What if he doesn’t come back? What if Luka leaves me here to rot in this cell?
I scream, not from the horror of the situation but from a contraction that rips through my body, bringing pain to the surface. “Not now,” I scold my unborn child, crying out in agony.
She can’t come right now.
As if I have a say in the matter.
Luka turns around, sensing my discomfort as I have one hand latched onto the metal bars and the other on my abdomen. I’m hunched forward, wincing from the onset of contractions.
They’re intense. Not the least bit gentle or far apart.
What the hell is happening?
“You better not be faking,” Luka says as he heads back toward the prison cell.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. “Does it look like I’m faking?” I snap. Anger resonates within me. This ishisfault, bringing me here against my will. “If anything happens to the baby that I’m carrying, I’ll kill you.”
Luka’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “Do you think I’m here to hurt you or your child? You’re mistaken. We’re here to save you.”
I don’t believe him. He has me locked in a prison cell.
He’s unlocking the door, shouting to his men to come down at once in haste.
Feet pound against the cement, and my eyes are slammed shut, gripping the metal cage bars as another contraction rips right through me.
It feels like hell.
My water breaks.
Just in case I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that I was in labor, it’s obvious the baby is coming, whether I want her to or not.
“Call Doctor Morgan,” Luka shouts at one of his men.
How does he know my physician? Does she work for the Caruso family too? Is she part of the mafia?
“I’ll be quick,” Luka says, hovering by me as he unlocks the prison cell.
I want to fight him, run, and escape, but the baby is coming. What I want doesn’t matter.
“As I said, we’re here to help you. Albeit not an unselfish decision, but you should know the truth. Hear it from me,” he smiles, and all I want to do is wipe that smug grin from his face.
“Hear what?” I shout.
The pain comes and goes in short bursts, waves like the ocean crashing down on the shoreline, one right after another.
“Your boyfriend, the father of your child, Jace, he’s a murderer. He murdered my father, and he’s responsible for the fire that stole your son and husband.”
Lies.
It can’t be true. “How?” It’s the only word I can groan between contractions. I don’t want to believe him because if it’s true, then everything I’ve been doing has been for the wrong reasons.
“He had bad information,” Luka says. His eyes bore into mine. “He killed my father the same night your family died. In a fire. It turns out our addresses are reversed.”
“No.” I don’t want to believe him.
He recants the address, and I gasp, falling forward, the pain ripping through me, searing and hot.
It doesn’t matter that I’m not ready, that Jace is on another continent, and I’m six weeks early.
The baby is coming.