Page 25 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

The doctor enters a moment later, a tall man with graying hair and a sharp, professional demeanor. His eyes flick to Andrei, and he nods in recognition.

“Miss Fox,” he says, addressing me directly. “I’m Dr. Ivanov. Please, take a seat.”

I lower myself into the chair, my fingers gripping the armrests as the nurse prepares the necessary equipment.

Blood tests, urine samples, and a physical exam—it’s thorough, invasive, and utterly humiliating with Andrei standing by the door, his arms crossed like a sentinel.

The tests blur together in my mind, each one dragging me closer to an answer I already know but can’t bring myself to confront.

When it’s over, I’m led back to the waiting area, the sterile smell of the clinic clinging to my clothes. Andrei remains silent, his gaze steady as I sit stiffly in one of the chairs, my hands clenched in my lap.

Dr. Ivanov reappears after what feels like an eternity, a sealed envelope in his hand. He glances at me, then at Andrei, his expression neutral.

“The results are here,” he says simply, holding out the envelope.

I shake my head quickly, my voice trembling as I speak. “Don’t—don’t say it out loud.”

Dr. Ivanov hesitates, then nods, setting the envelope on the table in front of me.

My heart races as I stare at it, the weight of its contents pressing down on me like a physical force. I already know what it says. I’ve known for weeks, ever since the first wave of nausea hit, but seeing it spelled out in black and white feels like a finality I’m not ready to face.

“You can open it whenever you’re ready,” Dr. Ivanov says gently.

I nod, but I don’t move, my hands trembling in my lap.

Andrei steps forward, picking up the envelope with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not going to look?”

“Not yet,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He stares at me for a moment, then shrugs. “Fine. She’ll look when she’s ready, but she already knows what it says.”

Dr. Ivanov nods and tucks the envelope into a folder, his professionalism unwavering. “Very well. If there’s anything else—”

“That’s all,” Andrei cuts him off. “We’re leaving.”

I rise to my feet shakily, following them back through the hallway and out to the waiting SUV, one of Makar’s men leaning against it, his expression unreadable. The air feels heavier now, every step dragging me closer to a reality I’m not ready to accept.

The envelope sits heavily in my hand, though I haven’t dared to open it yet. Every nerve in my body feels frayed, my mind racing with a single thought:I need to get out of here.

This is my chance. We’re outside. Public. Even though there are few people around, the clinic is still in the city. Someone will help me. They have to.

My pulse quickens as my eyes dart around, scanning the parking lot. A nurse steps outside for a cigarette break, a man in a crisp suit opens the trunk of a sleek black car, and a woman with a toddler heads toward the clinic’s entrance.

I can do this.

My heart pounds as I glance at Andrei, who has stopped near the SUV to exchange a few words with the man waiting there. His back is to me, his attention momentarily elsewhere.

Now.

I take a deep breath and run.

The sound of my heels against the pavement feels impossibly loud, and I grit my teeth, pushing myself faster. My legs burn, my chest tightens, but adrenaline propels me forward.

“Hey!” Andrei’s voice rings out behind me, sharp and furious.

I don’t look back. I can’t. My eyes lock on the clinic’s entrance, where the nurse glances up from her cigarette, startled.

“Help me!” I scream, the desperation in my voice raw and unfiltered. “Please, he’s kidnapping me!”

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