Chapter 30
Maksim
The hospital is chaos when we arrive. Cars and ambulances that I know are from the chaos we just left. Enemies. This has the potential to turn ugly.
“Semyon,” I say.
“I see them. Hospital is neutral territory.”
“When has that ever stopped anyone.”
Anya screeches to a stop outside the emergency entrance behind the car carrying their father. Suddenly we're swarmed. Nurses. Orderlies. Someone shouts about gunshot wounds and smoke inhalation.
Kira hops out of the backseat and grabs one of the nurses. I can hear her yelling and gesturing to me.
The door opens and Kira is there pulling me out of the back.
They try to separate me from Kira immediately. A doctor grabs my arm, attempting to steer me toward a trauma room.
"No." I pull away, stumbling slightly. "I stay with her."
"Sir, you're bleeding—"
"I'm fine." The lie tastes bitter, but I need to stay with Kira. Need to make sure she and the baby are okay. "The bleeding stopped. I'm not dying."
The doctor looks like he wants to argue, but another stretcher crashes through the doors. Kira's father. He looks worse than I remember. I think he’s dead.
Fuck.
All of that for nothing.
"Critical patient!" someone shouts pushing in another gurney. "GSW to the abdomen, possible internal bleeding!"
I recognize the guy as one Roman’s little soldiers.
He’s not going to make it.
The staff knows it. I see it in their faces as they turn their attention to Nikolai.
Medical staff converge on him like ants. Kira and Anya try to follow, but a nurse blocks their path.
"We’re taking him into the trauma room," she says firmly.
"We’re family!" Anya's voice rises. "That's our father!"
"I understand, but you need to wait here. The doctors need space to work."
Kira looks ready to fight. I see her hands curl into fists, that familiar stubborn set to her jaw.
"Let them do their job," I tell her quietly. "They'll save him if they can."
She turns those blue eyes on me. I see the war playing out behind them. The need to control versus the need to trust.
Finally, she nods. "Fine. But the second they're done; I want to see him."
"Of course." The nurse's expression softens. "There's a waiting area just down the hall. We'll update you as soon as we know anything."
They wheel Kira's father through swinging doors that slam shut with finality. The sudden absence of crisis leaves us standing in the harsh fluorescent light, covered in blood and soot.
"You should sit down," Kira says, studying my face. "You look pale."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding through your pants."
I glance down. She's right. Blood stains my thigh where Roman's bullet tore through muscle. The makeshift tourniquet helped, but it's not a permanent solution.
"It can wait," I say stubbornly.
"Maksim—"
“My leg can wait ten minutes."
It’s a lot longer than ten minutes. The sound of beeping and crying and chaos echoes all around us. Semyon has checked in a couple of times, but he’s trying to figure out who lived and who died. Cops are everywhere. Thankfully, we’re left alone. It’s like the world forgot we were even there.
That’s a good thing. I don’t know who might be on Roman’s payroll. I know my father had a pretty good hold on the local police, but I have no idea if that relationship extends to me. There are going to be questions.
Semyon appears in the doorway, his face a mask of irritation despite the blood still caked on his temple. "You haven't been seen yet?"
"Couldn't get seen if I wanted to." I gesture at the chaos around us. "Place is packed. I'm not bleeding out. My injury is minor compared to half the people here."
He crosses his arms, looking unconvinced. "You were shot. Again."
"Flesh wound. The bullet went through." I shift my weight, trying not to wince. "I've had worse."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?" I'm getting irritated now. My leg throbs. My shoulder aches. Every breath tastes like smoke. "We've got bigger problems than my leg."
His expression shifts slightly. "Speaking of which—I've got the police situation handled."
I raise an eyebrow. "That was fast."
"Roman's men, the few that made it out alive, aren't going to be a problem." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "They're in critical condition. Very critical."
I understand immediately. "You have friends on staff."
"Several." He glances over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one's listening. "They'll die of their injuries. Tragic, really. Such a devastating explosion."
The coldness of it should bother me more than it does. But I'm too tired and too focused on keeping Kira safe to care about Roman's soldiers getting what they deserve.
"What about Roman himself?" I ask quietly. "Did he make it out?"
"No body yet. But the building's still too hot to search properly. Could be buried in the rubble." Semyon's jaw tightens. "Or he could have escaped before the main collapse."
"He was there. I saw him. Shot me in the leg and ran." The memory makes my blood boil. "Coward triggered the explosives and left his own men to die."
"Sounds like Roman." Semyon runs a hand through his hair, dislodging ash. "We'll know more in a few hours. I've got people watching the site, monitoring police radios. If they pull him out, we'll hear about it."
"And if they don't?"
"Then we assume he's alive until proven otherwise." His eyes meet mine. "Which means this isn't over."
I already knew that. He had an exit strategy. He always does.
"How many did we lose?" I force myself to ask.
"Four confirmed dead. Three more critical." His voice goes flat. "Leo didn't make it."
Leo, who'd survived four decades in the bratva and pledged his loyalty to me just days ago. Dead because I led him into a trap.
"Fuck." The word comes out hollow.
"He knew the risks. I need to take care of a few things. Get your ass in a room. We didn’t go through all of that to have you die in a waiting room.”
“I will,” I tell him.
Semyon leaves and were left waiting for another thirty minutes.
A doctor steps into the room, tablet in hand. He looks as exhausted as I feel. "Are you family of Nikolai Markov?"
"Yes," Kira answers. "He's our father. What's his condition?"
"Critical but stable for now. He has multiple broken ribs, and significant internal bleeding. Concussion. We're taking him into surgery immediately." He pauses and I know what’s coming. "I need to be honest with you—the next few hours are crucial. It's going to be rough."
"But he'll survive?" Anya's voice trembles.
"We're going to do everything we can." It's not the reassurance we want, but it's all he can give. "A nurse will come get you when we have updates. The next twenty-four hours will tell us more. The head injury—well, we don’t know how bad it is. There’s a lot of swelling."
He disappears through the same doors that swallowed Kira's father.
"Maksim." Kira's hand finds mine. "You need to get checked out. Please."
"After you."
"I'm fine."
"You're pregnant and went through something traumatic."
"Which is exactly why you need to be functional." Her grip tightens. "I need you alive and healthy. Our baby needs you. So stop being stubborn and let a doctor look at that leg."
Anya leans forward. "She's right. And while you're getting checked out, we'll make sure Kira sees an OB. Make sure the baby is okay."
"Okay," I concede. "But I'm not leaving this floor. The second you go into an exam room; I want to be there."
"Deal."
A nurse appears—different from before, older, with kind eyes. "Are any of you injured?"
"He is." Kira points at me. "Gunshot wound to the leg."
"And she is," I add. "Pregnant. Needs to be checked out. Smoke inhalation."
The nurse's eyebrows rise slightly, but she doesn't comment on our condition. Working ER in Moscow, she's probably seen worse.
"Let's get you both looked at," she says. "Follow me."
We're led to an exam room. I follow Kira. She glares at me.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to make sure you’re okay,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re so stubborn.”
The nurse doesn’t look any happier with me but says nothing.
Kira sits on the exam table.
A doctor enters maybe ten minutes later. She introduces herself and immediately starts asking questions. I can tell she’s in a rush, which pisses me off. She needs to be focused on my woman. My baby.
"How far along are you?"
"About six weeks," Kira answers.
"Any bleeding? Cramping?"
"No bleeding. Some cramping earlier, but I think that was stress."
"Any previous pregnancies?"
"No."
The doctor nods, making notes on her tablet. "And you were exposed to smoke? Any trouble breathing?"
"A little. My throat burns, but I can breathe fine."
I watch the doctor examine Kira. Checking her vitals, listening to her lungs, touching her belly. Each touch makes me tense, waiting for something to be wrong.
"Everything seems normal," the doctor says finally. "But given the trauma and smoke exposure, I want to do an ultrasound."
"Okay." Kira's hand finds mine, squeezing tight.
A nurse wheels in the ultrasound machine—a bulky thing with a screen and various attachments. My stomach twists. This is real now. We're about to see our child.
Or find out we lost them.
"Lie back," the doctor instructs, pulling up Kira's shirt to expose her stomach. "This gel is going to be cold."
Kira flinches when the gel touches her skin. I squeeze her hand, wishing I could take away her fear. Wishing I could guarantee everything will be okay.
But I can't. I've learned the hard way that I can't protect the people I love from everything.
The doctor presses the transducer against Kira's abdomen, moving it slowly. The screen shows nothing but grainy static to my untrained eyes.
"There," the doctor says, angling the screen toward us. "See that?"
I lean forward, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.
"So the baby's okay?" I have to hear the words.
I watch the doctor. She’s gone silent. The wand still moving over her belly.
“Doctor?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
I don’t know how I’ll handle bad news. I thought I was prepared, but I’m not. I stand, holding onto Kira’s hand.
"Babies," the OB corrects gently.
The word doesn't register at first. I hear it, but it doesn't make sense.
"What?"
"Babies," she repeats, smiling now. "Plural. You're having twins."
I grab the edge of the exam table to keep from falling. I’m suddenly really fucking dizzy.
"Twins?" The word comes out strangled. "As in... two?"
"That's generally what twins means, yes." The OB's smile widens. "Would you like to see?"
She doesn't wait for an answer. Just turns the ultrasound screen toward us.
And there they are.
Two tiny blobs. But the blobs aren’t what I’m looking at. It’s the two heartbeats flickering on the monitor like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Oh my God," I breathe.
My legs give out. I drop into the chair beside the exam table.
"Two babies," Kira whispers. Her hand tightens in mine. "Maksim, we're having twins."
"I can see that." I can't look away from the screen.
"Twins run in families sometimes, but they can also happen spontaneously,” the doctor is saying. B
Two babies. Two lives depending on me to keep them safe.
The magnitude of it crashes over me like a wave. Not just one child to protect. Two.
"Are they okay?" I manage to ask. "After everything tonight.”
"Perfectly healthy," the OB assures me. "Both heartbeats are strong. No signs of distress. The placenta is protecting them well."
Relief floods through me so intensely I feel dizzy again.
"You're sure?"
"Positive." She prints out images from the ultrasound, handing them to Kira. "I want to see you back in two weeks for a follow-up. And try to avoid burning buildings for the rest of the pregnancy."
There's humor in her voice but also concern. She knows something happened tonight. Knows we're not normal expectant parents.
"We'll try," Kira says.
The OB leaves, and suddenly we're alone with the ultrasound images. Two tiny shapes that will become our children.
"Twins," I say again, testing the word. "We're having twins."
"Are you okay?" Kira studies my face. "You look pale."
"I'm—" I stop. “I think. I love you, but I’m going to pass out.”
“Nurse!” Kira calls out even as my world starts to fade.
I pushed it too far.
Whoops. I’m going down.