Page 70 of Sold to the Bratva
Isaac isn’t here. I don’t know where he is or if he’s even alive. The thought spins through my head on a merciless loop, stealing every scrap of air from my lungs.
He has to be okay. I can’t do this without him.
It’s not just the labor I’m afraid of, it’s everything that comes after. I can’t raise our baby alone. I don’t want to. I don’t want to imagine a world he’s not in.
“Katya,” Maude says softly, placing a cool cloth against my forehead. “Breathe. You’re doing beautifully.”
“I can’t do this without him,” I sob, panic cracking my voice. “What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt? What if he doesn’t make it?”
“Shh.” Maude smooths the sweaty strands from my forehead. “You know that man. He would walk through fire to get to you, and he will. He will be here.”
“You don’t know that, Maude,” I protest. “Mikhail hasn’t texted you back. We have no idea if either of them is okay, no idea what’s happened at our home. For all we know, everyone could be dead.”
My breathing turns ragged as panic swallows me whole.
“Katya.” Maude lays her hand over mine, firm and steady. “This stress isn’t good for the baby. I know you’re terrified, but picturing the worst will only make everything hurt more. And the baby will feel your stress.”
A single tear slips down my cheek. I manage a shaky nod, too choked up to speak.
Another contraction slams into me, tight and merciless, as though my insides are tearing themselves apart. I cry out, and Maude squeezes my hand, her voice a distant lullaby I barely register.
Time blurs. A nurse brings me ice chips, and the doctor checks my dilation. Almost time, she says. This baby is coming fast.
I nod again, barely able to comprehend. Isaac isn’t here. My vision tunnels.
“Katya,” Maude says quietly, squeezing my hand. “Did you hear what the doctor said? You’re at nine centimeters. You’re going to have to start pushing soon.”
“He won’t make it,” I cry. “I don’t want to do this alone.”
“You aren’t alone,” she answers gently. “I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere until Isaac shows up. He’s going to show up.”
“Ten centimeters,” the doctor says. “It’s time to start pushing.”
“No, wait,” I choke out, my heart stuttering in my chest. “My husband isn’t here yet. Please, just wait, just a little longer…”
“They can’t, sweetheart,” Maude says gently, brushing another tear from my cheek. “The baby’s coming now. You need to focus. For you. For the baby.”
I tremble from crown to heel. I drag in a breath that never feels full and bear down. Pain ripples outward until my vision blurs. Then, just when I swear the world is collapsing inward, the door bursts open.
My head snaps toward the commotion, breath snagging in my throat. I swipe away tears to be sure I’m not hallucinating. Isaac is really there, chest heaving, eyes locked on me.
He’s a wreck. Blood streaks his shirt, a bruise blooming under one eye. His jacket hangs half-buttoned, hair wild, knuckles crusted with dirt and dried blood, but he’s here. Every muscle in my body shudders with relief.
“Isaac,” I sob, collapsing back into the pillows as the tears come fast and hard.
He rushes to my side, catching my face between his hands. His eyes rake over me with desperate urgency.
“I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, forehead pressed to mine. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“Are you okay?” I hiccup between sobs. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m okay,” he assures me, as his thumb brushes away the tears. “You don’t have to worry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Maude steps aside, letting him take her place beside me, her face soft with understanding.
“It’s good to see you,” she says, a flicker of relief betraying her own anxieties.
She stayed strong for me even when I knew she had doubts. She never left my side.
