The sanctuary

I gave a small, defeated nod against Mason's chest, too exhausted and in too much pain to argue anymore. Every breath felt like swallowing shards of ice, and the heavy throb in my palm pulsed in time with the roaring in my ears.

"Okay," I whispered, the word barely a breath against his coat. "Let's go."

Mason didn't hesitate. With a careful, solid grip, he scooped his arms beneath me and lifted me up, carrying me so I wouldn't have to force my battered body onto my feet just yet. The sudden movement made the world tilt and white spots dance across my vision, but I bit down hard on my split lip to keep from crying out.

Lincoln took the lead, the heavy hunting knife ready in his grip, his eyes constantly scanning the dark, snow-draped pines for any sign of movement.

Nikolai fell in beside Mason, his hand coming up to steady my back, his presence a wall of heat and lethal focus cutting through the freezing wind.

We slipped into the thickening shadows of the Russian forest. The snow crunched softly beneath their boots, each step a deliberate push forward through the deep, biting cold. Every jolt sent fresh waves of agony through the back of my skull and the makeshift bandage on my hand, but I buried my face against Mason's shoulder, focusing entirely on the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart and the promise of the sanctuary waiting just beyond the ridge.

The trees grew denser the further we climbed, their dark branches knitting together overhead to block out what little grey light was left in the sky. The wind lost some of its howling edge down here among the trunks, but the cold settled in deeper, a heavy, biting dampness that clung to skin and fabric alike.

I kept my eyes closed, my face pressed tight against the rough wool of Mason's coat. The steady, heavy rhythm of his breathing and the solid warmth of his body were the only things anchoring me as the world blurred into a haze of pain and exhaustion. Every jolt of his stride sent a hot spike of agony through my palm and the back of my skull, but I forced myself to stay quiet, biting down on my lip until I tasted salt and fresh blood.

Ahead, Lincoln's silhouette paused against a wall of grey rock.

"We're at the ridge," Lincoln called back, his voice low and sharp. "The cut-through is fifty yards up. Another ten minutes and we hit the perimeter fence."

Nikolai reached out, his gloved hand coming down firmly on Mason's shoulder to steady him as the ground sloped upward. "How is she?" Nikolai asked, his dark eyes dropping to where I clutched my bandaged hand against my chest.

"Holding on," Mason muttered, his arms tightening around me as he shifted his grip to make the final incline easier. "Just keep moving. She's running out of time."

I managed a weak, fluttering breath, my fingers curling into the fabric of Mason's coat. The thought of a bed, a doctor, and walls that didn't let the wind through felt like a fantasy, something on the other side of a wall I wasn't sure my body had the strength to climb. But as Nikolai's hand moved to support my back, pushing us forward through the snow, I forced another shallow breath past my lips and let them carry me into the dark.

"I'm really sleepy," I mumbled, the words sliding together in a heavy, disconnected blur as my chin dipped toward Mason's chest.

Mason's stride faltered for a fraction of a second before he caught his footing on the icy slope. His grip on me tightened into a desperate, anchoring pressure.

"I know," Mason murmured, his voice thick and rough against the crown of my head. "You can keep your eyes closed every now and then, but I'll make sure that you haven't fallen asleep. We just have to keep you awake until we get inside and make sure you don't have a concussion."

Nikolai stepped closer, his hand sliding from my back to cup the side of my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheekbone. His dark eyes burned with fierce intensity in the dim light, locking onto mine the second my lids fluttered.

"Hear that?" Nikolai demanded softly, his tone laced with a raw, desperate edge that brooked no argument. "You can rest your eyes, but you keep listening to my voice. What's the first thing you're going to do when we get inside?"

I let out a weak, breathy huff that hitched painfully in my throat.

"Sleep..." I managed, my voice trailing off as the heavy fog rolled back in. "...Just sleep for a year."

"Good," Nikolai said, his hand lingering warm against my skin, refusing to let me slip away. "You can sleep as long as you want once you are clear. But you have to stay with me until we cross that gate. Can you do that for me?"

I gave a tiny, sluggish nod against his palm, forcing my breathing to stay steady as Lincoln pushed through the final cluster of snow-heavy pine branches ahead.

The cold wind bit hard at my face, but the numbness was spreading faster, heavy and suffocating. I forced my eyes open a fraction, the blurry shapes of the snowy pines swimming in my vision. I didn't look at them I couldn't,

"Mason... Lincoln..." I breathed, the words tasting like ash and iron.

Mason's arms tightened instantly, his head dipping lower so he could hear me over the wind. "I'm here, sweetheart. Keep talking to me."

"I... I haven't told you," I whispered, a fresh tear slipping hot down my cheek, breaking through the crust of dried blood. "I haven't told you... or maybe I didn't get the chance... but I'm... I was..."

I swallowed hard, my voice cracking completely. "When he... when he was hitting me... I started bleeding. And he... he saw it, and he got grossed out. That's... that's what made him stop."

The words hung in the freezing air, fragile and horrifying.

Mason's stride came to an abrupt, dead stop. The breath left his lungs in a sharp, ragged hiss, his entire body going rigid beneath me. Beside us, Lincoln froze mid-step, his head snapping toward me in the dim light, the color draining completely from his face as the implication slammed into him.

Nikolai's hand went completely still against my cheek. He didn't look surprised he already knew, the silent horror of it having weighed on him since the shed but the raw agony in his dark eyes deepened into something murderous.

"What?" Mason choked out, his voice cracking violently, shaking with a sudden, seismic fury that made his arms tremble around me. "What did you just say?" As though the pieces were clicking.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a fresh sob tearing through my raw throat as the reality of it settled like lead in my chest.

"I was..." I whispered, the words shaking so hard they barely carried over the wind. "I am... or I was. I don't know."

I swallowed hard, pressing my face tighter against Mason's coat to block out the freezing world. "I started bleeding. Real heavy. And he... he saw it, and he got grossed out. He let go and backed away like I was sick. That's... that's what made him stop. He just kept hitting me when I wouldn't let him do what he wanted.

A bitter, broken breath hitched in my chest. "I was bleeding, so... probably not anymore."

Mason's arms locked around me so tightly it knocked the remaining wind from my lungs, but I didn't care. The fierce, trembling pressure of his body was the only thing keeping me from shattering completely. A low, animal sound tore from his throat a mixture of profound grief and a rage so dark it felt seismic.

Lincoln dropped to one knee beside us in the snow, his hunting knife slipping from his numb fingers with a soft thud. His hand came up, trembling as he cupped my uninjured cheek, his thumb brushing a tear away with a gentleness that broke something inside me.

"Look at me," Lincoln choked out, his voice cracking, tears finally spilling over his own lashes. "We're going to get you inside. We're going to get the medical wing, and they are going to take care of you. Do you hear me?"

Nikolai's dark eyes burned with a lethal, absolute fury, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped violently. He didn't say a word, but the promise in his look was clear: whoever had done this wouldn't live to see the sunrise.

"We're almost at the gate," Mason rasped, his voice thick with unshed tears as he forced his legs to move again, carrying me forward through the snow. "Hold on for me. Just hold on."

Ahead through the veil of falling snow, the imposing wrought-iron perimeter fence of the sanctuary loomed out of the dark, flanked by the heavy timber gates of the security checkpoint.

Lincoln lunged forward, breaking into a desperate run through the drifts, his boots pounding against the frozen earth as he reached the intercom box mounted on the stone pillar. He smashed his gloved hand down on the call button, his voice raw and frantic as he shouted into the speaker.

"Open the damn gates! Medical emergency! Code black, bring a gurney to the perimeter now!"

Through the static, a startled voice crackled back, but Lincoln didn't wait for permission or confirmation. He hauled heavily on the emergency manual override lever, throwing his entire weight against the iron bars until the heavy gate groaned and slowly ground inward.

Mason carried me through the opening, his breathing coming in ragged, painful gasps from the exertion and the sheer, boiling fury eating him alive from the inside out. Within seconds, the crunch of fast-moving footsteps echoed from the paved courtyard beyond. Bright emergency lights flared to life overhead, cutting harsh beams through the swirling snow as two medics and a security guard came sprinting out of the main medical wing building, wheeling a mobile trauma bed between them.

"Here! Put her here!" the lead medic shouted, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood soaking through Mason's coat and my makeshift hand bandage.

Mason gently lowered me onto the cold vinyl mattress of the gurney, but his arms didn't want to let go. His fingers were locked white into the fabric of my jacket until Lincoln stepped in, placing a firm, trembling hand on Mason's shoulder to pull him back just enough for the medics to work.

"Let them work, Mace. We have to let them work,"

Lincoln choked out, his own voice cracking as he stepped back, though his eyes never left my face.

Mason stood frozen at the edge of the light, his dark coat stained with dark crimson, his expression entirely stripped of humanity. As the medics threw open supply cases and began cutting away my ruined clothes to assess the damage, he turned sharply on his heel, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register that made the nearest guard flinch.

"Lock down the perimeter," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the dark treeline we had just escaped from. "And get my weapons. We're going back out."

Panic clawed up my throat, sharp and suffocating, the second the medic's heavy shears sliced through the fabric of my jacket.

"No—wait, stop!" I gasped, thrashing weakly against the mattress as the cold air hit my skin. Tears spilled hot down my cheeks, the shame and raw agony crashing over me all at once. "Don't look, please... just leave it."

"Hold her gentle, keep her still," the lead medic urged, his face pale as he pulled the ruined cloth back look at the raw damage under my shirt briefly.

The harsh overhead lights exposed the full, horrifying extent of the damage. Deep, purple-black bruising mapped the entire span of my ribs and stomach where the boots and fists had landed, crisscrossed with angry, swollen welts and dried blood.

Mason let out a choked, broken sound, stepping forward as if to shield me, while Lincoln turned his face away, his hands balling into fists so tight his knuckles bled.

Nikolai didn't look away. His eyes scanned the extensive trauma across my torso, his jaw clenching with a cold, terrifying fury. But beneath the rage, professional instinct took over.

"Step aside," Nikolai ordered, his voice dropping into an absolute, clinical authority that brook no argument. He pushed past the hesitating medic, pulling a pair of sterile latex gloves from the trauma kit with practiced speed. "I'm helping. I'm a physician."

The medic blinked, instantly yielding space to the terrifying man who carried the weight of the compound. "Her vitals are crashing—pulse is weak, bp is dropping. She's going into shock."

"I know," Nikolai said, his hands moving with rapid, precise calm as he assessed the swelling across my abdomen. He pressed his fingers down with agonizing gentleness, checking for internal trauma, before his eyes darkened further.

He looked up at the lead medic, his voice dangerously low. "She was pregnant. The trauma and the hemorrhage indicate a threatened or complete loss, but we can't guess. Bring the portable ultrasound machine. Now."

The medic scrambled, wheeling the compact ultrasound cart over with hurried efficiency. The monitor's screen flickered to life, casting a harsh, pale blue glow across Nikolai's face as he squeezed the cold acoustic gel onto the probe.

My breath hitched, a fresh wave of panic and raw grief making my chest heave. I tried to pull away, my uninjured hand clawing blindly at the edge of the mattress.

"No," I sobbed, the denial ripping out of me like a physical wound. "Don't... I don't want to see. Just stop."

"Look at me," Nikolai commanded, his voice softening just enough to anchor me, though his hands remained entirely steady. He placed the warm, gloved palm of his left hand against my less bruised cheek, forcing my tear-filled eyes up to meet his dark, resolute gaze. "I'm right here. Whatever we find, we face it together. Just breathe."

With agonizing gentleness, Nikolai pressed the probe against the swollen, bruised skin of my lower abdomen, his eyes instantly locking onto the monochrome image taking shape on the monitor screen.

Mason stepped closer, his chest heaving, his hand hovering inches away as if he were terrified that touching me might break me completely. Lincoln stood like a statue at the foot of the gurney, his face drained of all color, staring at the screen with bated breath.

For a terrifying, endless second, nobody moved. The only sound in the sterile room was the frantic, mechanical beep of the heart monitor and the quiet hum of the machine.

Nikolai's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking violently in his cheek as he angled the probe slightly, tracking the shadows on the display.

The silence in the room stretched thin and agonizing, broken only by the rapid, frantic beeps of the heart monitor and the quiet hum of the machine.

Nikolai's gaze remained fixed on the glowing screen, his thumb continuing its slow, steady stroke across my cheekbone. Slowly, his dark eyes shifted up from the monitor, meeting mine with a heavy, sorrowful gravity that answered the question before he even spoke.

"There's... fluid accumulation and significant trauma to the uterine lining," Nikolai said, his voice carefully controlled, stripped of all clinical detachment. He set the probe down gently on the tray. "The gestational sac has detached. We're looking at a complete spontaneous miscarriage."

The words dropped into the sterile room like lead stones.

A sharp, broken sob tore from my throat, and I curled inward, desperately trying to shield my battered body as the finality of it crushed down on me.

Mason dropped hard to his knees beside the gurney, burying his face against my uninjured hand as his shoulders shook with silent, tearing grief. Lincoln closed his eyes, a single tear cutting a clean path through the dirt and sweat on his cheek before he turned away, his fist slamming once against the metal doorframe with a dull, echoing thud.

Nikolai stripped off his bloody gloves, tossing them into the waste bin before leaning over me, his arms coming around my shoulders to pull me gently against his chest, refusing to let me drown in the dark.

"We've got you," Nikolai murmured against my hair, his voice breaking for the first time. "You're safe now."

"I'm sorry," I choked out, the words dissolving into a broken, breathless wail as I clutched blindly at the front of Nikolai's coat. "I'm so, so sorry..."

Nikolai's arms tightened around me instantly, his hands pressing me closer against his chest. "Shh, don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this—"

"No, you don't understand," I sobbed, my voice rising in a frantic, desperate spiral of guilt as I shook my head against his shoulder. "If I had just... if I could actually speak Russian if I learned from you guys, I would have been able to answer what he was asking me. I wouldn't have just stood there freezing up. If I could understand them and answer their questions, maybe none of this would have happened... and the baby would still be here."

The agonizing confession hung in the sterile air, raw and suffocating.

Mason raised his head from where he knelt beside the gurney, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. He reached up, his trembling hand gently catching my face and forcing me to look at him, stopping the frantic spiral.

"Hey. Look at me," Mason ordered, his voice thick, cracked, and fiercely tender as he brushed his thumb across my cheek. "It didn't matter. We told them from the start that you didn't speak a word of Russian. They knew the whole time that you couldn't understand what they were saying, and whether you could answer their questions or not was completely insignificant to them. They were going to hurt you regardless. We told them about the journal in your bag they just didn't believe us.

Lincoln stepped in close, dropping down beside Mason to press his hand over mine, his jaw set hard against his own grief. "Mace is right," Lincoln choked out, his voice rough with emotion. "You didn't cause this by not knowing the language. They were hunting us, and they didn't care what you could or couldn't say. Don't you ever dare blame yourself for this."

Nikolai let out a slow, steadying breath, his professional composure firmly locking back into place as he gently eased me back against the pillow.

"Alright," Nikolai said, his tone shifting into the calm, authoritative cadence of a physician. He turned to the lead medic waiting anxiously at his side. "Let's move fast. I need a local anesthetic, suture kit, and sterile dressing for her right hand first. The lacerations and the crushing injury to the palm need immediate repair before infection sets in."

The medic nodded sharply, snapping open a fresh tray of instruments while another nurse stepped forward with a penlight to handle the neurological check.

"Pupils are equal and reactive, but sluggish," the nurse reported, gently lifting my chin. "Definitely a mild concussion, keeping an eye out for delayed pressure symptoms."

"We will be monitoring her vitals every two minutes," Nikolai instructed, his gloved hands moving with practiced precision as he swabbed the deep, jagged cuts across my torn palm. The sharp, stinging burn of the antiseptic made me hiss, and Mason instantly caught my uninjured hand, lacing his fingers tightly through mine to anchor me through the pain.

"I've got you, sweetheart. Just breathe through it," Mason murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles.

He didn't bother with the Russian as though he knew it might trigger me.

Working side by side with the medical staff, Nikolai didn't miss a beat. Once my hand was thoroughly cleaned, numbed, and expertly stitched closed with fine sutures, he moved on to systematically assess the rest of the damage. With clinical efficiency, they treated the angry scrapes and deep contusions mapped across my arms and shoulders, applying soothing antibiotic ointments and sterile wraps where the skin had been broken by the brutal assault.

Lincoln stood watch near the foot of the gurney, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fierce and protective as every bandage was applied.

"The ribs are deeply bruised, possibly hairline fractured from the kicks, but there's no immediate flail chest or internal bleeding from the sonogram so that's very good,"

Nikolai said quietly, stripping off his bloodied gloves once the final dressing was secured. He pulled a heavy woolen blanket up over my chest, tucking it snugly around my shoulders to chase away the lingering chill. "She's physically stabilized for now. But she needs complete rest, IV fluids, and observation for the concussion and the miscarriage."

I let my eyes slip closed, the exhaustion finally pulling me down into a heavy, unbroken dark as the familiar, solid weight of the men around me kept the rest of the world at bay.

As the medical team finished securing the final bandage, the door to the trauma suite clicked open. One of the nurses stepped back inside, carrying a neatly folded stack of soft, oversized gray loungewear and a warm fleece blanket.

"Let's get her out of these ruined clothes," the nurse said gently, offering a sympathetic, reassuring smile.

Mason and Lincoln stepped forward immediately. With slow, agonizing care, they helped the nurses gently slide the blood-soaked, torn fabric away from my battered skin, shielding me as best as they could from the harsh light. Nikolai stepped in to assist with the more sensitive areas around my injured ribs and abdomen, his movements precise and feather-light so as not to trigger another spike of pain.

Once the dried blood and grime were carefully washed away with warm, sterile cloths, they helped me slip my arms into the clean, soft fabric of the loungewear. The heavy, warm clothes felt like armor against my aching skin, bringing a tiny measure of comfort to the freezing room.

With the heavy weight of exhaustion pulling relentlessly at my eyelids, I looked up at Nikolai, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Can I... can I finally lay back down?"

Nikolai's expression softened completely, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

"Yeah sweetheart," Nikolai murmured, correcting himself softly with a faint, tired ghost of a smile as he adjusted the pillows behind me. "You can lay back down. We'll wake you up in a little bit, though—gotta keep checking on that concussion."

I didn't need to be told twice. As my head sank into the crisp white pillow, the darkness rushed in, swallowing the hum of the monitors and the quiet murmurs of the men until I finally drifted into a deep sleep.

When my eyelids finally fluttered open again, the harsh fluorescent lights of the medical bay had been dimmed to a soft, warm glow. The room was quiet, save for the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Mason was sitting in a chair pulled right up beside the gurney, his head bowed with exhaustion, while Lincoln and Nikolai stood near the doorway speaking in low, hushed tones.

Hearing the shift in my breathing, Mason's head snapped up instantly. Relief washed over his tired face as he leaned forward, gently resting his hand over mine.

"Hey," Mason whispered, his voice raspy. "Look who's back. How are you feeling?"

Before I could answer, a nurse gently wheeled a small tray over to the bedside, setting it down on the over-bed table. The rich, savory scent of warm chicken broth and soft toast drifted up, but my stomach immediately turned at the mere sight of it.

"I brought you a little something to eat," the nurse said kindly. "Just a few sips of broth to get some strength back."

I swallowed hard, turning my head away from the tray as a wave of nausea hit me.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, my voice weak and small against the pillows.

Mason immediately picked up on the shift in my expression. He reached over, gently pulling the tray away from the bed with a quiet scrape of metal against the rolling stand.

"It's alright, you don't have to force it we will try again a a couple hours," Mason murmured, his thumb brushing reassuringly over the back of my hand. He looked up at the nurse, who gave an understanding nod and quietly stepped back toward the nurses' station.

Across the room, Nikolai and Lincoln stopped their low-voiced conversation. Nikolai walked over, his dark eyes scanning my face with the practiced eye of a physician as he stepped up to the side of the gurney.

"How's the head?" Nikolai asked softly, resting a hand on the metal rail of the bed. "Any dizziness, or is the room still spinning when you focus?"

"It's just heavy," I whispered, blinking sluggishly against the dim light. The dull, persistent throbbing behind my eyes was still there, but the blinding, sharp edge of the pain had dulled into a steady ache. "Everything feels like it's underwater."

"That's to be expected," Nikolai replied, his tone reassuring. He picked up the penlight from the tray, clicking it on to check my pupils once more. "Your pupils are reacting better this time. The concussion protocol is working, but you're going to be sleeping in short bursts for a while longer."

Lincoln leaned against the foot of the gurney, his arms crossed over his chest, though the fierce tension in his shoulders had eased just a fraction. "She's been through hell today. Let her rest."

"I know," Nikolai said, switching off the penlight and tucking it into his pocket. He looked down at me, his gaze softening. "We're just keeping a close eye on you. Do you need anything else for the pain, or can I get you some ice chips?"

I shook my head slowly against the pillow, feeling the deep, bone-weary exhaustion pull at me again. "No. Just... stay here."

"We're not going anywhere," Mason promised, squeezing my hand tightly as the heavy fog began to roll back in, pulling me under once more.

The fog of sleep was dragging me back under, the edges of my vision blurring, but a sudden, sharp memory cut through the haze. Masons earlier words his cold, lethal promise to grab his weapons and go back out into the tree-line flashed behind my closed eyelids like a warning flare.

Panic spiked hot and fast in my chest.

My eyes flew open, wide and frantic. With a strength I didn't know I had left, I lurched forward, my fingers clawing desperately at the fabric of Mason's shirt to stop him before he could move away.

"Don't," I choked out, my voice cracking raw and terrified as I looked between all three of them. "Please... none of you. None of you go back out there."

Mason turning back slowly to me. The dark, murderous resolve that had hardened his features earlier flickered, replaced by surprise as he met my wide, pleading eyes.

"They hurt you," he said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register, the ice returning to his tone. "They don't get to breathe after what they did."

"I know," I sobbed, tears spilling over my lashes again as my breath hitched painfully in my bruised ribs. "I know what they did. But I can't... I can't risk losing any of you, too."

The confession hung heavily in the sterile air, echoing off the white walls.

"If you all go out there looking for a war, and something happens to you... if I lose Nikolai, or Mason, or you, Lincoln, on top of everything else today..." I swallowed hard, my lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "I won't survive it. Please. Just stay here. Stay with me."

The room went dead silent. The frantic beeping of the heart monitor seemed to slow, matching the heavy, collective intake of breath from the three men.

Mason's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

"You're not going to lose us, sweetheart," Mason whispered, his voice thick with a fierce, unwavering devotion. "We're right here."

Lincoln stepped in closer on my other side, his hand coming up to gently cover mine where it clutched Mason's shirt. "We're not going anywhere," Lincoln echoed, his voice steady and absolute. "None of us."

Nikolai walked back to the side of the gurney, the dark fury in his eyes finally melting away into a profound, aching gentleness. He reached down, his large, warm hand covering my trembling fingers.

"We stay," Nikolai promised quietly, his gaze locked onto mine with an unshakeable vow for all of them. "We're right here with you. Rest."

My fingers tightened convulsively around the fabric of Mason's shirt, the lingering terror clawing at my throat as I searched their faces, desperate to pin them down to an absolute certainty.

"So you promise?" I whispered, my voice cracking raw and small as fresh tears spilled over my lashes. "You promise... not to go down there?"

The silence stretched over the room, heavy and absolute.

Mason was the first to move. He brought both of his hands up to cup my face, his thumbs gently wiping away the wet trails on my cheeks, his gaze steady, fierce, and entirely devoted.

"I promise," Mason answered without a single second of hesitation, his voice a low, solemn vow against my skin. "No retaliation, no hunting them down. My only priority is right here."

Lincoln stepped in tighter, pressing his hand firmly over mine where it rested against Mason's chest, his jaw set with quiet, unyielding resolution. "I promise, too," Lincoln said, his tone dropping into a fierce, protective anchor. "We are not chasing ghosts. We're staying right here."

Finally, Nikolai let out a slow, heavy breath, the last remaining trace of lethal ice vanishing from his dark eyes. He leaned over the side of the gurney, covering our hands with his own large, steady palm.

"You have my word," Nikolai murmured, his voice rich with an immovable gravity. "No one is leaving. We are staying right here with you, always. Now, close your eyes and let it go. We've got you."

The overwhelming weight of their promises settled over me, slow and steady, finally easing the tight, crushing band around my ribs. With their hands anchored to mine, the dark, protective fog of exhaustion rolled back in, and I let myself sink into the safety of it, knowing they weren't going anywhere.

The deep, thumping ache in my chest had started to dull, but a sudden, sharp spike of fire flared up at the end of my arm, slicing through the heavy fog of exhaustion.

I let out a small, miserable whimpering sound, my body tensing as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"My hand," I breathed out, the words trembling and thin as a fresh wave of throbbing pain radiated up my wrist. "It... it hurts."

Mason was instantly alert, shifting closer while keeping careful not to jostle my ribs. He looked down at my bandaged hand, his face tightening with instant empathy. "Is it the stitches? Do you feel it burning?"

"It feels like it's on fire," I whispered, a tear escaping to slip down my temple into the pillow.

Nikolai immediately stepped forward, his physician instincts taking over once more as he gently reached out to check the tension of the clean white wraps.

"The local anesthetic is starting to wear off, and the swelling is putting pressure on the tissue," Nikolai explained calmly, though his eyes were full of deep concern. He glanced at the nurse standing a few feet away. "Prep a mild dose of intravenous pain management, and bring an extra ice pack for the wrist."

"I've got you, sweetheart," Mason murmured, leaning down to press a tender, lingering kiss to my forehead while Lincoln gently smoothed back my hair. "Just hold on a second. Help is right here."

The cool sting of the intravenous medication began to work its way up my arm, taking the jagged edge off the fire in my hand, but a heavier, more painful ache settled deep in my chest.

I stared up at the dim ceiling, the lingering silence in the room feeling fragile and weighted with everything we weren't saying. My throat felt tight, the question burning on the tip of my tongue until I couldn't keep it swallowed down any longer.

"How..." My voice came out cracked and weak, barely audible over the hum of the monitors. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look between the three of them. "How would you guys have felt... if I was still pregnant? If I didn't lose the baby?"

Mason froze, his hand halting its steady stroke over my knuckles. Lincoln's jaw tightened, and Nikolai went completely still, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, intense gravity.

"Would you have been happy?" I whispered, fresh tears finally breaking free to slide hot down my temples. "If we... if we were actually going to have a baby?"

Mason was the first to move, his breath catching sharply as he leaned in closer, his thumb trembling against my skin. "Happy?" Mason repeated, his voice thick, rough, and fierce with emotion. "God, sweetheart... we would have moved mountains. Every single one of us."

Lincoln swallowed hard, his eyes unspeakably tender as he gripped the edge of the gurney. "It would have terrified us, knowing what we do and the lives we live," Lincoln admitted, his voice rough and completely honest. "We would have torn the world apart to keep you both safe. There is no world where we wouldn't have wanted that."

Nikolai stepped in, his expression softening into something devastatingly tender. He reached out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek with the back of his thumb. "Mason's right. You didn't even know yet, but Nikolai... Nikolai figured it out before I even realized it myself," I choked out, my lower lip trembling as the guilt resurfaced. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't even know for sure, but I should have..."

Nikolai shook his head instantly, cutting me off before the spiral could take hold. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against my uninjured hand.

"Don't you dare apologize for that," Nikolai murmured, his voice a low, steady anchor against my skin. "You didn't know, and you had no reason to suspect with everything else happening. I only pieced it together because of the puking and the fatigue presentation. You carry zero blame here."

"He's right," Mason whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "No apologies. We're here now. Just focus on healing."

I let out a long, shuddering exhale, the tension finally beginning to drain out of my muscles as the IV pain meds pulled a thick, heavy blanket over the remaining agony in my hand.

The weight of their words settled deep into my bones, warm and steady against the cold sterility of the room. I didn't have to carry the what-ifs alone; they were holding the heavy end of it right beside me.

"Okay," I whispered, my eyelids drooping dangerously low as the exhaustion pulled me back toward the dark. "I'm... I'm staying right here."

"Good girl," Nikolai murmured, his hand resting warm and heavy over my uninjured knuckles.

Mason shifted closer, his shoulder pressing a solid, comforting line against the side of the gurney, while Lincoln remained stationed like a silent sentinel at the foot of the bed. With their presence wrapping around me like a shield, the sharp edges of the day finally dulled away, and I let myself drift into the quiet dark, safe in the circle of the men who refused to let me fall.