His eyes flare again. “Wait. Hold on. Let me get this straight. You believe that I slept with your woman as payback for taking pakhan from me?”
Polly opens her mouth to say something but Dimiv grabs her arm and shakes his head. She falls silent while Nikolai grabs one of the cloth napkins off the cake table and grimly wipes away some of the blood on his face.
It smears it around more than it cleans anything. But that’s life these days—we try to clean it, to make things work, and shit just gets messier and messier and bloodier and bloodier. It’s a bit too on the nose, as far as metaphors go, actually.
He drops the napkin in disgust and turns his gaze back on me. “You want to have this conversation now, like this? Fine. There was a time when I was angry and bitter about it. But the moment I took my ego out of it, I was able to see that you were the right choice for pahkan and I wasn’t. I could have challenged you; I could have called for a vote. I did neither. I let you take control because you were more suited for the role than I was.” He spits out more blood and screws his face up in a scowl. “When we lost Mother and Otets, I broke down and you stepped up. Yeah, I was bitter and I was angry. But I was angry at myself.”
His explanation is coming off a lot more sincere than I’d have expected for the kind of man capable of fucking his brother’s woman. And that small kernel of doubt at the back of my head is starting to grow. It’s taking root, throwing up vines that wind their way through me.
“Make no mistake,” Nikolai continues angrily. “I think you’re a pompous, arrogant smart ass who doesn’t listen to or value anyone else’s opinions most of the time. But I do think you’re the perfect pahkan for this Bratva. And I would never dream of challenging you for the mantle or begrudging you for taking it.”
I stand in silence. In the corner of my eye, one of the white roses droops low, weighed down by my brother’s blood.
He takes a step forward and jabs his finger in my chest. “So no, I did not sleep with Alyssa. Nor would I ever do something like that. We are just friends. It’s what we’ve always been and that’s not going to change. Unless you decide to be an asshole about whatever chip has landed on your shoulder today.”
Dimiv takes a step forward. “Cousin,” he intercedes gently, “what put this idea in your head?”
My eyes veer to him. “Grigory told me.”
Nikolai balks. “Grigory told you that I was the father of Alyssa’s babies?!”
“He told me that the DNA and blood tests they took for the babies suggests that I’m not their father, but their father is closely related.”
Nikolai’s eyes swing over to Dimiv. “I don’t understand… Grigory’s been working for the Bugrov Bratva for decades. Why would he lie about something like that?”
The doubt is spreading like a weed now. Those vines reach and poke and prod into every vulnerable part of my brain. If Nikolai is right and Grigory is lying…
“Fuck. Alyssa,” I mutter as I fly out of the chapel.
I’m racing down the hallway towards Alyssa’s room when I spot Elle coming down the corridor from the other end. If she’s here… who’s with Alyssa?
She comes to a standstill when she sees me. Then her eyes narrow into furious slits. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she seethes. “You stress your girlfriend into labor and then you disappear on her when she needs you the most?”
Polly, Dimiv, and Nikolai plow in right behind me. Pol snatches up Elle’s arm. “She’s in labor?”
“They wheeled her away like ten minutes ago!” Elle exclaims. She pauses slightly when her eyes land on Nikolai’s bloody face. “I-I asked if I could go in with her but the doctor refused to let me.”
“Which doctor?”
She frowns. “What do you mean, ‘which doctor’? Your doctor! Alyssa’s doctor. Gregory whatchamacallit.”
“Fuck,” I snarl, running a hand through my hair. “Fuck. Which way did they take her?”
Her frown gets deeper. “That way, I think,” she says, pointing to a nearby set of double doors. “She was in pain. They were taking her to one of the operating rooms to deliver the twins.”
I don’t hesitate. I run straight through those doors, ignoring the sign that reads Access for Medical Staff Only and anyone who dares to ask me what I’m doing here. I’m about to bust right into every last room I can find when I see a doctor emerging from one of them, decked in pale blue scrubs.
I grab her by the shoulders. “My fiancée is delivering right now. Emergency C-section. I need to find her.”
“Sir, you’re not supposed to—”
“Now,” I growl.
Something about my tone must get through to her, because she sighs and her lips purse in distaste. “If you can go back to the waiting room, I’ll find out where she is and—”
“I’m not leaving here until I know where she is. So you can either help me now or I’m going to bust into every single goddamn room until I find her. Dr. Grigory Tasarov is the one delivering the babies.”
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?”