Page 145

Outside, the night is cool, but Lila is burning up.
Torres is already pulling up in one of our SUVs, the tires screeching against the pavement. His eyes widen the second he sees Lila in my arms.
“Shit,” he mutters, yanking the back door open. “She in labor?”
“She’s having contractions,” I grit out. “We need to move.” I slide into the back seat with her, keeping her pressed against me.
Torres slams the gas.
Lila gasps again, her body going stiff. I cradle her face, forcing her to look at me.
“We’re almost there,” I promise, even though I have no fucking clue how much time we have.
Her eyes flutter, her breath shuddering.
But she nods.
And I hold her tighter, praying we make it in time.
30
LILA
Everything is blurry.
Pain crashes over me in waves, sharp and unrelenting, pulling me under. I can hear voices, distant and warped, but I can’t make out the words.
Hands. There are hands on me, holding me down, moving me, lifting me.
The bright hospital lights blind me.
I try to focus—on anything—but the pain is too much. My body feels like it’s being ripped apart from the inside out.
“Stay with me,kiska.”
Mikhail’s voice.
I try to hold on to it.
I feel myself being wheeled down a hallway, the cool air stinging my skin. My mother’s voice cuts through the noise—frantic, worried—but I can’t make out what she’s saying.
Mikhail’s hand squeezes mine. I cling to it, to him. “Mikhail…blood, you were shot.”
“It’s okay,kiska. I’m here, don’t worry. I’m okay.”
Then everything goes black.
The next time I wake,the world is softer.
The harsh fluorescent lights are gone, replaced by the dim glow of morning filtering through the curtains. The air smells clean, sterile, and my body feels heavy, but the pain has dulled to an ache.
My eyelids flutter open, the hospital room coming into focus.
And then I see him.
Mikhail.
He’s sitting on the bed beside me, one arm draped over my waist, his other hand cradling mine. His head is lowered, his dark hair messy like he’s been running his fingers through it all night.