Page 79 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she says, sticking out her tongue.

“Who said I was flattering you?” I counter, raising an eyebrow.

Her laughter fills the room again, and for a moment, everything feels lighter—easier. She leans back against the pillows, her hand still resting on her belly, and I find myself watching her again.

“You’re taking to this,” I say quietly, gesturing to her belly. “Motherhood. You haven’t even had the baby yet, and you’re already… good at it.”

She looks at me, her expression softening. “It’s easy to feel that way when you love someone so much,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.

The honesty in her words stirs something deep in my chest, and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You’re incredible.”

My lips brush against her forehead before trailing down to the curve of her belly, where I press a kiss to the taut skin. The baby moves beneath my hand, another strong kick making me smirk.

“You’re already causing trouble,” I murmur, my tone soft but teasing as I trace gentle circles over her stomach.

Then Hannah gasps sharply, her entire body tensing.

I sit up immediately, my heart lurching. “What? What’s wrong?”

She clutches the sheets, her face tightening with pain. “I—I don’t know. It feels… different. Like—oh God—like something’s starting.”

It takes me half a second to register the meaning of her words. My pulse spikes, and I grab my phone from the nightstand, dialing Andrei without hesitation.

“She’s going into labor,” I bark as soon as he picks up. “Call the hospital. Tell them she’s coming now.”

Andrei doesn’t question me, simply grunting an acknowledgment before hanging up. I turn back to Hannah, who’s gripping the edge of the mattress, her breaths shallow and fast.

“An ambulance,” I say, already dialing again.

Her eyes widen. “No, Makar, it’s fine. We can just—”

“No,” I cut her off firmly, my voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re not walking out of this house. You’re not sitting in the back of some car. You’re going in an ambulance with medics, and you’ll be seen immediately.”

She hesitates, her breathing uneven as another wave of pain crosses her face. Finally, she nods, her hand reaching for mine.

The ambulance arrives within minutes, its lights casting a harsh glow over the driveway as the medics rush inside. I don’t let go of Hannah’s hand as they check her vitals, their calm professionalism doing little to ease the tight knot of fear in my chest.

“She’s stable,” one of the medics says, glancing at me. “But we need to get her to the hospital now.”

“I’m coming with her,” I say immediately, my tone brooking no argument.

The medic nods, and we’re moving. The cool night air bites at my skin as we step outside, the stretcher carrying Hannah to the waiting vehicle. I climb in after her, squeezing into the cramped space as the doors slam shut.

The ride is a blur of flashing lights and muted voices, the steady beep of monitors punctuating the silence. Hannah grips my hand tightly, her knuckles white as another contraction ripples through her.

“It’s too much,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “It’s too fast—”

“You’re strong,” I tell her, my voice steady even though my heart is racing. “You can handle this. You’re not doing it alone.”

Her gaze meets mine, tears glistening in her eyes, and I squeeze her hand again, letting her feel the strength in my grip.

When we arrive at the hospital, the medics wheel her inside, the bright fluorescent lights and antiseptic smell a jarring contrast to the quiet of the night. I bark instructions to a nurse as we enter.

“I want her usual doctor,” I say, my tone sharp. “Bring him here now.”

“Yes, Mr. Sharov,” she says quickly, hurrying away.

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