A gunshot rings out in the distance, waking me, and sending my heart into overdrive. I jar the back of my head on the dirty wall from the sudden noise.
My arms reflexively pull on the chains attached to the industrial beams running overhead throughout the building, the cuffs around my wrists digging into my skin.
I’ve been standing here for what seems like days, even though it’s likely been hours. My entire body is sore, and I’ve been forced to pee in the bucket between my legs, my panties and leggings removed from my body by another man the first time I had to go.
They’ve taken turns standing in the room, looking at me, gawking at my nakedness, and making sexual slurs about my body. I feel dirtier than I ever did stripping or with Chuck. I want to go home. I’ve cried until I feel thirsty, and my cheekbone is freshly bruised from the last time I tried to fight against another man’s touch.
Another shot rings out and two men run in the room, followed by the man that took me. “Move her,” he commands, the other two coming toward me. I try hard to kick, but my legs are so heavy they barely leave the floor. “Take her to the car. He’s dumber than I thought. He’ll never get past my army.”
He cuts in front of them until his body is directly in front of me, his hands instantly groping my ass, squeezing and kneading each cheek. I try to kick him in the balls, but he grips my thigh, placing his fingers against my lips. I gather every ounce of moisture left and spit in his face. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
His fist connects with my jaw, blood spewing out of my mouth from the hit. He rubs my spit back on my face with his, his teeth bared outside my ear. “Sounds like I get to have some fun with you after all,” he seethes. “That’s just too bad. I was willing to leave you alone, but I won’t be made a joke. I’m going to fuck that pretty little cunt until you bleed.”
“No. Please,” I beg, trying to push myself against the wall. He grabs my face, swiping his tongue over the place he hit, taunting me.
The fear settles deep within my bones. Emery hasn’t moved in a while, worrying me. I finally started feeling her move recently. They’re subtle, but they’re there. And now I depend on that feeling at least a few times a day. I’m fighting not to think about what that could mean.
“Change of plans,” he says, the other two coming up behind him. “Take her to my office. I want it to be seen when I take her.”
He backs away, leaving me to his little sidekicks. One wraps his hands around mine, attempting to remove the cuffs that are holding me in place. I rock my body with all my might, trying and failing miserably to shove him off.
Glass shatters, and within seconds he falls to the ground in front of me, not moving, blood pooling under his head. The other guy runs toward me, grabbing the key from his still hand, hurriedly replacing him when his eyes stop moving and blood begins running down his nose.
I scream when I realize it’s from a small hole between his eyes, and the screaming continues when I glance down, both of them lying on the floor, lifeless, their eyes void and open. The man responsible for all of this runs out of the room like a coward, leaving me to die with no chance to run.
A full-on panic ensues as I pull on the chains so hard that the metal against my skin is drawing blood, cries hindering my breathing as fear runs rampant through my body.
The room resembles a horror scene. I am trying to pretend I don’t know what the soft matter splattered against the wall beside me is. My entire past life flashes before my eyes. My future—the life I didn’t get to have—follows. Kross. Emery. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to lose her. I’ve felt her. She’s too real.
I close my eyes, screaming through the noises, trying to tune out the gory sounds outside of the room that seem to go on forever. I don’t even want to attempt to match what sound belongs to what act—grunts, slicing, sounds of wetness, thuds and falls. My face is soaked from my tears. The inside of my thighs are wet from the accident I just had.
Everything suddenly goes silent. A deafening sound that means something horrible is about to happen. Footsteps. I hear footsteps. They’re getting closer. I bow my head, pulling into myself when I feel the presence of someone else a few inches away. “Please don’t hurt me.”
A hand touches the outside of my thigh, migrating inward. “No! Please. Don’t do this!”
I try to force my legs together, the bucket stopping me. He doesn’t stop his exploration over my entire body. I cry harder, waiting for the moment I’ve been dreading since I was taken; the moment when my choice is taken from me.
My entire body shakes. I fight to go to my happy place. A place where Kross is holding me and we have Emery.
“Delta.”
“Kross, I’m so sorry. I love you.”
“Delta.”
“Just do it already!” I scream, my voice giving out.
Hands grip my face. “Delta, it’s me. Recognize my touch.”
Sobs rack my body over his voice in my head. It’s a cruel trick for your mind to play on you in a state of distress. “I tried to protect her.”
Lips touch mine. I clench mine together, preventing entry. He continues to kiss me, until finally, I kiss him back, recognizing who is standing in front of me. He pulls away and the sobbing returns. “You came for me.”
“Delta. Open your eyes.”
With a single command they open. I blink, over and over, before the panic starts all over again as I take him in. Blood. Blood is everywhere. It’s covering his clothes. It’s dried on his skin. It’s wet from the fresh. It’s stained on his hands. I don’t know where it’s coming from, or who it belongs to. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where are they all?”
“Hell.”
“What did you do to . . . him?”
“Kept a promise.”
“Where did all that blood come from?”
“You don’t want to know.”
My chest is heaving. I nod toward the two lying in the floor. “And them?”
“Chevy.”
With every breath I relax a little more. “Who else is here?”
“Kaston and Lux.”
My eyes well up all over again. “You came for me.”
He wipes my tears. “You’re my girl. The road to forever may be paved in blood, but I’ll always come for you.”
“I’ve missed you so damn much.” With every swipe of my tears, new ones come.
He kicks the bucket out of the way and kneels in front of me, placing his large hands on my belly. “Delta,” he pauses. “Did they . . .”
“No.” His forehead falls against my belly with the answer. “Kross, she isn’t moving. She hasn’t in a while. What if she . . .”
He grabs the bottom of my tunic, pushing it up my body until my swollen belly is uncovered. My bottom half is bare. I have no idea where they took my leggings and panties. I’ve been cold for so long I can’t even tell anymore. I wish I had my hands. I want to wrap them around his neck so bad.
His lips find their way to my skin, just above my belly button, his hands still pressed against the sides. “Emery,” he says in a voice so deep against me that could alter the universe. “Daddy is here.”
And for the first time in hours, I feel her move. “Thank God,” I cry. Emotions flood my mind. Relief consumes my body. Kaston walks in the room, quickly cutting the chain between the cuffs, before grabbing the two bodies and dragging them from the room, never looking at my half naked body or commenting on Kross still pressed against my stomach.
I wrap my hands around his head despite being freaked out over the blood, and even though I want to cover myself, to go home, to shower off this filth and lay in our bed for days with him, I don’t, because for the first time in this pregnancy Kross is coming to terms with being a father, and that’s worth more than anything else.
