Anxiety is a symptom of pregnancy, isn’t it?
I really need to relax.
I shake out my shoulders and bask in the sunlight for a moment, forcing my nerves to settle into a more relaxed state. It doesn’t work.
“Jesus, Lau,” I mutter, untying my jacket from around my shoulders to throw it back on.
I can’t.
Something is tugging it. Maybe it got caught on a splinter sticking out from the bench. I pull at the jacket, but the tug hardens.
In a moment, everything changes.
I don’t see the face of the figure emerging from behind me, but I can tell it’s not Nikolai. I open my mouth to scream for help, but a pair of leather-gloved hands clamp over my mouth before I can even catch my breath. My scream comes out muffled, vibrations from my failed effort buzzing against my lips.
It all happens in less than a second.
My feet leave the ground, swinging in the air as I'm tugged backward into the person's grasp. Panic floods my system as I kick wildly, my ballet flats useless against my attacker’s solid frame. The world tilts dangerously as I’m dragged away from the safety of the busy street, away from witnesses, away from help. My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my throat, and all I can think about is my baby—our baby—and how I might never get to hold her.
My jacket hits the ground, the lapels blowing in the passing wind like a final goodbye.
I’m about to try another scream.
That’s when the darkness consumes me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nikolai
I’m breaking the speed limit, my foot pressed to the floor.
I maneuver through standstill traffic, horns blaring, but I’m gone, running the red light before anyone can stick their middle finger up at me.
This next stretch of road is only two lanes wide.
Blyad!
Cars roll, too many of them on the road for me to avoid a collision. But when it comes to Lauren and my daughter, there are simply no consequences big enough. None that outweigh the action of saving their lives.
I glimpse over my shoulder. There’s a vehicle in my blind spot in the overtaking lane, but I swerve into their piece of road anyway, earning myself a nasty beep. Brakes screech. I see a middle finger shooting up in the rearview mirror.
I swerve, going over the middle of the two lanes to avoid a collision serious enough for me to be stopped by the cops. The car in the left lane suffers a minor casualty—its side-view mirror coming away from the body thanks to me accidentally clipping it.
An angry man sticks his head out of the window but I couldn’t care less. My fucking heart feels like it’s going faster than the speed of this car, but none of it has anything to do with my unsafe driving.
That’s when I hear sirens.
Yobany Urod!
I grit my teeth, running a light just as it turns red, hoping to create some distance between myself and the cops chasing me.
I search up ahead for directions at the nearest intersection—to see if my escape plan from the cops will correlate with where Lauren’s live location is. I consult my hands-free screen. It says she’s on Baker Street.
I look again.
Last update: Five minutes ago.
I can practically feel the color fade from my face.
