Page 7 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

INDIGO

The hospital room is quiet in the morning light. My hand rests on my belly, still flat but somehow feeling different now that I know what's growing inside. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in clothes Anatoly bought for me earlier this morning.

"Your blood work looks good," Dr. Martinez says, glancing up from her clipboard with a warm smile. "And based on these results, I can confirm that the Mifeprex didn't impact the pregnancy."

I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Beside me, Anatoly's hand tightens around mine.

"So the baby's okay?" I need to hear her say it directly, plainly.

"Yes, Mrs. Baryshev. The baby is developing normally," she confirms. "Everything looks exactly as we'd expect at this stage."

A wave of relief washes over me, so intense it makes my eyes sting. I blink rapidly, not wanting to cry again. I've done enough of that.

"Like I said before, I'd like to see you again in two weeks rather than the standard four," Dr. Martinez continues. "But for now, there's no reason for concern at this point."

She looks between us, her expression softening. "Congratulations to you both. I know this might not have been planned, but..."

"It's wanted," I say quietly, surprising myself with how true it feels. "Very much wanted."

Anatoly's thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. I don't look at him, but I feel the weight of his gaze.

"Well then," Dr. Martinez hands me a folder. "These are your discharge papers and some information about early pregnancy. I've also included a prescription for prenatal vitamins."

As she walks us through the basics: what to eat, what to avoid, and warning signs to watch for. Anatoly nods along, and asks follow-up questions to everything she says.

Meanwhile, I try to imagine a future where this all feels normal. Where I'm just a woman expecting a baby with her husband, not someone whose sister is being held hostage by people who want us both dead.

And not just the wife of a pakhan.

But right now, in this moment, I allow myself to feel one simple thing: my baby is safe.

Dr. Martinez finally leaves us alone to finish gathering my things. Several of Anatoly's men have appeared down the hall now.

Their presence is welcomed after everything that took place, but also stifling in its own way.

They're a constant reminder that this world is dangerous, and that even this unexpected joy can still turn into something bitter at a moment's notice.

"I'm going to make a call to check on security at the mansion," Anatoly says, brushing his lips against my forehead. "Will you be okay for a minute?"

I nod, and he steps into the hallway, his voice low as he speaks rapid Russian into his phone.

That's when I notice Marcus standing awkwardly by the door. Bags have gathered under his eyes. Gratitude pours into my heart when I see him. He's been here the whole time. The quiet guardian who's seen me at my worst twice now.

He approaches cautiously when he sees me looking at him.

"Just wanted to make sure you're good before I head out."

I try to smile but feel it wobble. "Marcus, I... I don't even know how to thank you."

"Don't need to, Indie." He shrugs.

"Yes, I do." I reach out and take his rough hand in mine. "You saved my life. My baby's life. You didn't have to do any of it."

His eyes soften slightly. "Course I did. That's what people do—they help each other."

"Not everyone," I say quietly, thinking of Lola, of Ryan, of all the people who've tried to hurt me. "Some people just take."

Marcus shifts his weight. "Well, I ain't one of them. And neither are you." He gives my shoulder a gentle pat. "You're gonna be alright. That man of yours." He nods toward the doorway where Anatoly is still on the phone. "He cares about you. I can see it."

"I know," I whisper, because I do know, even if neither of us has said the words out loud.

"Just promise me one thing," Marcus says, his voice gruff.

"What's that?"

"When that little one comes, you bring 'em by the shop. Let old Marcus give 'em their first haircut." His serious expression breaks into a rare, full smile.

I smile through sudden tears. "Deal."

I clutch Anatoly's hand as our car pulls into the mansion's familiar driveway. His fingers are warm, entwined with mine so tightly it's like he's terrified I might vanish if he loosens his grip even just a little.

I can't blame him.

The drive from the hospital was surprisingly calm. Anatoly pulled out all the stops and arranged a full convoy—three black SUVs ahead of us and two behind—to escort us home.

It should make me feel safe, but instead, my stomach churned with nervous energy all the way back.

"We're almost home," Anatoly murmurs, his thumb tracing circles against my skin.

Home.

I stare at the mansion as we approach, its grand silhouette looming larger with each passing second. I can't help but remember the first time I saw it when I was practically a prisoner, wondering what horrors awaited me inside its walls.

So much has changed since then.

I've changed. And so has Anatoly.

There's a life growing inside me. Life that the two of us made. And that knowledge alone is both precious and terrifying all at once.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his voice gentle.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. How can I explain that I'm feeling everything at once?

Relief that our baby is safe. Terror for Amara.

Worry about what Valentina might do when she learns I've returned.

Anxiety about the future. And underneath it all, a stubborn, inexplicable hope that somehow, we'll find a way through this mess.

That our love is enough to carry us through this.

The car slows to a stop at the front entrance. Before I can even reach for the handle, someone rushes forward to open my door.

Anatoly squeezes my hand once more before letting go so I can exit the car.

I step out and take a deep breath, letting the familiar salt of the sea breeze in the cold air fill my lungs until the antiseptic smell of the hospital starts to fade.

"Svetlana," I say suddenly, turning to Anatoly as he exits the car and joins my side. "Which hospital is she at?"

"She's here," Anatoly replies. "I had her transferred to the mansion once she was stable enough to move. She's awake now, being monitored by a private medical team in the east wing."

"Thank God."

Svetlana put herself in danger because of me. Because she was protecting me and Amara. And even though I know that there was nothing I could've done to stop that cop from shooting her by the road, I can't shake the feeling that it was my fault that she's hurt.

"Can I see her?"

Anatoly's hand finds the small of my back, his touch gentle but grounding. "Of course you can," he says without hesitation. "I'll take you to her right now, if you want."

"I'd like that."

Once inside, Anatoly leads me down the winding corridors of the mansion.

As we approach the east wing, I can't help but notice the increased security everywhere. There are armed men stationed at various points along the hallway. Their eyes track us as we pass.

Clearly, the rule that Anatoly imposed on my first day here that nobody should look at me has been revoked, in light of everything that has happened.

"In here," Anatoly says softly, stopping at a door near the end of the corridor.

He opens it for me, and I step inside what looks like a fully equipped hospital room. Medical monitors beep steadily, an IV stand holds bags of fluid, and there, propped up against white pillows, is Svetlana.

Her face is paler than usual, and the dark circles under her eyes make her look almost ghostly. Her black hair, usually so sleek, looks matted and messy.

"Svetlana," I whisper as I move quickly to her bedside.

Her eyes find me, and somehow, she manages to give me a weak smile.

"Why the tears, silly girl? I'm alive, aren't I?"

I touch my cheek and realize it's wet. I hadn't even noticed I was crying.

"I'm so sorry," I say, the words feeling completely inadequate. "This is all because of me."

"Nonsense," she replies, her voice raspy but still carrying that familiar no-nonsense tone. "This is because of Lola and her dogs. Not you."

Anatoly clears his throat behind me. "I'll give you two some time," he says. "I need to check in with Roma anyway. I'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

I nod gratefully as he steps out, closing the door quietly behind him.

"What happened?" Svetlana and I both ask at the exact same time.

We look at each other for a beat, then share a small laugh despite everything. It feels good to be able to laugh, even if Svetlana immediately winces from the exertion.

She gestures at the medical equipment surrounding her bed, then at herself. "I think this answers your question, no? Now it's your turn to tell me, silly girl."

"Lola happened." I take a deep breath. "After that cop shot you, he forced me into Lola's car. She and Grisha were inside. She knew I was pregnant."

"How?"

"She told me that she had me followed, and that she went through the trash at the bathroom in the café."

"Blyat," Svetlana curses. "That was my fault. I got sloppy."

"No." I shake my head. "If Lola wanted to find out, she would've found out one way or the other. Don't blame yourself."

She nods, but the way her eyes look at me tells me that she isn't quite ready to forgive herself yet. "What happened next?"

"She had these pills. Mifeprex." And when Svetlana' tilts her head, I add. "It's an abortion pill. She forced one into my mouth."

Her blue eyes flash with rage. "That fucking bitch."

"She made me choose. Leave Anatoly forever and she'd let me keep the baby and Amara would be safe. Or stay and..." I look down at my stomach. "I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk either of them. So I chose the first option, and she had Grisha take me to the train station."

"And Grisha wasn't about to hold to whatever deal she struck with you," Svetlana says, not as a question.