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“But—”

“I don’t have a choice.” His eyes were flint. “You think you can leave your daughter in labor so you can play hero? You’re her father, Stas. She needs you. Your granddaughter needs you. I’m not letting you set foot anywhere but that hospital.”

Another contraction shuddered through Yelena, and she cried out, burying her face in my chest. I held her, feeling her pain like it was inside my bones.

“I love you too much to fucking let you walk into a trap to die,” I said through my teeth.

“Who said anything about dying?”

I clenched my jaw. “You’re asking me to choose between you and my daughter.”

“I’m not.” His voice softened, but his gaze didn’t. “I’m telling you there is no choice. We have two people who need us. You take care of yours. I’ll take care of mine.”

Yelena sobbed again, clutching my arm. “Papa, please⁠—”

The decision slamming into place. “We’re going to the hospital.” I looked at Yuriy. “I’m sending my men with you. They’ll have your back if anything goes wrong. We can get Arty to take you since he’s familiar with the surroundings.”

“Good.” Yuriy nodded briskly, as if we were arranging logistics for a meeting instead of walking him toward a gun barrel. “Tell your men if they disobey me for even a second, I’ll personally gut them and string their intestines as a garland on their Christmas tree.”

Despite everything, a strangled huff of laughter escaped me. “Just come back to me safely.”

Yelena’s phone buzzed with the address, and Yuriy forwarded it to himself. A quick call to Arty and he assured us he would swing by to bring Yuriy to the destination. I fired off a text message to my men, commanding them to watch Yuriy’s six. If anything happened to him on their watch, then they’d better slit their own throats.

Yelena’s packed bag was already in the trunk of her car, which made things a lot easier for me. I reached around her to help her to her feet. “Printsessa. We’re leaving. Can you stand?”

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” she bit out, jaw clenched. “She’s not being born here on the living room rug.”

“That’s my girl.”

I slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and lifted her. She wasn’t heavy, but the way she clung to me made my throat close.

“Door,” I said.

Yuriy was already there, snatching his coat, shrugging into it with quick, efficient movements. He opened the door, and cold air rushed in.

Headlights washed across the snow outside, where our car was waiting at the curb.

“Stas.”

I looked back.

Yuriy stood in the doorway, snow drifting behind him, hair whipping slightly in the winter air. His eyes were on Yelena first, then on me. God, I loved him for that—for also checking on my daughter.

“You get her there safely,” he said quietly. “I’ll do whatever I can to bring Zasha to the hospital so he’s there for the birth of their child.”

“And you. Don’t die. You understand me, Yuriy Orlov. You come back breathing, or I’ll dig you up and kill you myself.”

His mouth curved. “Bossy.”

“Promise me.”

He stepped in close, careful of Yelena between us. Leaned up. Pressed his mouth to mine in a swift, fierce kiss that tasted like spices, desperation, and every good thing I’d never thought I’d have.

“I’ll bring your son-in-law home,” he murmured against my lips. “And I’ll come back to you. That’s a promise, Stanislav.”

Another contraction hit. Yelena whimpered, tightening her fingers in my coat.

“Go.”