Page 51 of Kept By the Bratva

“It’s so fast,” I whispered, amazed. Tears leaked down my face as I understood another, more important detail.

A heartbeat. I hadn’t lost him or her. I hadn’t miscarried, despite the pain and blood.

“I have PCOS,” I shakily told the nurse and doctor.

She nodded. “Anything else?”

I shook my head. “Healthy as can be, otherwise.”

“Good. Very good.”

I didn’t know if she meant it was good that I didn’t have any other existing medical concerns or that things were looking good from what she saw. I relaxed anyway, knowing that they would help me. It hardly mattered if they were bribed to be here to serve a crime organization. Their Hippocratic Oath to help the ill and wounded should ensure that they’d do their best.

Easing back onto the pillows, I tracked how the cramps faded with every minute that passed. I was no longer gripped in that intense, stabbing pain, but I refused to think I was out of the woods yet. Something had to be wrong, because Dr. Francis was taking a long time to rub the ultrasound wand over my stomach. She focused on the screen and tapped buttons over and over, and I wanted to assume she was simply thorough. I’d had ultrasounds before, long ago when I was first suspected to have polycystic ovarian syndrome. Those Ob-Gyn appointments had scans and such, but none of them felt as long as this one did.

It’s going to be okay. Somehow, some way, itwillbe okay.

Focusing on Nik’s hold on my hand and the varying beats of my baby’s heartbeat, I tried to follow the differences in sound. Every time she moved the device, it sounded the same, yet not. All I cared about was that his or her beat was strong and not fading no matter where Dr. Francis moved over my still-flat stomach.

“You didn’t miscarry,” Dr. Francis said eventually, almost as though she knew what I was thinking. “You’ve lost some blood, just such implantation adjustments and shifting with the placenta. It can happen, and with your concerns, it’s not unexpected. PCOS can cause issues, but I see nothing overall alarming.”

“She’s okay?” Nik asked.

I tried to ignore the pang of hurt that he only cared about me, not his baby as well. But he didn’t know. Guilt ramped up my heart rate.

“Easy,” Dr. Francis said as the pulsometer showed my increased beat. “Truly, I think you’ll be fine.”

“If the baby’s just one of the Cartel’s bastards, and they raped her, why care about it?” a man muttered from the side of the room.

Mila, still hovering and acting like a bodyguard from letting anyone else closer, shot the man a hard look.

“I’m just saying,” he argued. “Why’s she so worried about it? Why would she want a Cartel baby so bad?”

Nik shook his head, squeezing my hand tightly. His jaw slid, and I grew more worried that his reaction was one of anger, not annoyance on my behalf.

Shit. What if they all start thinking I’m with the Cartel somehow?It felt like such a reach, but I was tense and so on edge with the scare of those cramps and the blood.

“I can’t lose?—”

“Shh.” Dr. Francis smiled softly at me. “No one’s losing anything.”

“Not so sure about that,” Mila muttered as one of Nik’s brothers kicked the other soldier out of the room. I didn’t understand why so many had to be guarding the doors now anyway, and I figured they were nosy with all the commotion. Margie hadn’t been quiet when she ran to get help.

“Do you know who the father is?” Dr. Francis asked carefully and neutrally.

I licked my lips, hating to keep it a secret for a second longer. Now that I’d faced a scare like this alone, now that I’d suffered the intensewhat-ifof a miscarriage or something worse, I didn’t want to ever experience it again.

What if I did lose the baby and Nik never even knew?I’d resent myself for the rest of my life.

I lifted my gaze to him, searching his face for a sign that he would forgive me for keeping this from him. I hadn’t counted on seeing him again to ever tell him. Since he’d come back in my life—and rescued me from a life of slavery and the horrors of being trafficked—I had no excuse to not come clean.

He noticed my intense gaze, and I blinked back tears.

Please. Please, don’t be mad.

Please forgive me.

I’m sorry.