42. Aurora
42
AURORA
The doctor's voice fades in and out like a badly tuned radio. "You're lucky your husband got to you when he did, Mrs. Dragunov. Another few minutes and?—"
My head throbs with each syllable. Words like "collapsed," "debris," and "critical" float through my head, but I don't seem to take in a single one of them.
"Multiple fractures in your left hand. We've set the bones, but there may be permanent damage."
I stare at the bandaged mess of my left hand. It doesn't even feel attached to my body anymore.
"Your trachea sustained significant trauma from the strangulation attempt. Thankfully not crushed, but you'll experience soreness and difficulty swallowing for several weeks."
I nod blankly. Every breath feels like scraping sandpaper against raw flesh.
The doctor keeps talking, his clipboard a shield between us, but I'm barely listening. My good hand moves instinctively to my belly. I press gently, waiting for that familiar flutter.
The reassurance that Nadia and Andrei are still with me.
But I feel nothing.
My heart rate spikes on the monitor beside me. The rhythmic beeping accelerates into an urgent tempo.
"Doctor," I rasp, my voice a jagged whisper that barely escapes my damaged throat. "My babies. Are my babies okay?"
He pauses, looking up from his clipboard. The practiced neutrality in his expression slips for just a second, long enough for me to catch it.
"We've been mostly monitoring your condition right now, Mrs. Dragunov. The trauma you've sustained?—"
"Please," I force the word out, each letter a dagger in my throat. "Just tell me."
The doctor sets the clipboard down and meets my eyes. "I don't know yet. We've scheduled an ultrasound as soon as you're stabilized."
That non-answer hurts more than Kristofer's hands ever did. I press my palm flat against my belly, willing desperately to feel any movement. Any sign of life.
"How long?" I whisper.
"Within the hour. Your husband is being treated in the room next door. He's asked about you and the babies constantly."
My eyes burn with unshed tears. Ruslan came back for me. Just like Vera said: as sure as the tide.
But what if he came too late to save our children?
The doctor looks up, his expression softening as the door swings open.
"Mr. Dragunov. Good to see you up and moving."
Ruslan limps in, his face bruised but his eyes burning with intensity. The doctor gives him a nod and tucks his clipboard under his arm.
"I'll give you two some time alone. The ultrasound technician will be here shortly."
As soon as the door clicks shut, Ruslan crosses to my bedside. He sits down in the chair next to it and reaches for my good hand.
His fingers are warm against mine, his grip gentle but solid.
But that small tender touch breaks whatever fragile control I've been clinging to.
"Ruslan," I sob, my voice cracking through my damaged throat. "I can't feel them anymore."
My tears spill over, hot and unrelenting.
"I can't feel our babies kick. I've been trying and trying, but there's nothing. Nothing at all."
Each word feels torn from me.
My lungs burn with the effort to speak through my swollen throat. I look down at my belly, willing myself to feel that flutter.
To feel something.
Anything.
"What if they're—" I can't even finish the sentence. The possibility is too devastating to voice.
"Aurora." Ruslan's voice is low and steady. He releases my hand and cups my face, tilting it up until I'm looking directly into his golden eyes. "Look at me."
I blink through tears, trying to focus on his face.
"We're going to be alright. All four of us." His thumb brushes away a tear. "You can't lose hope now. Not now."
"But what if?—"
"No." The word is firm but gentle. "Hope is the only thing that's gotten us this far. It's the only thing that will carry us through."
Ruslan rises from his chair and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest.
I bury my face against him, soaking his clothes with my tears.
My body shakes with sobs that tear through my damaged throat. The pain is secondary to the hollow ache spreading through me.
A dread that paralyzes every rational thought.
"I'm sorry," I whisper into the fabric of his gown, the words meant not for him but for the tiny lives inside me. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."
My good hand cradles my belly, searching desperately for that flutter that I've become so accustomed to.
Nothing.
"Please," I beg silently to whoever might be listening. God. The universe. The spirits of my murdered family. Anyone.
"Please let them be okay. I'll do anything."
Ruslan's arms tighten around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. His warmth seeps into me, but can't touch the ice forming in my veins. My tears flow endlessly I grip him tighter, anchoring myself to his strength now that mine has abandoned me.
"They're fighters," Ruslan whispers into my hair. "Our little wolves. They won't give up without a fight."
I want to believe him. Need to believe him. But the silence from my womb screams louder than any words of comfort.
A knock at the door breaks through our shared grief. We both look up to see a young woman in scrubs wheeling in an ultrasound machine.
"Mrs. Dragunov? I'm here for your ultrasound." She offers a professional smile, but I can see the concern in her eyes.
My grip on Ruslan tightens as panic surges through me. This is the moment we'll know.
The moment we'll find out if our family is still whole.
I hold my breath as the ultrasound technician squeezes the cold gel onto my belly. Second stretches into eternity.
"This might feel a bit uncomfortable," she warns, positioning the wand over my exposed skin. Her gentle tone does nothing to ease the vice grip of fear around my heart.
I can't look at the screen.
Not yet.
Instead, I focus on Ruslan's hand in mine, on the warmth of his palm, the slight tremor in his fingers that betrays his own terror.
My mind flashes back to that moment when Dr. Reyes was moving the wand across my belly, the momentary silence before the miraculous sound of heartbeats filled the room.
How nervous I'd been then, worried about something I couldn't even name.
That fear seems almost quaint now.
I'd give anything to go back to that day. To feel that simple, uncomplicated joy again.
The technician sweeps the wand in slow, deliberate movements. Each second of silence is another knife in my heart. I squeeze Ruslan's hand harder, my fingers turning white with the pressure.
"Come on, little wolves," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Please."
Nothing.
The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the soft scrape of the wand against my belly.
"I might need to adjust some settings," the technician says, her voice carefully neutral as she presses the wand more firmly against my stomach.
My eyes find the ceiling, counting the tiles to keep from screaming. Twelve across. Eight down. Ninety-six total.
Numbers that mean nothing against the weight of this silence.
Hope begins to crumble inside me like a sand castle against the tide. I bite my lip until I taste blood, trying to hold back the sob building in my chest.
"Please," I repeat, not caring how desperate I sound. "Please."
Ruslan's fingers tighten around mine. When I finally find the courage to look at him, I see tears streaming silently down his face.
The technician frowns, adjusting a dial on the machine. She repositions the wand yet again, pressing it into a different spot on my belly.
Still nothing.
The ultrasound tech shifts the wand slightly, pressing harder against my lower abdomen. The look on her face makes my stomach clench.
"Just a moment," she murmurs, adjusting something on the machine.
I hold my breath, the pain in my damaged throat nothing compared to the agony of this silence. Ruslan's hand is warm in mine, but I can feel the tremor in his fingers, the fear he's trying so desperately to hide.
And then?—
A sound breaks through.
Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh.
Steady. Strong. Unmistakable.
The technician's face breaks into a genuine smile. "There we go."
Another sound joins the first. A second heartbeat, slightly faster but equally powerful.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
"Both heartbeats are strong," she says, her voice warm with relief. "Your children are doing just fine, Mrs. Dragunov."
I can't speak. Can't breathe. All I can do is listen to that beautiful rhythm—proof of life.
Proof that my babies survived what I survived.
"Let me see them," I croak, the words raw against my damaged throat. "Please."
She nods, turning the screen toward us. "Here they are."
The black and white image swims into focus. Two distinct shapes, curled toward each other like parentheses.
"Baby A," she points to the one on the left. "And Baby B." The one on the right.
Andrei and Nadia.
My fingers tremble as I reach out, touching the screen where my children float safely in their private universe. Their hearts continue their steady rhythm, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
Relief floods through me, so powerful it steals what little breath I have left. I turn to Ruslan and see tears streaming down his face, matching my own.
"They're okay," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Our babies are okay."
The technician wipes the gel from my belly with practiced efficiency and then she wheels the machine away.
The door shuts and my body surrenders to the weight of everything.
The fight, the terror, the relief.
I sink back against the hospital pillows, my good hand still clinging to Ruslan's like it's the only solid thing in this spinning universe.
Tears stream down my face, but they're different now. Clean. Healing.
"We did it," I whisper, my voice scraping against my swollen throat. "All of it."
Ruslan leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. "Semyon's dead. Kristofer's dead." His thumb traces gentle circles on my palm. "The Vori answers to me now."
I close my eyes, letting the reality wash over me. "It doesn't feel real yet."
"None of it would have happened without you." The raw honesty in his voice makes me open my eyes again. "I couldn't have done this without you."
Despite everything—the pain, the hospital smell, the lingering terror—I feel my lips curve into a smile. "And I couldn't have faced Kristofer without you."
"You're the one who plunged that knife into his throat," Ruslan reminds me, a hint of pride coloring his voice. "Not me."
"Well, somebody had to kill him." I squeeze his hand. "Couldn't leave you with all the fun."
Ruslan chuckles, the sound warm and rich. "No damsel in distress, just like you told me that first night."
"Except for the part where you literally carried me out of a burning building moments before it collapsed. Talk about cliché."
"Maybe we should include that in the next script." He leans closer, his stubble tickling my skin.
"So I can tear it apart for how unrealistic it is?" But I'm smiling as I say it, feeling the heaviness in my chest lifting with each breath.
"You love it."
"I love you," I correct him, the words falling easily from my lips.
Ruslan's eyes soften, his golden pupils melting like honey. He runs his thumb across my cheek, careful to avoid the bruises that are still tender to the touch.
"I love you, too, zarechka ," he whispers.
Somehow, this time, the words feel different.
It's like all our "I love yous" before were just practices for this exact moment.
Maybe it's the way we nearly lost everything. Maybe it's surviving when the odds were stacked against us. Or maybe it's just the miracle of our children's heartbeats echoing in the room.
Whatever it is, these three words carry more weight than all the others combined.
"I love you," I repeat, needing to feel the shape of those syllables again. My voice is still raspy from what Kristofer did to my throat, but I've never meant anything more in my life. "I love who we've become together."
Ruslan doesn't look away from my eyes as he leans forward. His lips brush against mine like a whispered promise, gentle enough not to hurt my battered body but firm enough to seal our vow.
The kiss deepens, not with passion but with something more profound—a recognition that we've faced our monsters and won. That whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
His hand cradles my face with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. I taste salt on his lips and realize he's crying. I am too.
When we finally break apart, Ruslan presses his forehead against mine, our tears mingling as we breathe the same air.
His hand finds mine and settles it over my belly, and that's when I feel a tiny familiar flutter as our children start moving again.