’s insulted by the word. “Not tried,” he corrects. “Did. You did me proud, boy.”
Drago swallows hard. His eyes flick to me for half a second, and there’s so much in that look it nearly drops me to my knees. Then he looks back at Dad, voice barely above a whisper. “I told you, I love her,” he says.
No performance. No ego. Just the truth.
Dad stares at him for a long moment. Then he exhales. “Good,” Dad murmurs. “Because she deserves love.”
My throat closes.
Drago nods again, and this time the words come out like a vow he carved into his bones. “I’ll give her everything,” he whispers. “I swear it.”
Dad’s eyes drift to the scan photo in my hand like it’s sacred. “A grandad,” he murmurs again, his voice cracking.
“Yes, dedushka.” I sob, leaning in and kissing his cheek carefully. His eyes close, and a single tear slips down the side of his face.
I catch it with my thumb like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
Drago takes another step forward, close enough now that Dad could reach him if he had the strength.
His voice goes rough again, half joke, half broken sincerity. “And when the kid grows up,” Drago murmurs, blinking hard, “I’m teaching them to call you ‘old man’ too. Or shall I teach them to call you it in Russian? Ded.”
Lev’s mouth twitches. A real smile this time. “You better teach them Russian,” he rasps. “Start them young. I’ll be chasing them round in no time.”
Drago lets out something between a laugh and a sob, and he lowers his head for a second like he’s trying to keep himself together. Then he looks up again, eyes bright and shining and full of love that he doesn’t know how to hide.
“You hear that?” Drago tells him, his voice shaking. “You’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not when she needs you. Not when we need you.”
Lev’s gaze softens, and for the first time… he looks peaceful. Not because the pain is gone. But because he knows he made it back. Back to me. Back to Drago. Back to something that feels like a future.
And for a moment… It’s just us.
Just the fragile miracle of making it out the other side. It’s been years since I’ve felt safe. Years since I’ve felt real love.
And now, I have everything I could possibly need right in this room. And I refuse to ever let go of that.