Midnight Sanctuary (Bugrov Bratva #2)(89)

The doctor’s eyes bulge. “Follow me.” She takes me to the nurses’ station and asks the woman behind the counter to check all the surgeries taking place right now and with which doctors. Then she leans over the nurse’s shoulder and reads the screen. When she straightens, her lips are pursing even tighter. A thin slash of grim dismay. “Dr. Tasarov is not currently using any of the operating rooms. In fact, there are no emergency C-sections taking place right now.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods. “A hundred percent.”

“Then I need his pager number. Now.”

The doctor frowns. “I’m sorry, but I can only release that information to hospital staff. I can give you his cell phone—”

“No,” I growl, my desperation mounting higher and higher “He’ll have turned his phone off. Or destroyed it. I need his pager number so that I can track it.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

I lean forward over the counter. “He has my wife,” I snarl. “He has abducted her and my unborn babies. And if you don’t give me his pager number right fucking now, the lawsuit I’ll drop on your head will be the very least of the problems I will bring to your doorstep.”

The doctor’s face ripples with worry as she glances down at the nurse manning the desk. At least the nurse has the sense to nod in encouragement. The doctor sighs. She grabs a piece of paper, scribbles down the pager number for me, and forks it over.

“You didn’t get this number from me.”

I snatch it from her grasp. “Thank you.” Then I twist around and rush back outside where Nikolai and Dimiv are waiting for me right outside the doors.

“Well?” Nikolai asks.

Polly and Elle appear from the side. They’re holding hands. Polly’s face is drained of color and Elle is bouncing from one leg to the other frantically like the ground is molten.

“It was Grigory,” I hiss. “He lied.”

Dimiv raises his eyebrows. “Why would he do that?”

“To cause a rift. To isolate Alyssa. To get her out of this hospital and away from my protection.”

The three of us look at each other as the puzzle pieces start falling into place. Grigory is only a pawn. The real mastermind behind this is out there, roaming free. All of us say the same word in unison, the only possible explanation.

“Sobakin.”





54





ALYSSA





I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I really have to wake up. Ziva needs me.

She’s been vomiting all night. Her hair’s started to fall out in clumps and her mood has been manic. It doesn’t help that Mom’s still in denial about her diagnosis and Dad keeps insisting on forcing her to see new specialists again and again and again.

I’m the only one who understands what she needs: she needs to be treated like a person. Not a patient. A person.

Alyssa, where are you?

I’m here! I try to call out to her, but I can’t seem to find my voice. I can’t seem to open my eyes, either.

What even is this? What’s happening?

It’s my worst nightmare, is what it is. Catatonic when my loved ones need me most. I don’t have many of those left, “loved ones.” My whole world has narrowed down to two. Ziva and Elle.

Elle got early acceptance at Wellesley, so she’s going to be leaving soon. And Ziva… she’s sick.

Not the kind of sick that you can walk off. Not the kind of sick that you can sleep off. The kind of sick that’s with you when you walk and talk and breathe. The kind of sick that picks up steam the longer it sits in your body. It spreads roots and you can’t rip it out no matter how hard you try.

I’m here, Ziva. I’m never gonna leave you. And I’m not going to let you die.

I’ve made that promise to her countless times already. The last time I said it, she told me to stop making promises I couldn’t keep.

This isn’t up to you, Lys. It’s not up to anyone.

But she doesn’t get it. It is up to the people around you to hold you upright when you don’t have the strength anymore. Isn’t that the whole point of family? And without Ziva, I don’t have a family at all.

Come on, I will myself. Get up. Get the fuck up. Ziva needs you!

There’s a strange beeping in my left ear. It’s sending a prickly feeling up my left arm. Is someone touching me? Is Ziva here and I just haven’t been able to open my eyes long enough to notice?

Ziva?

No. It can’t be Ziva. She’s not usually so rough. And it doesn’t hurt so much when she’s around me. Why does it hurt? There are sharp stings racing down my spine. And my stomach. And now my arm.

What is that?

“Her vitals are stable,” a deep voice reports without emotion. “The babies’ heart rates have normalized too. We can leave them in there.”

Another voice snakes through my subconscious. Eerily familiar and yet alien enough to make my skin crawl. “Why would we want to? Doesn’t serve my purpose. Call me when you’re ready to induce.”

Then I hear footsteps receding.

“Vitals”? “Babies”? “Induce”?

Something is very wrong. If I can just open my eyes, maybe things will become clearer. I try to reach for Ziva but the moment I manage to get my eyes open, her likeness disintegrates. Instead, I’m staring at a man in a doctor’s coat. Gray stubble, patchy across the back of his head.