The Don And His Flower

16

Valis held Imani.

The gun fire continued, glass breaking as footsteps pounded through the echoed gunshots.

He swore, calling for help as he tried to console his woman.

The tears were falling, chest heaving as the need of sleep was taking her. He sniffled, on his knees as he felt the single flutter inside her lower belly.

There wasn't another.

His throat was dry. Wet stained hand tried to push into the small wound, hoping the sudden shake will give him another flutter. Nothing.

He shook her belly again. Nothing.

No.

"Sir."

He looked at the Family doctor that had rushed in, giving him the assumption that Imani's captors were all dead. Valis carefully listened to the elder man, gloved hands replacing his as he looked at a half dead Imani. "Flower."

"It hurts. It hurts." She cried, weak arms fighting to hold her own stomach.

A sudden gasp and clench of her body made her fall unconscious. Valis felt the world swirl around him. Faint heartbeat against his palm as he held Imani, eyes on the doctor as he suddenly held the remains of what he knew to be his child.

So many blackouts.

Every time he blinked his eyes, he found himself somewhere else.

First it was in the neglected room, watching the doctor carefully box up the small cord that remained connected to his deceased child. He watched the fragile fetus remain unmoving, covered by a small cloth.

He blinked.

He was in the backseat of a SUV. Crying into Imani's chest as stitches decorated her scarred skin.

He blinked.

Valis swung his arms. Trying to fight off his own soldiers as they separated the man from his woman, giving the doctors more space to work on her convulsing body.

The seizures hit her hard, Valis trying and failing as he was held down to the concrete. When did they get home? How long has it been?

He blinked again.

Sitting in fresh clothes. Holding on to the weak hand of his woman, Imani. Quivering lips against her fingertips.

Missing.

That was the word he was given when he retraced his thoughts, remembering when he asked about his father.

Several stitches and bandages all over her body. She was tended to by multiple doctors that Valis Kholodov had nearby in one of the suvs during the ambush.

Now, the long silence was only longer as he sat in his room. His eyes look at the watered blood in the bucket next to his bed.

So much blood.

All of it, belonging to Imani Milton.

He listened to Nikolai. His shuddered voice, soft as he himself tried to contain his emotions at the sight of Imani.

Their father was now missing. Hiding was the better substitution to describe it all.

Like a coward, afraid of consequences. Desperate for power and greed, the Don was hiding. The eldest heard the door shut, eyes stinging once again as he looked at his best friend.

Another hour passed as the door received another knock. Lorenzo Russi slowly comes in, red and white roses in his hand as he settled them down with a soft curse.