My gaze dropped slowly to the counter.
To the three plastic sticks lined up in perfect, damning order.
They looked harmless.
Small. Insignificant.
But they might as well have been loaded weapons pointed straight at my chest.
Two pink lines.
On every single one.
Clear. Unmistakable.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in my head, louder with every passing second.
I’m Pregnant.
My stomach dropped violently, a cold, hollow sensation opening up beneath my ribs.
No.
No, no, no—
My fingers tightened against the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white.
My heart began to race.
Fast.
Vincenzo had found me three days ago.
He had come like a storm.
One moment I’d been locked inside that hellhole, bracing myself for whatever came next—and the next, the entire compound had erupted into chaos.
Gunfire. Explosions.
Men shouting in Spanish and Italian.
The sharp, deafening crack of bullets tearing through walls.
And then—him.
Breaking through like something unstoppable.
Like something carved out of violence and fury.
I still remembered the moment he reached me.
The door splintering open. His eyes locking onto mine.
That split second where everything else disappeared.
He hadn’t said my name.
