Page 83 of Fatal Sloth

The young doctor stands before me, his eyes wide with fear, his words stumbling out in a jumble of nerves. Sweat beads on his forehead, his whole-body trembles, as if he’s on the verge of collapsing. "Um, sir..." he begins, his voice wavering, "Um..." A palpable tension wraps around us like a blanket as he stammers to answer.

The poor guy looks like he's about to piss his pants right then and there, the fear in his eyes mirroring the desperation in his voice.

Mia's eyes widen in fear and maybe a little embarrassment. Her fingers dig into my hand, pleading for me to stop. "Bash, no," she gasps. "He can't focus with a gun pointed at him."

My heart wars with my brain, torn between Mia’s request and dealing with this fucker.

Slowly, I lower the gun, my muscles still tense. "Don't you dare lay a fucking finger on her," I seethe. "Get Dr. Harlow in here and get the hell out."

Without waiting for a response, the doctor scurries out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, and Dr. Harlow walks into the room shortly after. Her face contorts into a scowl as she chastises me for scaring Dr. Hawke, who happens to be the anesthesiologist sent to administer Mia's epidural.

Mia slaps my arm, her eyes flashing with frustration as I bolt out of the room in search of the anesthesiologist. I track down Dr. Hawke in another room, his eyes widening in fear as I drag him back. "Mia Morelli is next," I bark at him and practically shove him into the room.

The poor guy looks like he just saw a ghost. Which is fine by me, because he’s about to meet Jesus if he doesn’t help my wife.

"You help her first, then you can go help the other patient," I tell him firmly, and Mia shoots him an apologetic glance before another contraction hits her.

Dr. Hawke is preparing to administer the epidural when I notice his hands trembling. "Stop shaking," I growl sharply, standing over him. "I won't hesitate to hurt you if you hurt her. Understand, Dr. Hawke?"

Dr. Hawke begins the procedure, his voice shaking. "If you could just give me a little space," he stammers.

With one last glare of warning, I step aside to stand in front of Mai, my heart racing as I watch the doctor over her shoulder.

Not long after she gets the epidural, labor progresses quickly and Mia is ready to start pushing.

Each agonizing moment feels like an eternity, but then, finally, I hear it—the piercing cry of our baby. Our baby boy, Nikolai Antonio Morelli.

Epilogue 2

A year later

Mia

Cameron and Brad stride through the front door. I can't help but smile at the couple. Nikolai's first birthday is just around the corner, and Cameron has taken it upon himself to ensure it's a celebration to remember. Despite my initial impression of Brad as a passing fling, it's clear now that he's become a permanent fixture in Cameron's life.

They've been together since the Diavolo incident, surprising everyone, including Cameron himself, who once swore he'd never settle down with just one person. But I suppose love has a way of changing even the most stubborn of hearts.

Cameron sweeps Nikolai into his arms as my little one toddles toward him, greeting him with laughter and squeals of delight.

"Hello, my little Leoncino," Cameron coos and tickles Nikolai's belly, causing giggles to erupt from him. "Are you giving Mommy hell today?"

"He's always a handful," I joke, giving Brad, who remains stoic by the door, a reminder of his loyalty to Sebastiano, a playful nudge. "But he's worth every bit of it."

Despite my reassurances, Brad maintains his position, always ready to spring into action if needed, just like he does at the club.

Marie enters with a tray of snacks. "Let me take him off your hands. It’s almost naptime," she says, gently taking Nikolai from Cameron's hold. "You two focus on planning the party."

With Nikolai settled for his nap, we turn our attention to finalizing plans for his birthday celebration.

"So, jungle theme, huh?" Cameron says with a grin.

Since the day he was born, Bash has called him "Leoncino," and the nickname has stuck. So, it's a no-brainer that we have a jungle-theme party. It's the perfect way to celebrate our little lion's first year of life.

"We'll need plenty of vines, maybe even a fake lion or two," Cameron suggests.

I laugh and nod in agreement. "Definitely. And maybe some animal masks for the kids to wear. It'll be a wild time."

We brainstorm ideas, and even Brad chimes in with his own input, surprising us with his creative ideas. It's moments like these, surrounded by loved ones, that make me grateful for the unconventional family we've built together. I guess it's true that blood doesn't make you family.

---