It’s amazing how easily that apology rolls off my tongue. It costs me nothing at all to say. In truth, it makes me feel lighter, freer somehow. Maybe that’s why I keep saying it.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”
She raises her arm weakly and places a limp finger against my lips. “Shh…” She squints against the light and looks from side to side. When she tries to say something, it comes out only as a feeble croak. She clears her throat and tries again. “Wh… where am I?”
“St. Mary’s.”
She frowns. “B-Boris?”
My hands clench into fists automatically, but I keep my expression neutral. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “You’re sure?”
“A hundred percent.”
Dominik sent me pictures about an hour ago while Alyssa was still sleeping. They were graphic, even by the bloody standards of our world. Hell, even my stomach churned uncomfortably when I saw some of them. He wasn’t quite dead in the last of them, but he didn’t have much time left in this life.
No less than he deserves.
“My babies,” she mumbles, trying to sit up and failing. “Wh… where…？”
Panic flits across her face but I grab her hand and squeeze it gently. “They’re in the NICU. Emily is monitoring them both closely. Both girls are doing well.”
Her eyes flare. “Girls?”
I nod. “We have daughters, Alyssa. We have two daughters.”
A little bubble of laughter bursts through her teeth as more consciousness comes to her eyes, clearing away that fog. “Oh, God… I can’t believe it. And they’re doing okay?”
“They’re doing great. They’re both warriors, just like their mother.” She blinks and a tear slips down her cheek. “I’ve been going back and forth to the NICU every hour to check on them. One is a little smaller than the other, but Emily believes that she’ll catch up in no time. They’re so tiny… so tiny and so sweet.”
More tears start running down her cheeks. “I want to see them.”
I hesitate. “You’re still weak.”
“I’m not too weak for this. I want to see them, Uri.”
“Alyssa, I—”
She puts her hand on my arm and looks me in the eye. “You owe me.”
Dammit. She’s right. I do owe her for the hell I’ve put her through.
“I’ll get you a wheelchair.”
A few minutes later, I’m wheeling her down the corridors towards the neonatal unit. We reach the glass wall and Alyssa sucks in a sharp breath.
Our girls are lying in side-by-side incubators, both hooked up to a huge array of tubes, their little chests rising and falling with effort. They look pink, frail, alien.
“Oh my God,” Alyssa gasps as she sets eyes on the smaller of our twins. “She’s so tiny.”
“Don’t let her size fool you. That kid is all fight.”
Alyssa’s gaze turns to the second baby. “They’re here,” she whispers, as though she’s trying to reassure herself. “They’re here and they’re safe.”
“Yes, they are. You kept them safe.” I drop down to my knees in front of her and dab the tears from her face. “You did so good, Alyssa.”
She smiles, eyes sparkling with more tears yet to come. “You saved us.”
I shake my head. “I don’t deserve any of the credit. I was an asshole. I should never have believed that bullshit that Grigory—”
Just like she did before, she presses a fingertip to my lips. “I guess you’re just gonna have to spend the rest of our lives making it up to me.”
I smile. “It would be my honor.” I lean in and rest my forehead against hers, relishing for one moment how good it is to have her in my arms, warm and awake and alive, with color in her cheeks and fire in her eyes.
“We have to think of names,” she points out. “I actually have one in mind.”
“So do I. Katya. For my mother.”
She smiles softly. “Zena. For my sister.”
“That was easy.” I grin and stroke a fallen lock of hair away from her face.
Alyssa rests her head on my shoulder and looks towards the two incubators. “Zena and Katya Bugrov… wow. We have two children, Uri.”
“We have a family.” I wrap my arm around her. “And I am never letting anything hurt any of you ever again.”
She sighs deeply and snuggles closer. “I know.”