Page 52 of The Enforcer's Vow


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I want to stay and watch over Zoya, but I know better than to argue with Valya when she's working. I leave the room and close the door behind me, then begin pacing the hallway with restless energy.

Rolan appears with a glass of vodka, but I wave him away because I can't drink or sit still while the woman I love fights for her life on the other side of that door. The realization of what shemeans to me hits with devastating clarity now that I might lose her.

My men report in one by one with the aftermath of the operation. No casualties on our side, five dead among the Karpin soldiers, and the warehouse completely destroyed. We recovered the camera equipment and several phones that might contain useful information about their operations.

I don't care about any of it because all I can think about is Zoya.

An hour passes, then two, while I pace the hallway and listen to the quiet sounds of Valya working through the closed door. Medical equipment beeping, the rustle of sheets, whispered instructions to herself as she monitors Zoya's condition.

Valya emerges from the room with a serious expression, closing the door carefully behind her before she looks at me. "There's a complication," she says.

My stomach drops, and I prepare myself for the worst possible news. "What kind of complication?"

"She's pregnant. About five weeks, I'd estimate. The smoke inhalation stressed her system, and her vitals aren't stable. I'm worried about both her and the baby."

The words feel crippling, making my legs feel weak. Pregnant with my child, and I might lose both of them because of the war I've been fighting. The possibility floods through me with devastating clarity.

"Will she be okay?"

"I don't know. The next few hours are critical. Her oxygen levels are improving, but slowly, and the stress on her body from the smoke and the kidnapping..." Valya shakes her head. "I'm doing everything I can."

She returns to the room, leaving me alone in the hallway with the knowledge that I might lose everything that has come to mean the world to me. Five weeks pregnant means she'sbeen carrying my child since before we were even married, since before I fully understood what she meant to me.

I think about the men who took her, who locked her in that room and left her to die in the fire that was meant to kill us both. Karpin ordered this operation, used her as bait to draw me out and eliminate a problem. But it was Damir who made her a target in the first place with his drugs and his choices and his betrayal of the family.

Both of them will pay for this, but right now, all I can do is wait and pray that the two people who have become my entire world survive the night. I slide down the wall and sit on the floor outside her door, where I can hear the quiet sounds of Valya working and know that I'm as close to them as I can be.

The estate is quiet around me, my men keeping their distance because they know better than to disturb me when I'm this close to the edge. Through the door, I focus on those medical sounds and try not to think about what I'll do if I lose them both.

I'm not going anywhere until I know they're safe, until I can see Zoya's eyes open and know that she's going to be okay. Until then, I wait.

21

ZOYA

Iwake to the steady rhythm of machines and the antiseptic smell of a medical facility. My throat feels raw, each breath scraping against tissue touched by that smoke and my screams of fear. The ceiling above me is white and clean, unmarked by the chaos I escaped. When I turn my head, I see Maksim in a chair beside the bed, his dark hair disheveled and streaked with ash. Soot marks his angular face, and his shirt is torn at the shoulder. His hazel eyes are fixed on our joined hands, his thumb moving in small circles across my knuckles.

The medic finishes checking my IV line and makes notes on a chart. She's a middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled back severely. "The smoke inhalation was moderate," she says to Maksim, not to me. "Her lungs are clear now, but she'll need to take it easy for a few days. No strenuous activity."

Maksim nods once, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. The medic glances between us, then gathers her supplies. "I'll be back to check on you in an hour," she tells me, finally addressing me directly. "Press the call button if you need anything before then."

The door closes behind her with a soft click, and we are alone. The machines continue their steady beeping, but the sound feels distant now, muffled by the tension that fills the room. Maksim releases my hand and leans back in his chair. The movement reveals more of the damage—burns on his forearms, a cut across his jaw, exhaustion etched deep in the lines around his eyes.

"You came for me," I say, my voice hoarse. The words come out as almost a whisper.

He doesn't look at me. "I had orders."

The response stings, but I push past it. It doesn't appear that I was saved as the result of an order. When I saw him walk into that room, he didn't look like he was following orders. "Thank you. I know you didn't have to?—"

"When were you going to tell me?" His voice cuts through my attempt at gratitude.

I blink, confused. "Tell you what?"

Now he looks at me, and his expression grows darker. "About the baby."

The words hit me with startling clarity. I remember the medic's examination, the questions about my last period, the blood tests she ran while I was still groggy from the smoke. My hand moves instinctively to my abdomen, and I see his eyes follow the movement.

"I wasn't sure," I say, which is partly true. I had that test that was so faint, but I hadn't confirmed it with another. I hadn't wanted to confirm it.