Chapter 3

• ARTEMY
• I vowed to stand guard against those demons. I pledged to wage that battle for her, just as I had promised to restore her shattered serenity.
• My chest constricted, and unbidden tears welled in my eyes. It was a rare instance, an unexpected vulnerability.
• Tears. Damn tears. I was allowing them to flow.
• "I'll await your call," Claire murmured before rising from her seat. Nona swiftly took her place, readjusting the towel around Rebecca. With a gentle gesture, she drew the comforter over her, then stepped back.
• Bernadette's gaze was fixed on Rebecca, her usual expressionless visage unchanged. After a brief moment, she departed with Claire, their departure devoid of words.
• Wyatt approached me, his voice gentle. "Can I proceed with stitching you up?"
• In response, I extended my injured leg toward him. As he extracted the bullet and sewed the wound, I clenched my teeth, enduring the searing pain that felt like a relentless fire. Yet, amidst the agony, my attention kept returning to the serene sight of Rebecca sleeping, a balm to my discomfort.
• Caught in her presence, I scarcely acknowledged the needle's prick as Wyatt concluded his work. After scrutinizing his efforts, he placed a fresh bandage over the injury before standing up.
• Wyatt exited the room wordlessly, leaving a concerned Nona to tend to Rebecca, her forehead furrowed with lines of worry.
• My voice almost absent-minded, I inquired, sweeping Rebecca's hair from her face, "How's Lynda?"
• In hushed tones, Nona responded, "She's resting."
• A silent nod from me conveyed my understanding. The weight of all that had transpired hung heavily, and I pondered how we could ever recover from it.
• As I began to draw the comforter over myself, Brayden entered the room. "Painkiller," he muttered, passing me a glass and a handful of pills.
• "What did Wyatt and Claire say?" He queried.
• I shrugged, hastily swallowing the pills. "Rebecca's bruises will heal. Claire mentioned an ultrasound."
• "Artemy, the baby—"
• "Not now," I interrupted, halting him. "I can't dwell on that now. My focus is on Rebecca."
• As I turned away, Brayden sighed audibly. After a pause, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
• Tenderly planting a kiss on Rebecca's forehead, I enveloped her with my arm, pulling her close to my chest. Disregarding the persistent ache in my leg, I closed my eyes.
• "I'm sorry, Angel. For letting you down, for not listening. I don't know if you can forgive me, but I swear I'll never falter again," I murmured in her ear. "You mean everything to me, Rebecca. I just need you to wake up. We'll sort out the rest later. I promise, I won't leave your side," I whispered, my voice laden with emotion.
• Yet, she remained still, not a hint of movement. Her motionlessness felt like a blade stabbing at my heart, an ache for her well-being.
• As the seconds, minutes, and hours ticked away, my resolve wavered. My eyelids grew heavy, and despite my efforts, they refused to stay open.
• A surge of frustration washed over me as my vision blurred and weariness overtook me.
• My hold on Rebecca tightened once more. As darkness swept me into its embrace and my eyes closed, realization dawned.
• That damn bastard. He had drugged me. Foolish sleeping pills.
• ***
• Drowsiness gave way to the fluttering of my eyelids as consciousness slowly seeped in. The world around me was a blur, and I teetered on the edge of wakefulness.
• After a few seconds, my eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight, and I found myself holding Rebecca tightly, her form nestled against mine.
• A surge of alertness shot through me when I noticed my hand resting on her gently curved abdomen. I hesitated, a wave of uncertainty freezing me in place.
• My throat felt parched suddenly, and I swallowed, attempting to dislodge the lump forming there. Gently, I pressed my palm against the roundness beneath it. The towel had slipped away, leaving my hand in direct contact with her skin.
• Her belly was taut, yet surprisingly soft to the touch.
• Fixated on the contrast between my rugged, broad hand and her delicate skin, I marveled at the sight. My palm covered about half of the swell of her stomach, a stark juxtaposition to her enduring beauty, even adorned with faint bruises.
• My gaze lingered on her abdomen, and almost unconsciously, I began tracing small circles with my fingers. As realization dawned upon me, I moved to retract my hand, but an abrupt halt arrested my intentions.
• Wide-eyed, I drew in a sharp breath, a rush of bewilderment coursing through me.
• Something had happened again. Another sensation, more pronounced this time.
• My hand had shifted as I felt it—the movement within her.
• Could it be…?
• Leaning closer, my face mere inches from her belly, I counted the seconds, anticipation building within me.
• Just as doubt started to creep in, it happened again. And again. Each time with more vigor. I recoiled slightly, taken aback by the force of it.
• —
• "Mommy, can I feel the baby?"
• Her hand guided mine to her gently rounded abdomen. Upon contact, I was met with a vigorous kick.
• "She's kicking really hard," I whispered.
• "You used to kick even harder."
• "I was feeling Princess moving."
• —
• Suppressing the surge of unwelcome memories, I placed my hand on Rebecca's pregnant belly once more.
• And there it was again—the movement. A kick, perhaps a punch.
• The baby was active, and I was connected to his activity.
• Without conscious thought, my fingers brushed over the spot where the motion had occurred. "You've finally decided to make yourself known," I murmured, a sense of wonder in my voice.
• A slight tremor passed through her belly, and I watched in awe, completely entranced.
• Emotions swirled within me, a complex blend I struggled to untangle. Dissonance prevailed—resentment for the situation juxtaposed with fascination for the baby's movements.
• The constriction in my chest and the fluttering of my heart told a different story. It wasn't the baby I despised, but the circumstances. Yet, the baby was intrinsically tied to those circumstances.
• The baby's movements interrupted my introspection once again. I withdrew my hand, shaking my head as I glanced up.
• And then I saw them—startlingly beautiful green eyes locked onto mine.
• A beat skipped in my chest, my heart momentarily suspended.
• Those eyes, so longed for, met mine, and in that instant, my breath caught.
• A fragile smile quivered on my lips as I leaned in, drawing closer to her. Her eyes, a shimmering shade of emerald, held a captivating gleam in the morning light. Her black hair sprawled across the pillows as she blinked at me, still drowsy.
• Radiant. She was a vision of divinity, an earthly angel.
• My Rebecca had returned.
• A gentle smile adorned my face as my hand instinctively rose to caress her cheek.
• "Rebecca," I uttered hoarsely, my thumb tenderly gliding over the soft, velvety texture of her skin.
• A subtle warmth enveloped her gaze, and a delicate smile graced her lips like a whispered secret.
• "You... you... have his eyes," she murmured with a voice that held both fragility and significance.
• Her words caught me off guard, her voice a fragile croak that seemed to carry a profound weight. Rebecca was speaking!
• Yet, a cloud of confusion quickly dimmed my elation. "Whose eyes, Angel?" I inquired, my mind struggling to make sense of her cryptic words.
• Silence lingered, my muscles tensing with anticipation. After a beat, she finally continued, her voice as soft as a breeze, "A... Ar... Artemy."
• What?
• "Rebecca, what are you talking about? It's me, Artemy. I am Artemy," I protested, my perplexity deepening. And then, unexpectedly, she closed her eyes.
• "No, no, no," panic surged within me. "Angel, open your eyes. Come on, reveal those beautiful green eyes."
• But my pleas fell short. Barely catching a glimpse of her eyes, I yearned for her to stay awake, to hear her voice. I was ready to beg, to discard any semblance of dignity for that one connection.
• All that mattered was her, in that moment of desperation. "Angel," I implored, my grip on her shoulders growing urgent. "Please, say something."
• Stillness prevailed; she remained unmoved.
• Had I missed her awakening? Had I been asleep during her conscious moments?
• How could I have been so recklessly negligent?
• This time, sleep was out of the question. I resolved to keep my eyes open, vigilant against the encroaching darkness.
• My heartbeat raced like a caged bird's wings, its frantic rhythm a reflection of my own feeling of captivity and suffocation.
• I felt as though I was an outsider, observing events from a distant vantage point. Rebecca appeared distant, slipping away each time I tried to reach for her amidst the shadows.
• She faded relentlessly, and I was left with an overwhelming void.
• No!
• Gently, I clasped her hand within mine, pouring out words as time stretched on.
• I pleaded for her awakening, for absolution, for her love.
• Promises flowed, commitments to safeguard and cherish her.
• Despite my coaxing, my urging, my relentless pushing, Rebecca remained still, untouched by my efforts.