Chapter 7
Vincent dropped to both knees on the hardwood floor, completely unconcerned with ruining his bespoke suit.
He gently cupped my face in his large, warm hands, his dark eyes filling with rare, painful emotion.
“Lena,” my father whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “I am here, my child.”
“Dad...” I sobbed, pressing my face into his hand. “My baby... something is wrong.”
Vincent instantly looked over his shoulder at the lead tactical commander standing near the door.
“Dr. Mercer, front and center now!” Vincent commanded, his voice echoing like thunder.
A female trauma surgeon in tactical scrubs rushed out of the elevator holding a silver medical kit.
She dropped to her knees beside me, immediately placing a portable ultrasound probe over my bare stomach.
“Heartbeat is rapid but strong, Mr. Moretti!” Dr. Mercer reported quickly after checking the screen.
“She’s in active labor, complicated by severe physical trauma and shock.”
“We need to transport her to the private surgical suite at St. Jude’s immediately.”
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Vincent looked back at me, kissing my sweat-drenched forehead with absolute tenderness.
“You’re going to be fine, Lena,” Vincent promised. “Your father is in control now.”
