Sophia returned just as the doors to the operating suite opened.
“Councilor Duncan’s surgery was successful,” the white-haired surgeon said, using Nikita’s former title. “She’s currently being moved to a recovery room.”
Sascha’s heart thudded. “I’d like to see her.”
“We have to wait for her to wake. I’ve given her the prearranged psychic command passed on to me by her personal medic.”
“How long will the healing process take?” Sascha knew her mother; Nikita would hate being laid up, though she might not put it in those emotional terms.
“Because of the depth and nature of her injuries, we made the decision not to use fast-healing techniques. It’ll allow for a complete and more stable recovery, but it will take some time.”
Sascha thanked the surgeon for the information, then waited while he went to check on the state of Nikita’s consciousness. It was a half hour later that a nurse came to fetch Sascha. About to enter through the doors to the surgical ward, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at Anthony. I’ll tell her you’re here, she said after a polite telepathic knock. You’ll wait? It seemed important that he do that, that he not leave.
Yes.
Lucas walked into the surgical ward with her, checking Nikita’s room for threats before allowing her to step in. Closing his hand over hers when she would’ve gone in, he tugged her close. “Don’t feel guilty for loving her.” His own love for Sascha pulsed through the mating bond. “At this instant, she’s simply your mother and you’re her cub. That’s a bond that’s difficult to break.”
Turning her head to kiss his palm, Sascha took a deep, shaky breath and walked in.
• • •
GROGGY from the aftereffects of the deep sleep into which she’d put herself during the surgery, the pain from her wounds requiring her conscious attention to manage, it took Nikita’s eyes a full minute to zero in on the woman walking toward her. She didn’t, however, need the visual cue. She’d known who was at the door the instant it opened.
Sascha. The only child she had ever borne. The cardinal who everyone had told Nikita was flawed, but who she’d known was a power who could not be allowed to come into her own. To do so would equal her death. So she’d crushed her child, and in so doing, saved her life and forever lost her.
“Mother.” Sascha closed her hand over Nikita’s, her fingers warm.
The contact was jolting. Nikita rarely touched anyone, and she hadn’t touched Sascha in years. It was the way she’d been brought up to be, until nothing could alter the foundation of her nature. “Why are you here?” The words came out a croak.
Sascha didn’t let go, didn’t step back. “I wanted to see that you were all right.”
“Not safe.” Nikita had done everything in her power to disassociate herself from Sascha, to convince the world her child meant nothing to her, but Sascha’s presence here could negate all her careful groundwork. “Find you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d betrayed too much, her brain yet sluggish.
Sascha’s hand tightened on hers. “I’m an empath, Mother,” she said softly. “I understand.”
Nikita met the white stars on black that was Sascha’s cardinal gaze and allowed herself to live fully in this moment when her daughter was with her and Nikita didn’t have to pretend she didn’t matter. “You are well?”
“Yes.” Sascha’s lips curved shakily. “The baby’s in good health, too—getting bigger every day. More mischievous, too. Yesterday, she smooshed her hand right into a chocolate mud cake after I turned my back for a minute. Had chocolate frosting all over her face.” A laugh that made her eyes fill with sparks of color. “Her mother’s daughter.”
No one could say that about Sascha. Where Nikita was hard, Sascha was gentle. Where Nikita’s conscience was a fluid thing that had led her to make decisions that ended lives and destroyed careers, Sascha would sacrifice her own life before harming another being. And where Nikita had shoved her child out into the darkness, Sascha would hold on tight to hers no matter what.
“Does your child look like a Duncan?” Nikita had seen visuals captured by photographers she’d contracted, but they were all from a distance.
Sascha nodded. “And a Hunter. She’s the best of both me and my mate.” A pause. “Would you like to meet her? I can bring her.”
“No. Not safe.” Nikita drew her hand away. “Go.”
Instead, Sascha touched her hand to her hair. “I’m glad you’re okay, Mother.” Leaving when Nikita said nothing, she closed the door behind her.
Expecting it to stay that way for a considerable period, she found it opening again within the span of two minutes, the man who entered familiar. Nikita felt her body stiffen. She was used to speaking to Anthony as an equal. Right now, she was vulnerable, weak. “Is there a problem the Coalition needs to handle?” she asked in an effort to gain the upper hand.
Anthony halted beside the bed. “No.” He scanned her with cool brown eyes that had always seemed to see right through her. “You’re in significant pain. Why are you conscious?”
“Do you really expect me to allow myself to be unconscious in an unfamiliar environment?” The only reason she’d put herself under during the surgery was that she knew Sophia and Max would make certain she had guards throughout. Those two might argue with her more often than they agreed, but they would also never stab her in the back.