Chapter 20 – Samuel
The sterile, chemical stench of the hospital corridor burns the back of my throat.
I pace the length of the private waiting wing, my boots striking the linoleum floor in a steady, aggressive rhythm.
Outside, the world is dark, but inside, the fluorescent lights hum with a blinding, relentless intensity.
The quiet here is absolute, a heavy, suffocating contrast to the roaring engines and splintering wood of the docks just an hour ago.
My brothers stand like dark, silent sentinels against the pale walls.
Lukyan has his arm wrapped tightly around Sofia, his expression carved from stone, his gaze locked on the double doors leading to the pediatric intensive care unit.
Beside them, Sebastian leans against a pillar, his jaw clenched, slowly spinning his lighter—a silent, dangerous tic that tells me he is ready to burn this city to the ground on my command.
Timofey sits in the corner, his tablet glowing in his lap, his fingers flying across the screen as he coordinates the security perimeter around the hospital.
The Rusnak family is here. The entire line is drawn.
Lukyan has told them everything about my son, and they’re ready to protect him and Ashley with their lives.
But my eyes only focus on Ashley.
She sits on the edge of a plastic chair, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. Maya sits right beside her, a steady hand rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles, but Ashley is entirely unresponsive to the comfort.
She’s a statue of pure agony. Her silk robe is smudged with dirt and grease from the pier, and she looks so small, so devastatingly fragile in the harsh light.
Every protective, possessive instinct inside me screams to pull her into my lap, to force her to feel my warmth, but I keep my distance. I cannot offer her peace until I know our son is safe.
The heavy swing doors at the end of the hall finally click open.
The sound cuts through the silence like a gunshot. Instantly, the room shifts. I freeze. Lukyan steps forward. Sebastian pockets his lighter. Ashley snaps her head up, her eyes wide, bloodshot, and frantic with fear as she scrambles to her feet.
A doctor in blue scrubs walks toward us, pulling off his mask. His face is pale, clearly rattled by the sheer amount of heavily armed security guarding the wing, but his eyes are calm.
“Are you the parents of Ethan?” he asks, his gaze moving between Ashley and me.
“Yes,” I growl, stepping into his space, my massive frame towering over him. I don’t mean to intimidate him, but the raw, frantic desperation in my chest leaves no room for politeness. “Tell me he’s okay.”
“He is stable,” the doctor says quickly, recognizing the explosive tension in my voice.
A collective, ragged exhale ripples through the hallway.
Ashley lets out a broken, breathless sob, her knees buckling slightly.
I catch her by the elbow, pulling her flush against my side to keep her upright.
She clings to my forearm, her fingers digging through the fabric of my sleeve into my skin.
“What happened to him?” Ashley chokes out, her voice trembling. “Why was he unconscious?”
The doctor sighs, checking his chart. “We ran a full toxicology screen. His system contains traces of a fast-acting synthetic sedative—a concentrated derivative of GHB. It was administered to keep him quiet and compliant.”
My hand furls into a fist so tight my knuckles pop like firecrackers. They drugged my three-year-old boy.
“Is there any permanent damage?” I ask, my voice dropping to a low, deathly vibration.
“Fortunately, no,” the doctor reassures us, looking directly at Ashley.
“The dosage was calculated. It was not fatal. His vitals are steadying, and the sedative is already clearing his liver. He is sleeping naturally now, and we expect him to make a full recovery. We’re keeping him on an IV and monitoring his oxygen levels, but he should wake up within the next few hours. ”
“Can we see him?” Ashley begs, her eyes bright with fresh, desperate tears.
“Yes. But only the parents for now. He needs quiet.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I mutter.
The doctor nods and steps aside, gesturing toward the secure hallway.
The relief that floods through me is immediate, a massive wave that threatens to take my own breath away.
Our boy is alive. He’s going to recover.
But as I look down at Ashley, whose face is buried against my chest as she weeps in sheer, exhausting gratitude, the relief feels incredibly, terrifyingly fragile.
They poisoned my son. They used a chemical sedative on a toddler to play a sick, possessive game with us.
I look past Ashley’s head, my blue eyes locking with Lukyan and Sebastian. There is no triumph in their eyes, only a cold, shared understanding. The stalker is still out there. He bypassed our security, he took Ethan, and he left us a promise of more violence.
We got our son back, but the war has only just begun.
The nurse leads us into the private pediatric recovery room.
The harsh, sterile white of the corridor fades into a soft, dim twilight. Ethan looks incredibly small in the center of the oversized hospital bed, his pale face framed by the white sheets, a plastic cannula resting under his nose.
We wait in the quiet for another hour, the only sound the steady, comforting beep of the heart monitor. I stand by the window, my eyes constantly tracking the courtyard below where my men are positioned, while Ashley sits on the edge of the mattress, gently stroking Ethan’s small hand.
Then, his long eyelashes flutter.
Ethan lets out a tiny, sleepy yawn and opens his eyes. He blinks against the dim light, his gaze drifting around the room before landing on us.
“Mommy?” he whispers, his voice incredibly small and raspy.
Ashley’s composure breaks entirely. A choked sob escapes her lips as she leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her hands gently framing his face. “I’m here, baby. Mommy’s right here,” she weeps, her voice cracking with a raw, overwhelming relief.
Ethan’s small arms weakly reach up to wrap around her neck. “I had a bad dream. A man with a mask…”
“It’s okay, buddy.” I step forward, my shadow falling over the bed. I lean down, placing my large hand over both of theirs, feeling the warmth of my son’s skin. “The nightmare is over. I’m here. No one is ever going to hurt you again.”
Ethan looks up at me, a tiny, trusting smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You chased the bad monsters away?”
“Every single one of them,” I tell him, my voice thick with a sudden, violent wave of emotion.
Standing here, watching my son hold onto his mother, the absolute weight of the moment settles deep into my bones. The invisible wall that has stood between Ashley and me for four years cracks, the shared trauma and the miraculous relief binding us together in a way that cannot be undone.
My priorities shift, locking into place with a terrifying, absolute clarity. There’s no hesitation left in my mind. No doubt. No corporate boundaries or legal agreements.
Ashley and Ethan are central to everything I do now. They’re my blood, my family, and my entire world. Every ounce of my power, every dollar in my name, and every bullet in my gun exists solely to keep them breathing.
Once the nurses check his vitals again and Ethan drifts back into a deep, natural sleep, I turn my focus entirely to Ashley.
She looks completely spent, her eyes hollow, her hands still trembling as she stares at our sleeping son. I wrap my hand around her wrist, my grip firm but gentle, and pull her out of the room into the quiet, private corridor.
“Samuel, what is it?” she whispers, trying to pull her hand back, her defensive walls trying to rebuild themselves even in her exhaustion. “I need to be with him.”
“He’s sleeping, Ashley. Look at me,” I command, stepping close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes.
The time for negotiating is over. The time for letting her play house in her fragile, unprotected fortress is gone.
“This situation cannot continue,” I tell her, my voice low, flat, and laced with an unyielding certainty.
“The risks are too high. The threat is too real. This sick bastard bypassed your security, took our son, and nearly killed him. I’m not leaving your safety to chance anymore.
I’m not waiting for him to make another move. ”
“We’ll increase the security,” she argues weakly, her voice shaking. “We can hire more guards—”
“No,” I cut her off, my tone absolute. “Guards can be bought. Security can be breached. There’s only one way to ensure that you and Ethan are completely protected.
There’s only one way to wrap the entire, crushing weight of the Rusnak name around you so tightly that no one in this city will ever dare to look in your direction again. ”
I take a deep breath, my eyes locking onto hers with a dark, heavy resolution.
“We’re getting married.”
Ashley freezes, her breath catching in her throat. She stares at me as if I’ve just spoken in a foreign language. “What? Samuel, no—”
“It isn’t a suggestion, Ashley,” I say, my voice dropping to a gravelly, possessive register. “It’s a resolution. It’s happening.”
“You cannot just dictate my life!” she whispers fiercely, her eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate anger. “A forced marriage? To protect us? That’s insane!”
“It’s the only way,” I counter, refusing to back down even an inch.
“As my wife, you’re legally and physically bound to the Bratva.
Under our law, my brothers, my soldiers, and my resources are yours.
Anyone who touches you touches the entire family.
It gives us a shield that no court and no stalker can pierce. ”
I step even closer, my chest pressing against hers, trapping her against the hospital wall. I look down at her pale, beautiful face, and the cold, clinical reasoning in my head begins to blur with something far more volatile.
“But it isn’t just about the protection, Ashley,” I murmur, my hand coming up to gently cup her jaw, my thumb sweeping over her cheekbone.
I don’t know how to express feelings softly. I don’t know how to speak of love or gentleness—those things were burned out of me a long time ago. But the raw, suffocating fear I felt when I thought I had lost her and Ethan was a waking death.
“I’m not doing this just out of obligation,” I confess, my voice rough, carrying a dark, honest weight. “I care about you. I’ve always cared about you. You are mine, Ashley. You have been mine since that night in New York, and I’m not letting anyone take you from me. Not now. Not ever.”
The confession hangs heavily in the sterile, quiet air of the corridor, suffocating and absolute.
Ashley stares up at me, her chest heaving, completely paralyzed by the sheer force of my words.