Chapter 34 Dante
DANTE
It’s over. I have her.
I lean on one knee, breathing through the burn in my arm. Rain patters on Maksim’s motionless body. The forest smells of wet earth and gunpowder.
Adriana’s voice trembles. “Is he dead?”
I glance at Maksim, at the glassy stare fixed on the sky, then back at her. “Yes.” My shoulder throbs; the slice is deeper than I first felt. I grit my teeth and push to my feet.
She hisses when she sees the blood soaking my sleeve. “You’re hurt.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I cup her face with my good hand. “Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”
Her eyes flood, rain mixing with tears. “You know?”
I nod, thumb brushing her cheek. “Found the test. I just need to know you’re safe. I left the house that minute. To find you.”
She sways forward, eyes shining. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. Maksim said—” Her voice cracks. “I didn’t know who to believe.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I pushed you away.
I should never have let anyone make you doubt yourself,” I say, pulling her closer.
I bury my face against her wet hair. She smells of pine and rain and something that feels like home.
“I love you, Adriana. I loved you before I had the courage to admit it, and I will love you until I take my last breath.”
A soft sob breaks from her throat. She fists my coat as if afraid I might evaporate. “I love you, Dante. God, I love you so much. I was selfish when I left but I couldn’t bear—”
I shake my head. “Don’t finish that sentence. I know what you were thinking, but it wasn’t true, none of it was. That was my father manipulating me.”
“What?” she says, looking confused.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, brushing a hand over her face. “I have you. I thought I’d lost you.”
“You never will,” she says. My pulse hammers when I feel her belly press against me. The thought of that tiny heartbeat steadies me more than any doctor could. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Behind us, Samie shifts, her chains gone but her eyes still hollow with fear. Liam crashes through the brush, gun up, Oleg right behind him. The instant Liam sees Adriana safe, relief softens his guarded stance.
Oleg kneels by Samie, speaking gently, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders. The girl flinches at every sound, and guilt knots my stomach—proof of the damage Maksim did while I saw nothing.
I turn back to Adriana. Blood from my arm drips onto the mud. She presses her scarf against the wound, trying to staunch the flow. Her hands shake, but her eyes never leave mine. “We have to get you to a hospital,” she says, voice gentle but fierce.
I want to stay pressed against her, to keep holding her just a moment longer, but I see the worry in her eyes.
I nod and let her guide me toward the car.
Oleg helps Samie into the back seat—she’s barely able to walk, skin pale and eyes vacant.
She clings to Adriana as if she’s the only safe thing in the world.
Liam slides behind the wheel. “How the hell is she still alive?” he mutters, glancing in the rearview mirror at Samie, whose arms are wrapped around herself as if she’s afraid she’ll vanish if she lets go.
Adriana buckles herself next to me, one hand on my chest as if afraid I’ll disappear too. “It must have been weeks since he took her,” she says quietly. “Maksim was sick. He…he kept them alive for weeks. He liked to watch them break before he let them go.” Her voice trembles with disgust and grief.
I clench my jaw against the pain in my arm and the ache in my chest. I’ve seen a lot of darkness in my life, but nothing like what I saw in Maksim’s eyes tonight. For the first time, I realize how close I came to losing Adriana.
The bright hospital lights sting my eyes.
Everything smells like antiseptic, rain-soaked clothes, and fear slowly draining away.
Samie is whisked off by nurses, wrapped in blankets, her face barely visible.
I catch Adriana’s hand and she sits beside me as the ER staff tape gauze to my arm, working fast, murmuring to each other about stitches and blood loss.
She winces when they swab the wound and I reach for her hand, squeezing it.
“You okay?” I ask, searching her face.
She hesitates. “Just a little pain in my side.” She tries to smile, but it falters. A nurse pauses, glancing at her.
“Are you pregnant?” the doctor asks, quick and direct.
Adriana nods, brushing damp hair out of her face. “Yes.”
“Have you had your first ultrasound yet?”
She shakes her head, looking nervous. “Not yet.”
The doctor’s voice softens. “You might want to get that checked out, just to be safe. I can arrange it tonight.”
She glances at me, worry flickering across her eyes. I squeeze her hand again. “Let’s do it,” I say. “We’ll do it together.”
After my stitches and painkillers, we move upstairs.
The halls are quiet, the hospital oddly peaceful after everything—the violence, the running, the fear.
Someone hands me a pair of scrubs to replace my bloody shirt.
Adriana sits beside me, holding my hand the whole time, thumb tracing over my knuckles.
Soon, a nurse calls her name. “Right this way, Ms. Volkova,” she says. Adriana blushes at the name, but I see something like pride in her eyes.
They wheel her into a softly lit room, a sonographer waiting, screen flickering blue and gray.
I sit by her head as she lies back, belly exposed, her shirt pulled up to her ribs.
The gel is cold when the nurse spreads it, making her laugh, shaky but real.
I slide my hand into hers. I feel the tremor in her fingers, but this time it isn’t from fear.
The sonographer places the wand against her stomach and turns the monitor toward us.
There’s silence at first, just the hum of the machine, Adriana’s breath catching, my own heart thumping in my ears.
The screen fills with shadow and light, shifting shapes.
Then, a flicker, a tiny, pulsing dot, bright and alive.
The sound bursts into the room—a steady, rapid heartbeat, impossibly strong and fast.
“There,” the sonographer says softly, smiling. “There’s your baby.”
Adriana lets out a shaky breath and brings her hands to her mouth. Tears spring to her eyes. “Is that—?”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the nurse says. “And—” She moves the wand gently, tilting the image. “Everything looks healthy so far. You’re early, but the heartbeat is strong.”
I can’t take my eyes off the screen. That flutter, that rhythm—my child, our child.
All the pain in my arm, all the wounds and fear of the last weeks, it just…
drops away. There is only this: Adriana’s fingers gripping mine, her breath hitching as she tries not to sob, the echoing sound of that tiny heart drumming out hope into a room full of strangers.
She laughs, the tears spilling down her cheeks. I wipe them away with my thumb, and for the first time, she doesn’t flinch at my touch. I bend over, pressing my forehead to hers. “That’s ours,” I whisper. “We made that.”
She nods, laughing through her tears. “I was so scared, Dante. I thought I’d lost everything.”
“You haven’t lost me,” I say quietly, kissing the salt from her cheek. “You never will. You gave me something I never knew I wanted.”
The sonographer prints a picture and hands it to Adriana.
She stares at the tiny shape—barely bigger than a peanut, curled up, perfect.
I kiss her temple, and for a long time we just sit, arms wrapped tight around each other, the monitor still humming, the baby’s heartbeat filling the space with a music I never want to forget.
We’re both quiet for a while. Adriana turns the image in her hand. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel happy again,” she says. “I didn’t dare hope.”
I brush her hair back, holding her close. “It’s over now. You’re safe. Our baby is safe.”
She pulls me down and kisses me, slow and full of everything she can’t say. I let myself sink into her, into the warmth and the promise of this new beginning.
When we finally part, she’s smiling through her tears. “Let’s go home, Dante.”
I smile back, heart full in a way I never thought possible. “Anywhere you are is home.”