Lila exhales, leaning back. “I can’t believe this,” she whispers, turning toward me. “You’re going to be a mother.”
The word resonates differently now.
Mother.
I let it sink in, my hand drifting to my abdomen again before I think about it. My coat lifts and falls with each breath. Nothing looks different. And yet everything is.
Twenty minutes. That’s all this detour is supposed to be before I go home and stand in front of Kiren and tell him, watching the exact moment his world changes to make room for this.
The city moves past the tinted windows, ordinary and unaware. Two blocks from the hospital, the light ahead turns yellow, washing the intersection in a dull yellow color. Leo slows, the SUV coasting forward like it’s done this a hundred times before.
Then Karp changes. It’s subtle at first. He leans forward a fraction, his attention locking onto something along the cross street.
“Van,” he mutters.
Before Leo can respond, headlights streak across the intersection. A white van surges through the yellow light and cuts sharply in front of us, angling sideways until it blocks the lane entirely.
Leo hits the brakes, and the SUV lurches to a stop.
Karp is already reaching into his jacket as the van's rear doors fly open in perfect unison. Four men step out, spreading with purpose. There’s no shouting, no pause. Just coordinated movement.
“Stay inside,” Leo barks, the calm stripped from his voice.
The first gunshot slams into the windshield before either man fully clears their weapons. The impact detonates through the cabin with a violent crack that rattles my teeth. The glass doesn’t shatter. It fractures outward in a spreading web of white lines, opaque but intact.
Another round hits. Then another.
Lila’s screams, her hand clamping onto my arm.
Leo repositions to back the SUV out, trying to angle us out of the block.
Karp’s door flies open. Cold air rushes in as he steps out in one fluid motion, weapon already raised. He stays tight to the reinforced passenger-side frame, using the engine block and door as cover while firing toward the van. The attackers scatter, dropping behind its open doors.
A shot cracks through the air. The round slices through the open passenger-side doorway before Karp can fully block it.
Leo jerks hard. A sharp breath tears from him as blood spreads across his shoulder. He keeps his hand on the wheel.
Karp pivots instantly, adjusting his stance to seal the opening,firing toward the new muzzle flash while dragging the passenger door wider to shield the cabin.
Another round slams into the spiderwebbed windshield. The glass holds. Boots pound against pavement. Muzzle flashes strobe in the dark.
Inside the SUV, the air fills with the acrid sting of gunfire and ruptured powder. Everything compresses into noise and motion.
Karp pivots again, angling himself to cover Leo while returning fire in controlled bursts. One attacker drops hard behind the van door. But they aren’t retreating. They’re advancing.
A second attacker breaks from cover and sprints low along the SUV's blind side. The rear passenger door on my side is violently yanked open. Hands reach in.
I move on instinct, slamming my elbow toward the nearest throat. My forearm connects solidly. A grunt. A stagger. I surge toward the opening. An arm snakes around my waist from behind and wrenches me backward. My spine slams against the seat.
Lila screams, raw and panicked.
I twist, bracing my heel against the door frame to anchor myself. I throw my head back and feel it connect. A curse explodes against my ear.
Outside, Karp shouts something in Russian and fires again. Another shot answers. He stumbles, just slightly, but stays upright.
Leo, bleeding heavily now, forces himself upright in the driver’s seat and fires one-handed out the driver’s side window toward the van.
A hand clamps around my wrist and twists until pain forces my fingers open. Another arm locks across my chest and hauls upward. My feet leave the floor. I swing at the nearest face, knuckles cracking against bone hard enough to sting. The man barely reacts.
