His hand is still on my throat, his other hand still violating me, and all I can think about is the baby.
My baby. Our baby.
"Please," I whisper when he moves his hand from my mouth. "Please, I'm pregnant. Just let me go. I'll get you the money, I'll do whatever you want, just please don't hurt the baby."
"Pregnant." He laughs—a cold, ugly sound that echoes off the alley walls. "That just makes you more valuable. Some men like that, you know. Like the idea of fucking a woman who's already been knocked up by someone else. They pay extra for pregnant girls. Something about the taboo of it."
My stomach heaves.
I think I'm going to be sick.
He pulls back his hand and slaps me again, harder this time.
I crumple against the wall, barely staying upright.
"Consider this a reminder," he says, his voice dropping to something low and lethal. "You belong to me, Vanna. You always have. From the first time you stuck a needle in your arm, you weremine.And when I come to collect—and I will come to collect—you're going to do exactly what I say. You're going to spread your legs for whoever I tell you to. You're going to make me back every dollar you owe, plus interest."
"And if I don't?" The words come out broken, barely audible.
He smiles, and it's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen.
"Then I'll cut that baby out of you myself. And I'll make your husband watch."
He releases me, and I crumple to the ground, gasping for air.
My throat burns. My face throbs.
Between my legs, I can still feel the ghost of his hand, the violation of his touch.
"See you soon, sweetheart."
And then he's gone, disappearing around the corner like he was never there.
I don't know how long I sit there, shaking and crying, my hand pressed protectively over my stomach.
Long enough for the cold to seep through my clothes.
Long enough for the reality of what just happened to sink in.
Then I pull out my phone and dial Garrett's number with trembling fingers.
He answers on the first ring. "Van? Where are you? I came out and the truck was?—"
"Alley," I manage. "Side of the building. Please.Pleasecome."
I hear him running.
Hear his boots pounding on the pavement.
And then he's there, skidding around the corner, his face white with fear.
"Van. Jesus Christ." He drops to his knees beside me, his hands hovering like he's afraid to touch me. "What happened? Who did this?"
"Virgil." The name comes out broken. "My old dealer. He found me."
Garrett's expression goes cold.
Deadly. I've seen that look before—the look of a man about to destroy someone.
