Page 46 of Savage Obsession

My blood runs cold. "They came through the fucking vent?" I growl, rage simmering beneath the surface. Leon nods grimly, his jaw set.

I slam my fist against the nearest wall. "Find out who the hell had access to the blueprints of that venue. I want names, Leon. Every single person who so much as looked at those plans."

Before Leon can respond, a hesitant knock sounds at the door. One of the doctors steps inside, his expression tense. My gut twists. I don’t like that look.

"Mr. Vasilios," he begins cautiously. "There's something else we need to discuss…..umm maybe privately?"

I brace myself. "Spit it out."

The doctor takes a breath, his gaze flicking between me and my father. "Some of the other results that came back earlier showed a high level of HCG your wife... she was pregnant."

"Was?"

He nods nervously. "The blood sample we took an hour ago showed a drop in HCG of about twenty-five percent. I'm sorry, but she lost the baby due to the poisoning."

Everything inside me stops. The room tilts. My heart pounds so violently it drowns out the rest of his words.

Pregnant?

I feel like the floor has just been ripped out from under me. I grip the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turn white. The wallsclose in, suffocating me, but the only thing I can think about is Yelena lying unconscious, our child gone before I even knew it existed.

Leon exhales sharply beside me, but I can’t look at him. Can’t look at anyone. My mind is a roaring storm, my body stiff with barely contained sorrow. An emotion I haven't felt in over ten years.

A child. Our child. Another of my child gone before it even had the chance to register its presence.

I turn away from the doctor, breathing hard, trying to control the rage threatening to consume me. "Whoever did this," I grind out, my voice dangerously low, "must pay."

Leon nods once, his face just as dark as mine. "We’ll find them."

22

Aithan

The tension in the hospital room is thick enough to cut with a blade. Viktor Makarov stands with his arms crossed, his cold blue eyes locked onto me like he’s assessing a target. His two right-hand men, both towering walls of muscle with expressions carved from stone, flank him, ready to react at the slightest provocation. His wife, Scarlett, sits beside Yelena’s bed, gripping her hand tightly, while Yelena’s twin sister, Alina, paces the room, her face a mask of worry and controlled fury.

I can feel the animosity radiating off them. They don’t trust me. They don’t trust that I can protect her. Hell, they look like they are suspecting me.

Viktor’s voice is calm but firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. “We’re taking her back to New York.”

I don’t react right away. Instead, I exhale slowly, my fists clenching at my sides. I knew this was coming. The Bratva doesn’t take chances when it comes to their own, and Yelena isn’t just anyone—she’s their princess, the bloodline of their empire. But she’s also my wife.

“No.”

My refusal is final. The single word echoes through the room, laced with a quiet warning.

Viktor’s jaw tightens. “You’re not in a position to refuse, Vasilios.”

“She’s my wife,” I say, my voice low, lethal. “Her protection is my responsibility. She stays here, where I can watch over her.”

Scarlett looks up, her gaze softer, but no less determined. “This isn’t about who she belongs to. This is about what’s best for her. Where she will be safer.”

I shift my gaze to Yelena. She looks so fragile, so unlike the fiery woman who constantly challenges me. Tubes and wires connect her to machines, monitoring her every breath. The venom took its toll, but the doctors say she’ll recover. She just needs time.

Viktor steps closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “She was poisoned under your watch. You couldn’t protect her, and now you expect me to trust you?”

A sharp pang of guilt slices through me, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I straighten my shoulders, stepping into his space, meeting him head-on. “You think moving her while she’s still in critical condition is protecting her?” I sneer. “The doctors say she needs to stay under observation. If you force this, you could kill her.”

His nostrils flare, and for a second, I think he’s going to throw a punch. The air is charged, waiting for someone to make the first move. His men shift, anticipating violence. So do mine.

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