Chapter 91 Chapter 91
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Irina
Dimitri stared at his phone with wide eyes. The phone nearly slipped from his fingers.
"What is it?" I asked nervously. My voice sounded too loud in the quiet room. I pushed myself up on my elbows, the IV line tugging at my hand. "What happened?"
"Alexei," he said breathlessly. "Alexei is awake."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
My heart stopped beating for a moment.
Alexei.
The man who had ruined my life from the beginning. The man who had kidnapped me and terrorized me for months.
That man was awake.
I had almost forgotten about him lying in that coma.
I had let myself believe he might never wake up. It was a dark thought, but it had brought a measure of peace.
With everything else happening I had pushed him to the back of my mind.
But now he was awake.
And everything was about to change, again. The safety I had begun to feel could now be threatened.
"I should go to the estate now," Dimitri said. His voice was tough.
He started walking towards the door. But I grabbed his arm without thinking. My fingers were weak, but I clutched at the rough fabric of his coat sleeve. I couldn’t let him go.
"Do you have to?" I asked, my voice shaking. I hated how it sounded.
My hands were trembling badly. I couldn’t stop them. My whole body feel shaky and weak. My heart was racing so fast I thought it would burst.
Dimitri stopped and looked down at my shaking hands. He stared at them as if he’d never seen fear before. His expression softened immediately.
He bent down to my level on the bed. He took both my trembling hands in his large warm ones. Then he kissed them gently. His lips were warm against my cold skin.
"I have to go," he said softly. "My brother who has been in a coma for weeks has finally woken up."
"Even if we are not at peace yet," he continued, his thumbs stroking my knuckles. "I have to go see him. He is my blood."
"Mikhail would not like it if I did not go. The bratva would talk and call us names. They would say there is no loyalty. It would cause more problems."
I knew he was right. But the fear inside me was overwhelming.
"What if he comes back for me?" I whispered. "What if he wants me and the baby?"
The thought terrified me more than anything.
Dimitri's grip on my hands tightened. "I will protect you," he promised firmly. "I will make sure he does not set a foot here."
I wanted to believe him. I did believe him. But I didn’t believe in Alexei’s mercy.
Finally, I released his arm. "Go. But please be careful."
Dimitri kissed my forehead. His lips lingered for a second. "I will be back soon," he said. He stood up, and the room felt colder without him near.
He gave me one last, long look, then turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him.
I lay back in bed feeling scared and troubled. I pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my chin.
My mind was racing with terrible thoughts. Each one was worse than the last.
What would Alexei do now that he was awake?
Would he blame me for everything?
About an hour later there was a knock on my door. I jolted, my heart leaping into my throat. For a wild second, I thought it was Dimitri returning. Or worse, Alexei.
One of the guards entered carrying a tray of food. His face was polite. "Mrs. Volkov," he said. "You need to eat." He set the tray on the rolling table. Steam rose from a bowl of soup. It looked like broth and noodles.
But the thought of food made me feel sick. "Take it away," I said, turning my head towards the window. "I am not hungry."
"But ma'am..." the guard started. "Mr. Volkov said you must keep your strength up."
"I said take it away!" I repeated more firmly.
The guard looked uncertain.
But before he could leave, the door opened again.
And Mikhail walked in.
I sat up immediately in shock. Mikhail was supposed to be recovering in bed. He had been shot three times.
But here he was walking around. He moved slowly, not with his usual agility. He wore a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Eat your food," Mikhail commanded in his usual stern voice.
"Mikhail," I said in surprise, ignoring the command. "Should you be walking around? The doctors…"
"I am fine," he replied gruffly, cutting me off. He waved a dismissive hand. "Now eat." He glared at the guard, who quickly pushed the table closer to my bed and then scurried out.
Mikhail pulled a chair close to my bed and sat down carefully.
"You look terrible," I said honestly.
His skin had a greyish tint, and dark circles hung under his eyes.
"I was shot three times," Mikhail replied dryly, lifting one eye brow. "What do you expect? To look like I just came from a spa?"
Despite everything, I smiled a little. "Thank you for saving Dimitri."
"I did what was necessary," Mikhail said simply. His eyes studied me, missing nothing. "He is my son."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"Are you afraid?" Mikhail asked suddenly.
"Yes," I admitted, looking down at my hands twisting in the blanket.
"Alexei is awake." I said faintly.
"I know," Mikhail said. "Dimitri told me. He called from the car."
"What if he tries to take me back?" I asked. "What if he wants the baby? He is the biological father. Does he have rights?"
"He will not," Mikhail said firmly. His voice left no room for argument. "Dimitri will not allow it. I will not allow it."
"But Alexei is his brother," I argued.
"And you are his wife," Mikhail countered swiftly. "Eat," Mikhail ordered again, pointing a blunt finger at the cooling soup. "The child needs you strong. Your husband needs you strong. Stop being weak."
This time I obeyed. I picked up the spoon and took a small bite. The broth was warm and actually tasted good.
"How is your son?" Mikhail asked.
"Getting stronger every day," I replied, smiling. "The doctors say he might leave the NICU soon. He is breathing on his own. He’s gaining weight."
"Good," Mikhail said with a single nod of approval. "He is a fighter like his mother."
I smiled at that. A compliment from Mikhail was rare.
We talked for a while longer. About small things, mostly. About how the hospital food was terrible. About how the nurses were too loud at night. About the view from his room versus mine. It was ordinary. It felt good to have a normal conversation. To not think about danger for a few minutes.
But then, suddenly, the door opened.
Both Mikhail and I looked up.
And there, in the doorway, stood Alexei.
My blood turned to ice.
He looked thin and pale from his time in the coma. His clothes hung loosely on his frame.
Dimitri was standing behind him. His eyes found mine, and I saw a silent apology there.
Alexei took a step into the room. His eyes swept past Mikhail as if he were furniture, and returned to me. His lips, pale and dry, parted.
"Where is my son?" He asked coldly.