Page 123 of Thorns of Deceit

Aiden steered me into the cabin, where a black medical bag sat on the table, while Dr. Bennetti continued his rambling. “I was in the middle of charming the Dutch ambassador’s wife, and your cronies interrupted my?—”

I sat my mom down on the couch, then crouched beside her.

“You can resume your flirting tomorrow,” Aiden said flatly, nodding in my mom’s direction. “She needs you more.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to protest, but then his gaze landed on my mom. His expression fractured, the humor bleeding from his face.

The crimson bench she was propped on only made the bruises on her skin stand out starkly. Or maybe it was the fact that she was sickly pale underneath them.

Just then, she gasped, her abdomen trembling, and liquid soaked through her clothes and onto the plush velvet seat.

“Is that…” I stared at the wet mark spreading down her legs. “Did her water just break?”

“Christ,” Tristan breathed, kneeling down in an instant. “When did she go into labor?” He looked at me like I knew the answers while I watched him in shock. He snapped his fingers as if to wake me up. “How long has she been having contractions?”

“Watch it, Tristan,” Aiden growled. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

The doctor didn’t appear fazed. Instead, he asked, “Well?”

“I… She… She hasn’t said a word,” I whispered, “I didn’t notice she was in pain.”

God, what a horrible daughter I was.

Tristan snapped on gloves, a clinical expression contorting his face. “Who did this to her?”

“Her husband,” Aiden answered. “He’s dead now.”

Dr. Bennetti nodded as if pleased. “She’s in shock, but she’s definitely in labor. This could escalate fast. I need lights, hot towels, and a flat surface. Now.”

“Clearing the table,” Tyran shouted.

Aiden scooped her up and laid her on it while the doctor unzipped his bag, revealing tools that gleamed under the cabin lights.

The twins disappeared just as Tristan started a pelvic exam. My mother’s hand jolted suddenly, a low whimper escaping her throat. Her fingers clawed weakly at her belly.

“She’s hemorrhaging,” Tristan muttered. “And the baby hasn’t descended. We don’t have time for this to go natural.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned, taking Mom’s hand in mine.

“He’ll have to do a C-section,” Aiden explained.

“But we’re not in the hospital,” I hissed, panic slowly rising within me.

“No time,” Tristan barked. “This would not be my preferred choice, but if we wait for a hospital, they’ll both die.”

“What?”

Aiden grabbed my hand, tugging me away. “Do it.”

My mother’s eyes fluttered open briefly, her lips moving. I leaned in, but no words left her.

I locked my gaze with Tristan and nodded, barely able to find my voice. “Save her. Both of them. Please.”

He started with pain medication, then sterilized both his workspace and my mother’s skin.

The yacht’s engines rumbled softly beneath us, an eerie contrast to the chaos in the cabin. Heat lamps were dragged over. The lights above buzzed to life. The air grew heavy, the scent of antiseptic filling every corner of it.

“Scalpel,” Tristan ordered.