33. Chapter 33

Jade

After a day of rest, I'm back in my own personal hell. Except this time, I'm coming into my fighting course with a little note of freedom. No more running laps to avoid being hit, and no more sore knuckles from practicing how to hit.

Class is already getting started when I finally find the female instructor. She's the first one who catches my eye, and her co-teacher is already in the ring, so she's going to have to do.

I wait until she's alone to approach her.

"Coach?" I ask, grabbing her attention.

She sighs before she even looks up. "What do you want?"

When her unwelcoming gaze meets my eye, I force a smile.

"I'm supposed to give this to you."

Gingerly I offer her my note from my doctor and begin to worry as she glares at it right away. Taking it more aggressively than necessary, she huffs through her nose before starting to read. My stomach drops when she crumples the paper and stuffs it back into my open hand.

"You don't want to keep it?" I ask, pinching my brows in.

She scoffs at the note and nods to the rest of the class warming up. "Get a move on, Moretti. I don't have time for this shit."

"You read the paper, right?" I ask, still confused. "It says I can't participate in training. They'll be pulling me out of the class?—"

"I read it," she sneers. Her hostility is surprising. She's never been rude before, never been overly kind either, but this venom in her voice is entirely new. "Nice forgery, did you learn that in class? Fall in line, Moretti. Sparring is about to start."

My stomach plummets with nerves. I'm not in a forgery class, and even if I was, who would lie about this? It's so easily fact-checkable, and she won't believe me?

"Forgery? What? I got the note from Dr. Petrov, it's very real. I can't be fighting."

Her eyes roll. "Yes, Dr. Petrov, the Russian physician. Do you think I'm stupid, Moretti? Get in line, you're sparring one of The Thorns today."

I most certainly am not! The day I show up with proof that I'm pregnant and can't be getting into fights, she wants me to spar with boys? Is she nuts!?

"Dr. Petrov says that you can email him with any questions, I will not put myself at risk because you think I'm pulling some kind of trick." Fuck this. "I'm going to find one of my brothers."

"Svenson!" the instructor calls out to one of The Thorns with a growl. "We've got a runner, get her in the circle and get to work."

Hearing her yell, the big blond man huffs, beginning to walk over to us. Without hesitation, I scream at the top of my lungs. The whole class comes to a halt, and I start to run for the stairs, remembering that Ivan should be down at the pool.

"Don't just stand there, get her!"

I'm going to get you!I almost snap, too worried to turn around and scream in her face. I am so sick of power-tripping teachers. Empire needs a whole staff makeover stat!

"Not your fucking dog," Svenson bites out, but I hear him trail me nonetheless.

I run so fast that my legs ache, flying down the stone stairs as unenthused steps follow behind. I throw myself into the pool room, frantically searching for Ivan. I find him in the shallow end, seemingly taking a break with his water bottle in hand.

Without thinking, I scream his name and rush over to him, jumping into the water fully clothed so he can protect me. From the corner of my eye, I see the other Morozov students stand up, preparing for a fight.

"Jade?" He gapes, closing the distance between us quickly. He pulls me into his chest, eyes already starting to scan the room for threats. "Hey, hey, hey," he soothes. "What happened?"

I suck back air, catching my breath. "She didn't believe me! She tried to make me fight and sent some guy to run after me!"

One of his men has Svenson pinned to the wall the second the words leave my lips. He grunts in pain but doesn't fight back. It's not exactly his fault, but I really don't give a shit about him right now.

"What do you mean she didn't believe you?"

"She thinks I forged the note because it's from your doctor," I explain, still breathing hard. "What if I got hit in the stomach?"

"Fucking calm down," Svenson snaps, starting to struggle against the big ass guy who has him against the wall. "I wasn't going to touch her, I don't have a death wish."

"Then why did you follow her?" Ivan demands coldly.

"Would have brought her to Armani," he grunts. "I don't plan to lose my head any time soon. I'm not getting on the Morettis' bad side for a goddamn teacher."

It's easy to believe him when nothing he says sounds like a lie.

"He didn't touch me," I say, lifting my chin at the man in question. He's much less frightening when he has no control over his body. "You can let him go."

The guy with his hands on Svenson looks to Ivan for instruction.

His eyes are dark as he tells me, "He didn't touch you, but he scared you."

"It wasn't his fault," I reason gently. "No one else even saw the note, so he didn"t know, and he followed slowly."

"He can go," Ivan relents but narrows his eyes on the man. "But let everyone in your camp know that no one messes with Jade. She's not just under her family's protection now. Understand?"

"Got it," he gripes, straightening himself out. "Always a fucking pleasure, Morozov."

"Remember that," Ivan bites out in return. Turning to me, he picks me up in his arms and walks me out of the pool. Water rushes off us, heavy bits of it stuck to my clothes, making them cling to me.

"Come on, let me get you warmed up and dried off." Ivan sits down on a wood bench, keeping me in his lap with my legs hanging over his thigh.

Several towels are handed to him at once, and I'm realizing just now how big of a presence the Morozovs have on campus. There have to be ten men in this room practically catering to us. I let Ivan wrap me up, shivering a little bit from the air.

"One of you go get Dmitri. Tell him that Ivan says his Koroleva is fine," Ivan instructs, putting a big emphasis on fine. "But she needs him. Bring him here, we'll wait."

Someone with a similar build as Ivan heads to the door, already making a speedy get-a-way. Man, these guys work fast.

"You alright?" Ivan asks, continuing to try and dry me off as best as he can. With my uniform soaked, I'll only be able to get completely dry when I change. Still, being less drowned by my clothes is helpful.

I cough, clearing the emotion from my throat. "I'm okay."

Ivan tells someone to grab his water bottle, and it's handed over in a second flat. Noticing my hands are shaking, likely from leftover adrenaline, he lifts the open bottle to my lips. Tipping the liquid slowly into my mouth, he watches carefully when I swallow so that he doesn't give me too much.

"Shit," he hisses, holding my thighs tighter to him. I hadn't noticed them beginning to shake. "She's fucking dead."

"I'm f-fine," I whisper, lifting my mouth up for another drink.

"You're not fine, you're in shock," he returns. "We need to get you changed into dry clothes and take you back to the doctor so he can monitor your vitals."

"I'm not in shock," I assure him. I've been in shock before. "It just reminded me."

"Reminded you?" Ivan asks. "Reminded you of what, Jade?"

Our eyes meet, and I lock my hands together, beginning to stroke them with my thumbs. Self-soothing isn't a guarantee for me, it doesn't always help. But knowing I'm surrounded by people who are willing to keep me safe, that's what will help me calm.

"Jade," Ivan repeats, softly touching the back of his hand to my forehead. "What did it remind you of?"

The last time I felt fear like that…

Even though Ivan has heard my story, the people around us haven't. I'm sure that's what he's assuming, that my heightened fear is a product of having to run for my life before, but I'll confirm it for him another time.

I shiver, tucking my head against his chest. "Tell you later," I mumble quietly.

I wish Dmitri were here. He'd probably steal me off of Ivan and hold me even tighter, but it would be okay. The whole world melts away when I'm in his arms, and I really think I want the world to melt right now.

Tempted to fall asleep, my eyes flutter shut, only for Ivan to shake me.

"Do not do that," he warns sharply. "You'll give me a heart attack."

"Ivan," an unfamiliar voice speaks. It's the same guy from before. The one who had Svenson pinned to concrete in two seconds flat. And he's holding a stack of fabric that vaguely resembles a boys uniform.

"Here," he offers, outstretching the bundle of dry clothes.

"My spares," Ivan explains, taking them from him. "Good thinking."

He nods, about to step away or turn around.

"What's your name?" I ask the big guy before he can leave.

His answer is immediate and direct. "Anatoly, Koroleva."

I smile. "What does that mean? Koroleva."

Anatoly hesitates, looking at Ivan.

My boyfriend's brother smirks. "Koroleva is a term for queen. It's what we call the Pakhan's wife."

My heart races, but a question lingers. "But Dmitri isn't Pakhan yet."

"No, but the Pakhan is currently unmarried, and that makes you Koroleva."

I nod in understanding. "Well, thank you, Anatoly. You acted so quickly, and I appreciate it a lot."

"It is my job," he says carefully, but his eyes become soft and gooey. Oh, he's a gentle giant until provoked, I just know it.

"And he'll be rewarded for protecting his Koroleva fiercely."

Ivan carries me into the private locker room, putting me into a changing room and guarding the door while I slip into his clothes. They fit much better than Matteo's do, but they're still a bit large. Nothing I can't wear without them falling off, though.

He lets me walk back into the pool room by myself, but he does pull me back into his lap when we sit down. I can tell that my fierce reaction from being threatened has him concerned. He checks my pulse and the temperature of my forehead several times, watching all of my limbs to make sure they're finished trembling.

When the door bangs open, I don't flinch. I soften and sigh.

My man is here.

"What happened?" Dmitri demands, kneeling in front of us.

His hands immediately surround the side of my head, his lips leaning in to brush over my cheeks. I smile, knowing he isn't just greeting me. He's feeling the temperature in my face while trying to not actively stress me out with his mothering.

"You're okay?" he asks, rubbing my jaw with his thumbs. "Not hurt?"

"I'm okay," I breathe, basking in the comfort he offers.

"The babies?" he checks, eyes darting to my flat stomach.

I nod. "They're okay, too."

Our lips meet in a bruising kiss, washing away the pain of the day.

He releases a heavy breath and turns to his younger brother.

"What happened?"

Ivan meets his brother's eyes, and sinisterly, his lips rise. "There's an instructor we need to teach a lesson."