Page 50 of Twisted Embrace

Lucia’s voice shocked the hell out of me. My reflexes reacted, my arm flying across the table. Thank God, I caught the vase before it smashed on the floor. Laughing nervously, when I righted the thick glass, I finally turned in her direction.

“You’re awake.”

She nodded, eyeing me carefully. Dear God. She blamed me too. When she reached out, I almost burst into tears. I gripped her fingers, blinking as several slipped past my lashes.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I wasn’t going to burden her with anything at this point.

“Liar,” she said then winced.

“Do I need to get the doctor?”

“No, silly. I’m okay. What happened?”

They hadn’t told her anything? Shit. “I think that’s best heard from your husband.”

“No,” she whispered, obviously in more pain than she was willing to let on. “I want you to tell me.”

I pulled the chair closer, easing down to buy myself some time. “The Bratva discovered the location of the party.”

She nodded as if I’d just told her a planned grocery list. “Anyone else hurt?”

“You mean other than the bad guys? Not that I know of. They were targeting someone in particular.”

“Me.”

“Maybe I should say two people in particular.”

As she studied me with tired eyes, I knew the moment she’d realized what I was trying to say. “Who are you to them?”

“Apparently a relative?” I laughed and tried to pull my hand away, but she refused to allow it.

“How?”

“From what I’ve been told, my parents aren’t my parents. Some Russian guy is, and he is or was kin to this Pakhan person. Whatever the hell that is. Apparently, your brother killed him.”

Lucia remained quiet, taking it all in. It sounded like a fairytale for demon children.

“Is Enzo protecting you? He needs to.”

“Yes, he is in his own way. You need to rest. Don’t worry yourself about what’s going on.”

“What about the baby?”

I shook my head. “He or she is doing just fine.”

“He.” After saying the single word, her eyes lit up as they used to do in what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Oh, that’s incredible. Does D’Artagnan know?”

She shook her head slowly, the sadness returning. “I can’t feel him kick any longer.”

“Oh, honey. Don’t do that to yourself. Please don’t. Let the doctors do their job.” When tears slipped down her cheeks, I was ready to kill every Russian with my bare hands. I squeezed her fingers, tugging on her arm until she shifted her gaze in my direction.

“It’s a baby boy.”

“Yes, and he’s growing inside of you. Have faith. Your baby boy will be a fighter just like his mama and daddy.”

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