Page 72 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

Please let Dariya be okay.

She was alive when we made it to the hospital. They rushed her away immediately with Fyodor by her side, who fought off all attempts by doctors to get his own wounds treated. He didn’t care that he’d been shot and likely didn’t even feel the pain.

Nothing could compare to holding his daughter in his arms while she bled out like that.

Cotton fills my mouth while the shoot-out plays over and over in my mind. How such carnage can happen so quickly is beyond me, and my pregnancy is so far from my mind that I’ve almost forgotten.

Daniil stands by the door, a rigid statue staring out into the hallway. Occasionally, he glances back into the waiting room, but his expression is unreadable behind those glasses. I suspect it’s the same shock and horror on the faces of every other guard seated here with me.

They’ve all received various forms of treatment. I was seen to as well, but other than a few gravel scrapes, I’m completely fine.

Heartbroken, but fine.

Again, the scene replays in my mind and a cold shiver crawls slowly down my spine, blooming at my tailbone. The tingles make me shift in my seat and as soon as I move, the plastic chair creaks. Every eye is on me, immediately and the cold shiver is replaced with a hot flush.

“Sorry.”

Everyone is on edge. Understandable.

Who would do such a terrible thing? With a child present. I want to ask Daniil but at the same time, I think I already know the answer.

The one man who seems to have it out for everyone, if Zasha’s experience is anything to go by. He’s the culprit, surely?

Restlessness has me rising, ignoring all the looks from the others. I pace up and down the side wall to distract myself. The movement helps ease the itch in my limbs, but it does nothing to calm the frantic pace of my mind.

What will happen if Dariya doesn’t make it? What will happen if she does?

I can hear my mother in the back of my mind, scolding me with an I told you so. These men, this life. It’s all death and pain. All destruction and anger until they kill each other off.

I hope, harder than I’ve ever hoped for anything, that Dariya will make it.

She has to.

Eventually, the pull at my bladder brings me to the door where I attempt to slide past Daniil. His hand latches onto my arm immediately and he tilts his head down.

I wish I could see his eyes to know what he was feeling.

“No one leaves.” His voice is hard. Cold. It doesn’t sound like him at all and my stomach twists.

“Well,” I say softly, my throat pulling from under-use these past few hours. “Unless you want me to piss in the waste basket, you’re gonna have to let me go to the bathroom.”

Daniil’s mouth twists as if he’s really contemplating making me go to the bathroom here, in front of everyone, just to keep an eye on me. I stick my head out the door and peer past his shoulder.

“Look, the bathroom is right there. You can see it from here and you can watch me all the way down. I’ll even prop the door open and piss as loudly as I can.”

Any other day, that would have made him smile. Not today.

Today is a cold day.

“Fine.”

He releases me and his lingering palm print burns into my arm.

“Make it quick.”

I understand his cold demeanor. He’s hurting. He likely blames himself for not being there. But as I hurry down to the bathroom, my chest aches for a different reason. I want to be held and comforted, told this is all going to be okay even if it’s a lie. Just for a little while.

Or I want to be strong enough to provide that comfort for them.

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