Midnight Oath (Tasarov Bratva 1)

I park in front of the emergency room entrance.

My hands are trembling as I yank the keys out of the ignition and leap out of the car. Isabella is passed out in her chair, her sweet face red with fever.

I expect a team of nurses from inside to notice our arrival and rush out to help, but no one comes.

Even as I wheel Isabella through the doors, no one meets us at the entrance. I have to walk all the way to the nurse’s desk. A middle-aged woman with black hair streaked gray is on the phone, a cup of coffee in her hands.

“Hi, hello,” I say, waving a hand to grab the woman’s attention.

When she looks up, her dark brow is arched in disdain. “Yes?”

“My daughter is… she’s sick,” I say. “She has muscular dystrophy, but this is something else. She has a fever and—”

“Okay, I’ll need you to fill these out,” she says, cutting me off to slide a clipboard across the desk. “There’s a pen there, and you can wait—”

“I can’t wait,” I say. “She’s asleep, but she might be unconscious. I don’t know. She was awake when I loaded her in the car, and now, she isn’t waking up.”

“Have you tried asking her?” she asks, sounding remarkably disinterested.

“I’ve been a little busy getting her inside,” I grit. “But she’s usually a light sleeper. She’d be awake by now if she felt better. I want someone to see her immediately. She’s only six.”

The woman sighs and grabs a pad of paper next to her. “What’s her name? I’ll put her down on a list and have a doctor get to you as soon as they’re available.”

“Her name is Isabella—” I pause. Suddenly, I’m hearing Adrik’s voice in my head.

My name is a shield. It will protect her even when I’m not there.

“Isabella Tasarov,” I finish, lifting my chin proudly.

The woman tenses. She glances up at me, eyes narrowed. “Tasarov, you said?”

I swallow and nod. “That’s right.”

“Just a moment.” She spins away from the desk and practically sprints through a nearby door.

As soon as she’s gone, the panic sets in. Adrik is a powerful man, but he has enemies, too. What if I just put a target on Isabella’s back?

Before I can spiral too far, the door opens again and the woman is accompanied by a younger woman in a white coat. Her dark hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail.

“Mrs. Tasarov,” she says, greeting me with a head nod. “I’m Dr. Garcia, chief of neurology. I’ll be personally handling your daughter’s care tonight. Come with me.”

The next half hour is a blur. But for the first time, I’m allowed to sit back and observe.

Dr. Garcia doesn’t leave Isabella’s side, personally running all the tests and taking samples. When Isabella wakes up, Dr. Garcia calms her, which helps me breathe, too.

The whole time, all I can think is how much I owe to Adrik. He isn’t even here and he’s still taking care of us.

Finally, Dr. Garcia comes back into the room and closes the door behind her.

“The good news is, Isabella is fine,” she says, smiling at us both. “She has a bladder infection, which caused a fever. And the fever led to inflammation of her joints—”

“Which is why her bones hurt?” I asked.

“Exactly,” Dr. Garcia says. “Cold hands and feet can happen with a fever. Her body was drawing heat towards her vital organs and away from her extremities. All very normal.”

I take a deep breath for the first time in what feels like hours. “So she’s fine. Like, actually fine?”

“I have her on a good painkiller and we started her on antibiotics,” she explains. “Give her a dose every twelve hours for the next ten days.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she confirms. “But you did the right thing bringing her in. We’re always happy to help you out if anything arises, Mrs. Tasarov.”

I thank her with a smile. Something tells me she doesn’t say that to everyone who comes through the doors.

“Well, honey,” I say, smoothing Isabella’s hair back so I can kiss her forehead, “are you ready to go?”

She smiles brightly. “I’m ready.”

“You feel better?”

“All better.” She lifts her arm, which is covered in flower stickers. “I got stickers.”

Just like that, my heart melts. It’s doing that a lot these days.

On our way through the lobby, I stop by the front desk again. The middle-aged woman from before is still sitting there, though she’s much more attentive and polite this time around.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” I ask.

“No, Mrs. Tasarov,” she says. “All the paperwork was already taken care of. You’re good to go.”

I frown. “But I didn’t fill out any—”

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s large and warm, and I sink back into the touch instinctively.

“Adrik,” I breathe before I even turn around. “How did you—”

Adrik spins me around and pulls me into a hug. “I was upstairs with my father. The nurses told me you were here. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You were busy.”

He grabs my shoulders and holds me away from him. “Next time, you call me,” he snarls. “I swore I’d keep you safe. I meant it.”

I want to argue with him. I can handle this on my own. I did handle this on my own.

But God, it feels so good to have him standing next to me again. To have someone to lean against.

So I let the argument die on my lips. Instead, I press my face against his chest and breathe in deeply. Breathe him in deeply. “Thank you.”