Page 49 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

KOVAN

“I can’t believe you were in labor all morning and didn’t say a word.”

Vesper sits on the edge of the hospital bed in a pale blue gown, her bare legs swinging freely. Even now, with sweat beading at her hairline and her face flushed from contractions, she’s beautiful. How does she manage that?

“Mm,” she hums, closing her eyes.

I jump forward. “Another contraction?”

“No.” Her eyes stay closed. “I’m ignoring you.”

“What?”

“You’ve spent thirty minutes lecturing me. It's hard to focus on giving birth when you’re being scolded.”

“I wasn’t lecturing you.”

She opens her eyes and gives me a look. “You called me irresponsible. Twice. And insane once.”

Did I say that? “Maybe I was a little?—”

“Panicked?” She smiles. “It’s okay. I’m nervous, too.”

I sit beside her on the narrow bed. The mattress dips under my weight. “Yeah. I am nervous.”

Her smile grows. “Good. We can figure this out together. And Luka will help where we mess up.”

I pull her against my side, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with hospital antiseptic. “Never thought I’d have this. A real family.”

“Me neither.” She looks up at me. “I thought medicine would be enough. Saving other people’s children. But this—” She rests her hand on her belly. “This is different.”

She tenses suddenly, her face scrunching.

“Contraction?” I ask.

“Yes. They’re getting closer. Maybe an hour before things get serious.”

“Where’s the damn doctor?” I start to stand, ready to hunt down medical staff.

Vesper grabs my arm. “The nurses checked me twenty minutes ago. I’m only five centimeters and I need to be ten before the baby comes. The doctor doesn’t have to be here yet.”

“You can stop being a doctor now. You’re the patient.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t turn it off.”

“Neither can I.” I settle back down but keep scanning the hallway through the open door.

“We should talk about names,” she says, an obvious ploy to distract me from my protective instincts. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I haven’t really thought about it with everything else going on.” I sigh and run a hand over my face. “It needs to be strong, though. Something he can grow into.”

“A Russian name?”

“I’d love that. If you want it, too, that is.”

She brings my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles. “I have one in mind. Want to hear it?”

The simple gesture calms me more than it should. This woman knows exactly how to handle me. “Tell me.”

“Vitalii.”

That knocks me sideways. I take a deep breath to steady myself, then I place my palm flat against her stomach, imagining a little boy with Krayev green eyes. “Vitalii.”

“Just a suggestion,” she’s quick to say. “If it’s too hard, naming him after your brother?—”

“No. I like it. Love it.” The name feels right. “Vitalii Krayev.”

Vesper beams. “Perfect. But he needs a middle name. Something to set him apart.”

I squeeze her hand and offer up a bombshell of my own. “What about Thomas?”

Her grip tightens. “You want to name our son after my father? The man who was part of an organ trafficking ring?”

“I want to name him after the man who raised you,” I correct. “Who taught you to save lives. The good parts of your father.”

Tears spill down her cheeks. She rubs her belly in slow circles. “Thomas.”

“Only if you want to.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“He was your father, and he loved you. Our son can carry these names and make them better. Be his own man.”

“Okay.” Her voice shakes. “Vitalii Thomas Krayev. We have a name.”

Like the baby is accepting our choice, a contraction hits her hard. Vesper doubles over, gripping the bed rail, her face twisted in pain. I hold her through it, wiping her forehead with a damp cloth until it passes.

“I’m getting the nurses.”

“Yes.” She nods, breathing hard. “They’re coming fast now.”

I go out in the hall and call for someone, and the head nurse comes bustling in with professional cheer. I hold Vesper’s hand while the woman checks her progress.

“Nine centimeters, honey. Time to meet your baby.” She shouts to someone in the hallway, “Page Dr. Mann!”

From there, everything speeds up. Nurses move around the room, checking monitors, adjusting equipment. Vesper pants through increasingly powerful contractions, sweat soaking her gown. I focus on her face, on being her anchor.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper when she squeezes my hand hard enough to cut off circulation. “You’re incredible.”

Another contraction builds. This time, she screams—a low, primal wail that makes my chest ache. I’ve never felt this helpless. If I could take her place, I would.

“I’m okay,” she gasps between contractions, trying to reassure me even now.

“Forget about me. Just focus on the baby.”

“I have to push!” Her voice is urgent, desperate. “He’s coming. I can feel him.”

Dr. Mann sweeps in, already gowned and gloved. “Then let’s push, Vesper. I’m here to catch him.”

Part of me wants to watch our son being born, but Vesper has my hand in a death grip. I can’t leave her. So I stay by her head and watch over her knees as she works.

“I can see his head!” Dr. Mann announces. “Beautiful dark hair.”

“Really?” Vesper looks at me through her exhaustion. “Your hair.”

I kiss her forehead. “Almost here. Keep going.”

“One big push, Vesper. Perfect. Head’s out. Another push for the shoulders. One more aaand… he’s here!”

Vesper screams and pushes with everything she has. A small, slippery body slides into the doctor’s waiting hands. He’s thin but long, and absolutely perfect.

Then he cries—angry, indignant screeches that fill the room.

Vesper laughs through her tears. “He’s here.”

Dr. Mann summons me. “Time to cut the cord, Dad.”

I kiss Vesper’s hand and walk around the bed. The nurse hands me surgical scissors and Dr. Mann shows me where to cut. One snip and Vitalii Thomas Krayev becomes his own person.

“Congratulations,” she tells me. “You’re officially a father.”

She places him in my arms. He’s so small, so fragile. Two eyes, a nose, ten perfect fingers and toes. A real person who somehow came from us.

“Skin-to-skin contact with Mom,” Dr. Mann suggests.

I carry our son to Vesper and place him on her bare chest. She cradles him close, tears streaming, and murmurs, “He’s an angel.”

I stare down at them—my woman and my son. This is my future. This is what I have to protect.

This is everything.

“I could stare at him forever,” Vesper whispers, tracing Vitalii’s cheek with one finger. He lies between us on the bed, swaddled in the blue cashmere blanket I had custom-made weeks ago.

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

She blushes and focuses on the baby to avoid my gaze. “It’s been an hour. We should call everyone. Luka’s probably going crazy waiting.”

“A few more minutes, please,” I whisper. “I want to enjoy just us.”

“A few more minutes sounds perfect.”

Vitalii looks content against his mother’s chest, eyes closed, breathing steady. Watching him, feeling the weight of what we’ve created, makes me brave enough to say what I should have said months ago.

“I love you, you know.”

Vesper smiles. “He loves you, too.”

“I meant you .”

Her smile falters. “You’ve never said that before.”

“I’ve felt it for months. Today’s the first time I was brave enough to say it. I figured, if you could push a person out of your body, I could tell you how I feel.”

“I love you, too,” she answers.

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

She freezes. “Are you asking?”

I get off the bed and pull out the black velvet box I’ve been carrying for months now. The six-carat champagne diamond catches the hospital room light when I open it.

“You have a ring?!”

“Of course I have a ring. Wasn’t going to propose empty-handed, was I?”

“But I thought this was spontaneous.”

I shake my head. “I’ve had this ring since you came back into my life. I was always sure about you, Vesper. Everything else I had to figure out. But I’ve known I want you forever.”

She cups my face. “We already have a life together.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She nods, laughing through happy tears. I slide the ring onto her finger and kiss her over our sleeping son.

Perfect.