Page 241 of Filthy Promises

Outside, I hear car doors slamming.

Voices.

Footsteps on the gravel driveway.

“They’re coming,” I whisper. “Natalie, they’re coming inside.”

I’m going to die in this fucking hallway.

Pain tears through me again, this blinding tidal wave that obliterates thought and reason. It’s a contraction so powerfulI swear I can feel my child’s fingers clawing at my cervix, desperate to escape the prison of my womb.

“Rowan? Rowan!” Natalie’s voice sounds tinny and distant through the phone that’s slipping from my sweaty grip.

I can’t answer her. Can’t do anything but slide down the wall until I’m a crumpled heap on the marble floor. The contraction ebbs just enough for me to catch my breath, to remember the panic room is only fifteen feet away. Just around the corner. So close. If I crawl, maybe?—

The front door crashes open downstairs. Heavy footsteps. Male voices barking orders in Russian.

Another contraction builds, a freight train barreling down on me. I bite my lip until I taste copper, swallowing the scream that wants to tear from my throat. If they hear me?—

The panic room door is visible now. Ten feet away. Eight. Six.

My fingers slip on the hardwood as I pull myself forward, belly dragging heavy beneath me.

Five feet.

Four.

The security keypad glows green, waiting for the code.

I reach up, punching in the numbers with shaking fingers.7-2-1?—

The next contraction hits me like a wrecking ball, and my vision whites out. A low animal sound escapes me before I can stop it. My muscles lock, my entire body caught in the vise grip of labor.

I can’t move.

Can’t breathe.

Can barely think through the inferno raging inside me.

When the pain finally releases its claws, I lunge for the keypad again. Just four more numbers?—

Footsteps on the stairs, moving fast.

—three more numbers?—

Voices drawing closer.

—two more?—

The contraction that hits me now is apocalyptic. My spine cracks in two like a glowstick, my head slamming back against the wall. The scream I’ve been desperately holding back erupts, a savage, feral sound that echoes down the hallway.

And in the wake of that scream comes silence. The footsteps have stopped.

Then they start again—faster now, racing toward me.

I drag myself up, fingers fumbling with the keypad. One more number. Just one?—

A shadow falls across me. I look up, heart thundering in my chest, hoping against hope to see Vince’s face, his silver-streaked beard, those fierce blue eyes that have become my whole world.

---