“You coming in here and yelling at me isn’t going to help!” she cries out. “None of this is going to help. God, Uri, you can’t even look at me.”
“Because when I look at you, all I see is betrayal. I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back.”
A broken sob escapes her lips. “Do you really think I need you to tell me how badly I fucked up?”
Her warmth is rubbing off on me and I realize what a dangerous position I’m in. She’s going to lure me in with her siren’s eyes, her soft pleading words, her love for my siblings.
No. I will not be sucked into that black hole again. It may feel like heaven for a few seconds, but I know now that it’s a trap.
So I release her, pushing her off me so that she stumbles back a few paces.
“Please see that, Uri,” she begs as her voice trembles. “I care about getting Polly back just as much as you do. I need you to believe that that’s the truth.”
I swallow the acrid taste in my mouth. Guilt serves no purpose here. It doesn’t bring Polly back even one second sooner. So if Alyssa is torturing herself, locked down here all alone… so be it.
It’s the least she deserves.
“You’re right,” I murmur. “I can’t look at you. And starting from now… I won’t.”
I turn my back on her and start striding towards the basement door. I need distance—room to breathe, to let this cloying guilt work itself out of me. I don’t feel bad for Alyssa. I can’t. I won’t.
“Uri!”
I ignore her. She can scream for me until she’s blue in the face, but I’m not turning back. Until—
“I’m pregnant, you know.”
I freeze at the threshold. All I can hear is her words echoing in my ears, accompanied by the booming thrum of my pulse.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Then: liar.
I underestimated the little siren. She really is capable of anything. I would’ve thought that stooping this low is beyond her… but I guess I would’ve thought wrong.
I spin around slowly and walk over to her. She looks more fragile than ever, cowering in my shadow, caged between me and the wall by her bed.
“You’re lying.”
She stares up at me, blinking back tears and trying not to let me see her chin wobbling. “I’m not. I’m about thirteen weeks along. Ask Dr. Popov if you don’t believe me.”
Liar.
Pregnant.
Liar.
Pregnant.
Which one do I believe?
“I will check with the doctor,” I growl at Alyssa. “And if you’re lying, I will make you pay.”
Then I stalk out, my heart thundering in my chest.
11
ALYSSA
“I’m having you examined.”
Sighing, I swing my legs off the bed. I’m disappointed, sure. But I’ve been expecting this since Uri stormed out of the basement yesterday after I dropped the bombshell.
Why did I blab?
Because, fool that you are, you thought it would bring you closer.
“Doctor.” Uri holds the door open a little wider. At the very least, I’m glad I’ll be able to see Dr. Popov again. But when the doctor enters, it’s not Emily with her kind smile and easy compassion. It’s a somber-faced man in a white coat, followed by grim Bratva soldiers bearing loads of intimidating medical equipment.
“Where’s Emily?” I ask as the men set up the equipment a few feet from the bed.
“She’s indisposed,” Uri answers in a deadpan voice. “This is Dr. Grigory Tasarov.”
Dr. Grigory gives me only a cursory glance. One of the soldiers sets a chair in place next to my bed. The doctor sinks into it, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the charts in his hand.
Uri stands like a gargoyle in the corner, huge and silent, shadows cloaking his face. It’s hard to blame him, but his coldness is grating. I wish for the billionth time that I never told him about the baby at all.
With a sigh, Dr. Grigory looks me in the eye for the first time since he’s walked in. “Alyssa, how are you feeling today?”
“Pretty disappointed, actually,” I say. “And annoyed. And frustrated.”
Uri’s jaw pulses but he doesn’t say anything. The doctor gives me a dour look over the tops of his glasses. “I meant physically.”
I shrug. “Tired. My whole body aches. Probably because I haven’t been allowed any proper exercise since I was first trapped down here.”
Most doctors might view that as “alarming” or, at the very least, “noteworthy.” This one doesn’t bat an eye. I get the feeling he’s seen a lot worse than a hostage in a well-furnished basement getting fed three square meals a day. “How’s your appetite?”
“Nonexistent.”
“But you are eating?”
“Only when Nikolai comes in here and forces me to.”
That, finally, gets a reaction out of Uri. His eyes scour over me as his jaw tightens even further. I’m guessing he didn’t know about Nikolai’s visits.
Interesting.
“Can you lift up your shirt for me?”
I do as I’m told. Despite being only thirteen weeks along, I definitely have a belly. It’s small but it’s there. The doctor presses his fingers against the swell and purses up his lips.
“Well, you’re pregnant.”
I look up at Uri. “You happy now?”
He ignores me. “I want a sonogram done, Doctor. I want to be a hundred percent sure.”
“Do you really think I’ve tricked the doctor, too?” I demand.
Again, he ignores me. Why does that feel so much worse?
The doctor turns on the machine and squirts some of the ultrasound jelly onto my belly. It’s unexpectedly cold and I squirm in place until my body gets used to the substance. I don’t even notice that the screen has lit up with images of my womb.
“Whoa,” I breathe. “Is that my baby?”
The doctor’s eyes are fixed on the screen as he passes the rod up and down my belly. “Well, what have we here…?”
I frown. “Is everything alright?” The panic starts to build higher and higher the longer he delays answering me. My mind starts to spiral. Is there something wrong with my baby? Has all the stress affected the fetus? Should I have eaten more? Did I hurt my own baby before it’s even born?
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
I grab my bracelet and try to draw strength from my Z link. God knows I don’t have the father’s hand to hold, so this will have to suffice.
“It looks like we have twins on our hands.”
My hand drops my bracelet. My jaw drops right along with it. “I’m sorry… Did you just say twins?”
Dr. Grigory turns to me with the first glimmers of a muted smile. “I did. You’re having two babies, Alyssa.”
I let out a breath that comes out as a sob and a gasp all rolled up into one. “I’m a twin,” I say softly.
“It does tend to run in families. Congratulations.”
I can’t rub my belly because of all the ultrasound gunk lathered all over it but I look down at myself and I experience a rare moment of happiness. It’s a welcome respite from the last few weeks.
Twins.
My God.
Ziva, wherever you are… thank you.
“Can you tell if they’re going to be boys or girls?” I ask excitedly.
Dr. Grigory pats my knee. “I’m afraid it’s too early to tell. But another month and we should be able to discern.”