Page 68 of Vendetta Crown

"I don't care," he says instantly. "As long as they're healthy."

"That's such a cop-out answer." I roll my eyes. "Come on, you must have a preference."

Ruslan considers this for a moment, his golden eyes thoughtful. "Maybe a girl. A little princess with your hazel eyes."

My heart flutters. "I was thinking a boy. With your height and that brooding scowl you do so well."

"I don't brood," he says, immediately brooding.

"Sure you don't." I laugh, leaning against his shoulder. "Or maybe twins. One of each."

"You really want to fit two people inside of you?"

Before I can retort, the massive oak doors swing open, and Daria leads in a small procession—Dr. Ivana Reyes at the front, followed by two nurses wheeling the ultrasound equipment.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dragunov," Dr. Reyes greets us with a professional smile. "Are we ready to hear your baby's heartbeat today?"

I respond with a nervous smile to Dr. Reyes. "Yes."

Daria leads us down the hallway to what was once a guest bedroom, now transformed into a makeshift examination room complete with medical equipment and a padded table.

"Please lie back and lift your shirt," Dr. Reyes instructs, her tone calm and methodical as the nurses position the ultrasound machine.

I do as she asks, the paper beneath me crinkling loudly in the quiet room. My heart hammers so hard I wonder if everyone can hear it. The cold gel touches my belly and I flinch, more from nerves than discomfort.

"Sorry," Dr. Reyes says. "Should have warned you it's cold."

Ruslan squeezes my hand, his tattooed fingers engulfing mine completely. I'm struck again by how gentle those lethal hands of his can be with me.

"Nervousness and excitement are two sides of the same coin,zarechka," he whispers, leaning close enough that I can smell his familiar scent of mahogany and cedarwood. "The only difference is how your mind interprets it."

His words settle something in me. He's right. This fluttering in my chest, this tightness in my throat.

They could just as easily be from the anticipation of joy.

"Now or never," I tell Dr. Reyes, forcing a confidence I don't entirely feel.

She nods and presses the wand against my abdomen, moving it slowly over the small bump that's only just beginning to show. The screen lights up with fuzzy gray shapes that mean nothing to my untrained eye.

And then we wait for the sound—the heartbeat they promised would be there.

Nothing comes.

The silence stretches, becoming a physical presence in the room. One second. Two. Three.

My chest tightens. My breathing stops. I grip Ruslan's hand so hard my knuckles turn white.

"I don't—" My voice cracks. "Why can't we hear anything?"

Dr. Reyes doesn't answer, her focus entirely on the screen as she adjusts knobs, moves the wand. The silence grows heavier with each passing moment, crushing the air from my lungs.

Seven years of being hunted. Seven years of living in fear. And in this moment, this absence of sound terrifies me more than Kristofer ever could.

"Please," I whisper, not sure who I'm begging. My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall. Not yet. Not until I know.

Then it happens.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

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