Page 150 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

Her due date had been today. I had spent months getting ready—birth plan, backup routes, go-bag. I'd even forced Feodor to run damn drills.

Not one plan mentioned my heart would stop working the second the contractions started.

Elena watched me for a few seconds, her face softening. "You're scared."

"No."

"Your hand's shaking."

I looked down. The hand around her waist wasn't steady. Not even close.

"That's because you won't let me hold you."

"Bullshit."

She leaned into me anyway. Her young, soft body snapped tight when the next wave hit. I braced her lower back. "Breathe with me."

"I know."

"In. Hold. Now slow—"

"Kiryan." She fisted my shirt. "If you keep quoting those baby books, I'm gonna bite you."

The next second, warm fluid ran down her leg and splashed onto the floor.

She glanced down. "I think we're out of time."

I scooped her up and moved.

"I'm not wearing shoes."

"Don't need them."

Olga came rushing over with the bag, gray hair flying loose. "How far apart now?"

"Seven minutes," Elena said.

"Six twenty," I corrected.

Elena buried her face in my neck, shoulders shaking.

I lifted her higher. "Hurting bad?"

"No," she muttered. "Your face is hilarious."

The car rolled out of the manor.

Every contraction drove her nails deeper into my palm. Her eyes shone with tears, but she stayed sharp. Present.

"Look at me." I slowed my breathing, made her match it. "You're gonna be fine."

"The doctor said everything looked normal."

"I know."

"Then quit looking like you're about to kill somebody."

We got to the hospital. Everything checked out.