His fingers twitch slightly in mine. Maybe intentional. Maybe reflex.
"Mila's here. She wants to see you. And the baby is fine. We're both fine because you saved us. You threw yourself in front of that bullet and saved us both."
A nurse appears. "Time's up. He needs rest."
I lean down. Kiss his forehead. "I love you. Come back to us. Please come back."
Outside, I let Mila see him for her five minutes. Watch her small hand hold his large one. Watch her whisper things I can't hear.
When she emerges, she's crying. "Papa looks broken."
"He is broken. But he'll heal." I pull her close. "Your papa is the strongest man I know. He'll come back to us."
We camp in the waiting room. Refusing to leave. Refusing to go home to the destroyed estate.
Mikhail brings food we don't eat. Coffee that goes cold. Updates from the cleanup.
Patrick is dead. Confirmed. His entire operation dismantled. The threat is over.
But Lev is still fighting for his life.
And all I can do is wait.
Wait and pray and hope that love is strong enough to bring him back from the edge.
That our family survives this final test.
That the man who saved me, who loved me despite my betrayal, who threw himself in front of a bullet to protect our baby survives to meet that baby.
The machines beep steadily in the ICU.
Forty-eight hours to know if he lives or dies.
Forty-eight hours of hell.
And all I can do is wait.
Chapter thirty
Lev
Pain wakes me.
Sharp, burning pain radiating from my chest, my shoulder, my ribs. Every breath feels like broken glass grinding against raw nerves.
I try to move. Can't. Something is restraining me.
No. Not restraints. Tubes. Wires. Medical equipment.
Hospital.
Memory crashes back. Patrick. The fight. Gunshot wounds. Valerie's face as I threw myself in front of her.
Valerie.
My eyes fly open. Bright lights. Sterile ceiling. The steady beep of monitors.
And there, slumped in an uncomfortable chair beside my bed, is Valerie.