Valka
Lilith comes tearing into the room, eyes-wide, chest heaving. The physician is bent over me, a man in his late-fifties, brows furrowed in concentration.
Rafael stepped out a moment ago, because apparently I now reek because I'm pregnant, leaving me alone with the male.
I'm pregnant.
Somewhere, beneath the ribs that cage me, something lives.
My fingers curl with th need to touch my stomach, feel it, but the binds won't let me.
My throat burns. The thought of Lucien, of this, of this child, another chance at the worst possible time, unravels me. He should be here. He should have been the first to know. To laugh, to touch me there, to whisper some fool promise about protecting what we made.
I swallow a sob, biting on my bottom lip until it bleeds as I watch the physician's fingers move adeptly back and forth between my stomach and my pulse.
