MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat - Chapter 562

Chapter 562: Chapter 562: Nice Words
Damon was in the kitchen, towel slung over his shoulder, wiping down the counter after putting away the last clean dish.

The scent of something home-cooked still lingered in the air, he’d made sure everything was set, meals ready, floor clean, living room neat.

It had become a habit, keeping the place tidy while Svetlana rested more.

He heard her voice from down the hall.

“Damon!” Her tone was sharp, panicked. “Damon—!”

The urgency punched him in the chest.

He dropped the towel instantly.

His socks slipped on the hardwood as he turned the corner too fast, catching himself with one hand against the wall.

“Svetlana?!” he yelled, bolting toward their bedroom.

She was half-sitting, half-leaning against the bed frame, hands gripping the blanket, her face tense.

“I think—my water just broke!”

Damon froze for a split second as the words hit. Then he nodded, moving fast. Not panicking, but barely keeping it together.

“Okay. Okay. Shit. Okay, I got you.”

He nearly tripped trying to yank open the closet door for her hospital bag, talking the whole time more to himself than her.

“It’s time. It’s really time.”

She winced through a cramp, trying to breathe steady as he helped her sit up more. Her legs were shaky. Her breathing was short.

Damon got down low, one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. “I got you, I got you.”

He moved like she was made of glass and fire at the same time.

Svetlana gritted her teeth as Damon helped her through the doorway, her hand crushing his arm. Another contraction hit hard and fast.

“Blyat… this is really happening,” she muttered, half laughing, half on the verge of tears. “Fuck. Fuck. This hurts like hell.”

“You’re okay, I got you,” Damon said, voice calm but tight.

“No you don’t, you liar—agh!” She clutched her belly and cursed in Russian again, her breathing jagged.

Damon was already moving fast, one arm still behind her back, the other gripping the handle of the stair rail as they moved into the hallway. She tried walking, but after three steps she leaned into him harder.

“Why the fuck does everything feel like it’s on fire?!”

“Almost there, baby. Just hold on.”

They made it to the elevator. Damon pressed the button twice out of instinct, like mashing it would make it come faster.

Svetlana leaned into his chest, still muttering in Russian between every breath.

As soon as the doors opened, Damon helped her in, keeping her upright, arms secure.

By the time they reached the ground floor, another wave of pain rolled through her.

“Damon—agh—if you ever—ever—want more kids after this, I swear to God—”

He held back a nervous laugh. “We’ll talk about that later.”

The elevator dinged.

The doors opened to the lobby.

A few staff at the front desk immediately jumped up, startled by the tension on Damon’s face and the way Svetlana was gripping her stomach and half-bent over.

One tried to approach. “Do you need us to—”

“No, just clear the space,” Damon snapped, already shifting his stance to support her better. “Open the door, clear the way, get the lot cameras if you have to—but move.”

They scrambled to comply. One staff member rushed to unlock the main doors, another cleared a couple that had just walked in.

Damon kept moving, one foot after the other, eyes sharp.

Svetlana groaned as another contraction seized her and clutched the front of his shirt.

He didn’t flinch, just shifted his grip and muttered quietly, “You’re doing great. Almost there. I promise.”

She groaned again, this time breathing harder. “If I give birth in this damn lobby, you’re gonna name the baby after me twice.”

He didn’t argue.

He got her outside, toward the car.

Damon slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and turned the engine on with shaky hands. He glanced back to check Svetlana—she was breathing hard, leaned against the seat, one hand on her belly, the other gripping the door handle like it was a lifeline.

He put the phone on speaker and called Aoife first.

The call connected almost instantly.

“Damon? What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“She’s in labor. Her water broke—”

From the backseat, Svetlana’s voice cracked through, sharp and angry.

“You said we had time! You said it was just a cramp earlier! I should have trusted my mother!”

Aoife paused. “Is she—was that Svetlana?”

“Y-yeah. She’s—uh—processing.”

“PROCESSING?! I’M ABOUT TO PUSH OUT A WHOLE HUMAN!”

Aoife tried not to laugh, her voice calm despite the situation. “Alright, alright. Are you heading to the hospital? Which one?”

“Yeah, yeah, Saint Mercy. I’m on the way right now.”

Svetlana let out another groan, followed by a Russian curse Damon didn’t fully catch.

“Breathe, honey,” Aoife said, trying to help through the line.

“Don’t tell me to breathe, tell him to drive faster!”

Damon was already speeding through a light.

“She’s—she’s doing great,” he muttered, barely convincing himself.

“You better not slow down! If I give birth in this goddamn car, you’re driving it straight into a wall after!”

Aoife sighed gently. “We’ll meet you there. Just keep her calm.”

“I AM CALM!” Svetlana snapped.

Damon ended the call quickly and switched over to the group chat with their friends, typing in all caps with one hand on the wheel:

“SHE’S IN LABOR. HEADING TO SAINT MERCY. DON’T CALL. JUST MEET US THERE.”

Then he dropped the phone onto the seat beside him and focused on the road.

Svetlana let out a deep, ragged breath behind him.

“I swear to God if you stop for a red light I will jump out and drive myself.”

Damon didn’t even blink. He just hit the gas harder.

As he sped through another yellow light, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping the phone, Svetlana groaned from the back seat. Her breathing was uneven, sharp exhales cutting through the car’s tension.

“Damon… ugh… you remember when we met?” she said suddenly, voice tight from pain.

Damon blinked, glanced at the mirror. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do—are you okay?”

“No,” she snapped, then laughed, a dry, breathless laugh laced with strain. “I’m in fucking labor, of course I’m not okay! Ty durak! But… I remember you. You were such an idiot.”

Damon opened his mouth but didn’t respond. He knew this wasn’t the time to argue.

“You walked into that gym like a scrawny… very handsome guy. You didn’t even know how to wrap your own hands,” she hissed, shifting uncomfortably. “I remember thinking… this guy? Seriously?”

He allowed himself a small, tense smile. “Yeah, well. Look where we ended up.”

“No, listen—ahhh—listen to me.” She gritted her teeth, then exhaled hard. “You grew up into a man. I watched it. I watched you fight through everything. You earned this—we earned this.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, gripping the wheel tighter. “We’re almost there.”

“You better not faint when the baby comes,” she growled.

“Me? You’re the one threatening to kill me every five minutes!”

She muttered something in Russian he didn’t catch, then groaned again, pain rippling through her spine.

“I love you, you stubborn bastard,” she said, voice cracked but sincere. “Even when you drive like this.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Then he nodded to himself, gaze sharp on the road. “I love you too, baby. Just hang on. We’re almost there.”