Tangled In Vengeance

Chapter 21: Damien Continued

The weight of the world lifts off my shoulders as the doctor confirms that it was just a graze. No stitches are needed.

I blink as the words 'and the baby' ricochet in my mind like a stray bullet. I'm stunned, speechless. She adds, almost as an afterthought, that Isabella can take over-the-counter painkillers if she needs them. 

Nothing stronger, though, because of the baby. My hands, which have been clenched into fists, slowly relax at my sides. This nightmare could've ended much differently. A surge of fierce protectiveness washes over me. Never again will they be at risk.

"Can I see her?" I manage to ask while keeping my voice steady, though my pulse races with the force of a raging river.

"Yes," she nods, signaling towards the hallway. "Come with me."

I follow as the knot in my chest loosens with each step. A baby. We're having a baby. I pocket away that jolt of joy, hiding it behind the iron façade that has become second nature. 

There will be time for softness later, away from prying eyes, when I can hold her in my embrace.

The hospital room is a stark white sanctuary that I step into. Isabella is sitting in the bed like a vision of resilience filling the hospital room. She looks much better than when I first brought her in. 

The flush of color has returned to her cheeks. Even now, in the aftermath of terror, her beauty is undiminished and perhaps even amplified by the strength she's unknowingly displaying. 

I stride quickly to her bedside as my eyes hungrily take in her form and seek evidence that she's truly unharmed.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine," she manages a soft smile, and her energy is a mere whisper of her usual fire. "It's just a flesh wound, Damien. Really."

Her words, meant to be comforting, stir a storm in me, but one look at her grit and grace and a reluctant laugh escapes me, half in disbelief, half from relief that she's speaking to me. She's alive.

"Every scar, every wound you carry, I carry twice over in my soul. You're cloaked in my shadows, Isabella, protected by my very being. Don't ever doubt that. Are you sure you're fine?" I ask again.

She gives me another small smile. "Yes, I'm sure."

I turn to the doctor with a low and commanding tone. "We need a moment."

My eyes hold a hard edge that brooks no argument. The doctor nods in understanding. Perhaps it's professionalism or the palpable intensity I exude that sways her, but she doesn't hesitate to leave. 

As the door clicks shut, I'm left alone with Isabella, and the silence enveloping us clashes with the chaos of my raging thoughts. Isabella's gaze catches mine with concern etched in her features despite her own ordeal.

"How's Seraphina?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"She's fine," I reassure her, feeling my body tense with the memory of the chaos. "After the shootout, I had Victor escort her home. She's safe, Bella," I tell her.

We sit here in silence, and I feel the chasm of my thoughts besieged with a madness of emotions. The news of her pregnancy lingers in the air between us, an invisible, seismic force that both terrifies and exhilarates me. 

I've never considered fatherhood. My life is filled with danger, and trust has always been a currency too expensive for me to deal out freely, especially to the women I've known.

But Isabella is irrevocably different. I'm falling for her, deeper each day, entangled in her strength and her spirit, envisioning a future I never dared to contemplate. Kids. 

With her, it doesn't just feel possible. It feels right. There's no room for doubt, not even a whisper, that she would be anything less than an incredible mother.

"So, I take it you know," her voice interrupts my thoughts, her tone soft but pointed. "If your silence is anything to go by." I can't help the way my eyes flit away momentarily, caught off-guard by her perceptiveness.

"Yes, the doctor told me," I admit, my voice betraying a fraction of the awe that's swelling in my chest.

 The room feels charged now, electric with the revelation that we're going to be parents. Despite the world's weight on my shoulders and the danger that lurks in the shadows, this single truth shines like a beacon. Our unexpected yet fiercely welcome light in the darkness.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't think about birth control because I was celibate with Jackson. Then you happened, and celibacy went out the window," she says tearfully, her voice a soft echo in the sterile room. "You must feel trapped now."

Picking up her hand, I bring it to my lips, kissing the back of it gently, trying to imbed strength through my touch.

"I feel anything but trapped, Bella," I tell her earnestly, locking my eyes with hers so she sees the truth in them.

"Now, what am I going to do," she murmurs, more to herself than to me. She's gazing at the ceiling, eyes glazed with the turmoil of our situation.

I know the question isn't meant for me, but I answer anyway.

"We'll get married," I say matter-of-factly as if it's the most obvious next step. "I'll have a priest waiting when we get home. My mother and sisters will be there too," I continue, already mapping out the future, making her a promise I intend to keep.