Page 11 of Bought to Bear Bratva Heir

There was a pause where everything that had been fuzzy for the last few hours came into focus. Every line was clear on the doctor's face as he peered down at me. And something was held up. Pink and squirming.

"You have a healthy baby boy. Congratulations."

I felt my heart expand and then explode with happiness. The second I saw him, I loved him more than I had ever loved anything, ever.

"I have a son," I whispered. "Give him—" Frowning, I watched the doctor hand the baby over to a nurse, and panic rose up in my throat. "Where are you taking him?"

Ignoring me completely, the doctor opened the door for her. "Take him to his father and grandfather. I need to close her up."

The door swung shut, and I screamed. "Give me my baby, give me my son."

"Sedate her." The doctor's cheerful voice disappeared into something darker. "I can’t work with all that screaming."

Something sharp scratched across my arm, and I felt the drugs working almost instantly. Greyish shadows ate up my vision so quickly I didn’t even have time to panic.

"Please," I begged in a whisper as that darkness took me away. "Please give me back my baby."

I woke up slowly, groggily opening my eyes to be greeted by bright sunlight and a cold room. Shivering, I looked around. There was nothing in here apart from my bed and some medical equipment.

My baby?

I shot upright, and pain sliced through me.

"Don’t try to move." A nurse appeared at my side. Her lined face creased with worry. "You’ll pop your stitches. Just rest a second, okay?"

I fell back, exhausted. How could I be so tired when I had just woken up? Silently, I watched her move around the empty room. And she did everything in her power not to look at me.

"Is my son—" My voice was raspy in my throat. "Is my son okay?"

"Yes, miss. He is just fine. Don’t worry about him." She tried and failed to sound cheery, but I wasn’t fooled. Something was going on here. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was.

"May I see him?"

Her shoulders went tense, and her sigh was heavy. "I’m sorry, miss, I can’t allow that. But Mr. Popovitch will be happy to hear that you are awake."

My stomach twisted. "Ilya?" Hope made my voice higher than usual. I didn’t know why they weren’t letting me see myson, but I knew Ilya would sort it out. He had promised to look after us.

"The older Mr.—" She had barely begun to speak when the door opened and a man appeared. Dark suit, greying hair, and the bulge of a gun at his hip.

I swallowed down the panic.

"It’s time," he said in his gruff Russian accent. "He wants to see her now."

I didn’t know what they were talking about, but my rapidly beating heart told me it was me. "Are you taking me to Ilya?" I lifted my chin defiantly. I didn’t want them to see the fear in my eyes. Even if my lips were trembling.

"She’s literally just out of surgery. She can’t be moved." The nurse flapped around me, all hands and nervous energy.

"My orders are pretty clear."

"It’s okay," I whispered, and her face crumbled in pity. That, more than anything else, terrified me.

Moving me from the bed to the chair was pure white-hot agony, and my face was drenched in sweat by the time it was done.

The man pushed me from the room silently. It didn’t matter how many questions I asked; he just stared stonily ahead.

All I could do was pray that he was taking me to Ilya and our son. I wanted to see them both desperately. That hope vanished the second I was pushed into the darkness of a parking garage and towards the waiting open door of a black town car.

"Good morning, Daisy."