Page 33 of Scarlet Promise (Yegorov Bratva #4)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ALINA

Everything aches when I come to. Nothing feels right.

Slowly, the world comes into focus. The flashing lights aren’t coming from my brain but from the EMT flashing an actual light in my eyes to see my response.

“She’s awake.”

I’m strapped to a gurney, and as the EMT shifts to the side, I see Demyan being fussed at.

He shoves the EMT away and strides over to me, with Erin hurrying behind him.

I gasp. “The baby! Is?—”

“You seem fine, but we’re taking you in for a checkup. You’re lucky your brother was there to catch your fall and cushion you. You landed on him pretty hard.” The EMT takes the blood pressure cuff off and motions for me to be loaded into the ambulance.

I struggle up, trying to unclip the straps, but Erin takes my hand.

“You’re going to be all right. I know it.”

My head’s clanging, and I’m trying to piece it all together.

One moment, I was fighting with Demyan, with things getting nastier than I can get my mind around, and the next, I stepped on something and went flying. Then everything went black.

My brain’s throbbing but it’s stress, not anything else. And as I move my extremities I can’t find any pain.

Demyan must have gotten the brunt of it. Not me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Sasha didn’t pick up all his toys, and you stepped on one of his toy trucks. It threw you off balance, and then you just didn’t…fight…” Her voice drops. “I think you fainted. Demyan was a madman, leaping in the way to catch you. He loves you. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” I push out. “And Ilya?”

“He loves him, too.”

She’s trying to stay focused on me, but she’s clearly caught up in Demyan, who’s on his phone, hovering at the end of my stretcher, a white gauze bandage sticking to his temple.

He rips it off, and I shrink back as he approaches, not wanting to face his wrath. I cling to Erin.

“No,” I say, “Has someone called Ilya? He… I need him. And he needs to know something could be wrong?—”

“Nothing’s going to be wrong. Demyan caught you.”

“I know that.” I plead silently with her. “Call him, please.”

Erin pulls out her phone and calls.

Then calls again.

And again.

Her frown deepens with each try.

My panic that threatens to drown me is irrational, but I can’t stop it.

I never said goodbye to Max. What if something I don’t know about is wrong, and— I need…

I need to speak to Ilya. I try to get out of the gurney straps, but the EMT comes back.

They load me into the ambulance and go to close the doors.

“Wait!” I glare at them.

The EMT that’s in the ambulance already sighs heavily, and the other swings in next to me.

“Whatever it is can wait. You’re pregnant, so we want to get you checked out properly?—”

“I said wait, or I’ll have your jobs.” I can’t do that, and I don’t care. “Erin!”

“There’s no answer,” she says, her phone still pressed to her ear. “I can keep trying?—”

“Leave him a message, please. Tell him to meet me at the hospital.”

The EMT slams the door, and they take off, the siren screaming.

I let them attack me, poke me, prod me as my nausea keeps washing through me.

What if my stupidity and need to fight with Demyan had endangered the baby? Or worse… What if?—

“Miss Yegorov?—”

“Mrs. Belov,” I say.

“Mrs. Belov,” the EMT says in a soothing tone, “I need you to calm down and not move.” He puts the cuff back on. “Your blood pressure is through the roof, so try and calm down and relax. Deep, slow breaths. With me…”

“I’m fine. I landed on my brother,” I say.

He smiles. “You’re the expert now, are you? Humor me and breathe.”

Gritting my teeth, I mimic his breathing.

When we arrive at the private hospital, I’m on the brink of calm and let the doctor check me out thoroughly.

They move me to another stretcher and wheel me up to a room, no matter how much I protest.

“I don’t want a room. I don’t need a room.” I want to sit here and wait for Ilya. The panic starts to blur my vision and it’s harder and harder to breathe.

But they don’t listen to me as someone injects me and minutes later a heavy calm that blankets everything settles.

I blink, look around.

I’m hooked to a drip with a peg on my finger to monitor whatever it is they want monitored, all for their entertainment.

But finally, after a long forever, the doctor comes back in.

“The good news is,” he says, going over the chart in his hands, “the baby’s fine. It’s very early days, as I’m sure you already know, and you’re very lucky your brother caught you and broke the fall.”

“So lucky,” I mutter.

He keeps his face straight. “If he hadn’t, you could have ended up with a concussion or broken bones. We want to keep you in overnight?—”

“Why, if I’m fine?”

He smiles, and I want to punch him. Maybe falling makes me violent. Or maybe being at the end of my rope does. But I force myself to breathe and remain calm.

“Because I want to run tests,” he says. “Make sure your bloodwork’s in order, give you some fluids, make you rest. And I want to make sure your vitamins and nutrients are up to scratch, as well as make sure the shock of the fall doesn’t suddenly hit you.”

“Where’s Ilya? Where’s my husband?”

“Talk to your brother.” The doctor pats my hand and then leaves, and Demyan comes in.

My brother’s clearly anxious and guilt-ridden, as he’s finding it hard to stay still and look at me, and I want to feel bad, but I don’t. I want to thumb my nose at him.

He pulls up a chair and tries to take my hand. I move it away.

“Are you all right?” he asks, finally bringing his gaze to mine.

“Are you?”

“I’m fine.” He sits in the chair.

I look at him. “What are you doing, Demyan?”

At my quiet tone, he frowns. “Waiting with you.”

“I don’t want you to stay,” I say. “You can’t. I know how much you pay this hospital, but a patient’s a patient, and since I’ve been admitted against my will, my needs come before yours. You aren’t good for my calmness.”

“I’m not trying to upset you,” he mutters. “I’m here as your brother. I caught you?—”

“Thank you for that. But…I don’t want you here, not until you fix things with Ilya first.” I blow out a breath and look into his pale-blue eyes. “I can’t handle this anymore. It’s not good for me or the baby.”

“As I said, I’m not here to upset you. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

“And I love you.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. “But I need to focus on what’s important right now, important for me and my future. And that’s my health and the baby’s health.”

I pause and choose my next words carefully. “And the health of my relationship, my marriage with Ilya. I’m not stressed with him. I am with you. And I need to do what I can to keep my stress level down.”

“I’m sorry,” Demyan says.

“I don’t need an apology. Ilya does, and you know it.”

Demyan gets up, runs a hand over his face.

“I’ve been hard on Ilya. I’ll allow that. But only because I’ve had to be everything. Mother, father, brother, the person who had to make sure you’re better than me, better than us all. Mainly because you are, Alina.

“And maybe under all that responsibility,” he says, “I got lost under the weight. Don’t get me wrong. I love you, and raising you wasn’t a chore at all. But it comes with so much, and I need to protect you. That’s in my job description.”

I mull his words and slowly nod. “I get that. I do. But…protect me from what? Ilya? You and I both know you don’t need to do that.

He’s a good man, the best. What you demand of others, you demand of yourself, and if for one second you actually thought Ilya was even a little like how you’ve portrayed him lately, he’d never have been in your life in the first place. ”

“Protecting you is a crime?”

I laugh softly. “No, Demyan. And I get it. I do. But don’t you think I’ve been through enough? You say I’m better than you and our family? If that’s true, why give me more grief?”

“Because…” He stops. Then he shrugs. “Because letting go is hard, Angel. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“Idiot.” My voice chokes as my vision blurs. “How would you do that when we’re talking about Ilya and me? You have us both already. Nothing’s lost. Not unless you push me away, because I’ll take him with me.

“That’s the thing about him. He’s fiercely loyal. He’s good, and he’ll still be by your side no matter what. Unless I make him see cutting ties is best for me and our baby’s well-being. Be the great friend and brother I know you are. And the great uncle I know you will be.”

Demyan shakes his head and paces for a few minutes.

Then he stops. “Fuck, when did you get so wise?”

“Since always.”

“You’re right, Angel. And I’ll fix it with Ilya.”

“Good.” I lie back down.

He comes in close, his gaze grave. “But I can’t promise things will be the same.”

“That’s on you. If you can look at him the same, he will, too. Ilya’s a good man.”

“I might have gone too far.” He pulls out his buzzing phone and then shoves it away again.

What I’d like is for someone to get Albert and bring him to me, but Magda and Olga are there. Once they get him out of hiding, no doubt they’ll spoil him. But that’s not like having him here.

Just Albert and Ilya. That’s all I want.

Demyan mutters something about it just may not be the same. It’s on the tip of my tongue to correct him, to tell him that he’s wallowing in guilt, that if he can get back to where they were, Ilya will, too.

I’m not suggesting for a moment that Ilya’s a saint and is just waiting to forgive Demyan or pick up where they left off. But Demyan’s the one who lost his mind trying to protect me, and he has to make up the difference, to put in the work.

I know it won’t be as much as he thinks because Ilya will do what it takes to make things good with my brother for me.

But Demyan can stay in purgatory a little longer.

He sits then swears as his phone starts to buzz again, and this time he answers.

“What is it?” he says in Russian and puts his phone on speaker.

“I’ve got some reliable information for you,” Pavel says. “It’s from a snitch in Santo’s bratva.”

Demyan looks at me. “Go on.”

“Apparently, they’re going to target Antonio and Simonov with Ilya.”

Demyan’s eyes flash. I hold his gaze steady.

“And Melor?” my brother asks.

“They’re hoping to get him, too,” Pavel says. “But the snitch thought you’d be interested in the fact that Santo wanted to bring you down, too.”

Darkness settles over him. “I see?—”

“That’s not the part I thought you’d want to know. I know you and Santo don’t see eye to eye. But it seems Ilya threw a wrench into that. He demanded you be left out of it and not one person from our bratva be touched. Santo agreed.”

He thanks Pavel and ends the call.

I raise my brows at Demyan.

“See?” I say. “Even after everything you’ve said and done to push him away, he’s remained loyal.”

“And?” Demyan asks.

I sigh. “And he’s still loyal. Isn’t that enough proof that Ilya’s the same guy who’s had your back for most of your life? That the friendship’s success or failure will be your choice. Ilya made his. Long ago.”

When he doesn’t answer, I close my eyes.

“Where is he anyway?” I ask.

“Erin spoke to him or left him a message,” he says. “She texted a while back and said he should be on his way, and that Albert’s good.”

“I miss them both.” I open my eyes. “Go wait in the lobby for Ilya, and don’t come back until you’ve worked things out with him.”

I breathe in, preparing myself for a fight, but Demyan just nods and leaves.

As silence settles over the room, I wait for my nerves to settle. They do a little, but it’s going to take more than sleep and tests and rest to make me better.

My brother and Ilya working their shit out is the only cure.

And I hope they do because I’m not sure how much more I can take.